Mr. Unforgettable by Karina Bliss

one expected her to be intelligent, impartial and sensible. Liz pulled at her French twist and her fine hair fell around her shoulders.
    Sun protection, she told herself, trying to remember when she’d last worn her hair down. Years. Long before she’d met Harry.
    Her sense of well-being was headier than the champagne bubbles, more piquant than the surrounding flowers.
    Luke glanced over to make sure she was okay. Fluttering her fingers, she blew him a kiss and his eyes blazed a lazy warning.
    Maybe she had a tiger by the tail, but Liz was having too much fun as Fred to let go. Since finding out about her past, Luke had stopped flirting with her, and behind her relief was a woman’s pique that he could switch off his attraction so easily.
    â€œHe still hasn’t forgiven you for that crack about how lousy he is in bed,” noted Bernice May. “You’re in for it, later.”
    â€œI’m driving myself home tonight, so I’m safe.” Liz put the slight pang in her stomach down to hunger. It was now two o’clock and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “Which also means no more champagne.” The old lady was still carting around her bottle like a geriatric genie.
    â€œYou won’t be driving for hours yet.” Bernice May removed Liz’s hand from the top of her glass and refilled it.
    Politely sipping her champagne, Liz glanced back to the bridal party. “Wow,” she said softly.
    The photographer had positioned the three men for a buddy shot. The breeze ruffled Luke’s dark hair and molded Jordan’s thin silk shirt against his impressive frame. He’d already dispensed with the waistcoat and jacket. And no dress could detract from Christian’s charismatic masculinity.
    They all smiled for the camera, the shot was taken and the group broke up. Jordan rejoined his bride and sisters; Christian wandered over to Kezia and took their small daughter from her arms. Luke sought the shade of a magnolia and stood alone, his expression shuttered, his arms folded.
    Instinctively, Liz stood. But Jordan’s sister, Megan, peeled off from the others and approached him with two glasses of champagne. Feeling silly, Liz sat down again. Of course he wasn’t lonely.
    Bernice May waved to Jordan’s mother, a tiny woman to have produced so many tall children. “Lemme go find out when the food’s being served. We want pole position at the buffet.”
    Aware of being slightly tipsy, Liz put down her champagne glass. Was this her third? It was hard to tell when Bernice May kept it filled. As she tried to count back, a rodent was thrust under her nose. Seeing white rats was not a good sign.
    â€œWanna pat it?” asked a gleeful voice.
    Turning around, Liz saw the six-year-old lamb-catcher she’d met earlier. A lick of light brown hair fell across his forehead and he looked a lot dirtier now. She adopted a stern expression. “You were hoping I’d scream, weren’t you?”
    â€œIt works sometimes,” he admitted cheerfully.
    Behind him the older boy shuffled his feet. “I told him not to do it.” Skinny, small-boned with expressive brown eyes and wearing clothes that looked too big for him, he was obviously feeling the moral weight of being the oldest.
    â€œI bet it’s funny when you do get screams though,” Liz said, and the boys cracked grins. “I’m trying to remember your names.
    â€œI’m Dillon,” said the bigger boy, “and this is John Jason.”
    Liz scratched the rat behind the ears. “I always wanted a pet when I was a kid but I couldn’t have one.”
    John Jason looked interested. “Have you got one now you’re old?”
    She blinked, then laughed. “No, my hus…the person I lived with was allergic. I’ve been thinking about getting one lately.” Except the thought of being solely reliant on an animal for companionship depressed her.