The Last Groom on Earth by Kristin James Page B

on his head. He held a long, very thin cigar in one hand.
    “You look like you just stepped off a riverboat!” Angela exclaimed. “Or maybe out of Gone With the Wind.”
    Bryce smiled. “That was the idea. Dorothy told me it was the perfect costume for me.”
    “Dorothy? Our receptionist?”
    “Yes. I figured if she had made your costume, she must know something about them. So I asked herwhere to get one and what I should get. She thought a riverboat gambler would probably make me feel the least foolish. I guess she’s right. I feel enough of an idiot like this—I hate to think what I’d feel like dressed up like a knight.”
    Angela smiled. She suspected that she was glowing. Bryce was going to Tim’s party, and he was obviously here to take her to it.
    Angela stepped back, and Bryce followed her into the condominium. His eyes ran down her figure appreciatively. “You’ve changed costume.”
    “Yeah. I decided that sexy Maladora stuff just wasn’t me.” Angela spread out her arms and turned around to show off the dress. “How do you like it?”
    “You’re—it’s lovely.” He looked a little stunned. His eyes dropped involuntarily to the tops of her creamy breasts, which looked in danger of popping out at any moment.
    Angela smiled, pleased that she had made an impression. “Thank you.”
    He seemed unable to pull his eyes away from the white expanse of her chest revealed by the low, square-cut neckline. “Are you supposed to be Elizabeth I?”
    Angela shrugged. “No, not especially. Just a generic Elizabethan lady.”
    “You don’t look very generic. I’d say you look quite unique.”
    She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Is that a euphemism for ‘strange’?”
    A smile cracked his usually reserved face. “No. Not at all. A synonym for ‘beautiful,’ perhaps.”
    “Oh, my,” Angela teased, “you’re going to ruin your reputation as a dull C.P.A. if you keep making remarks like that.” She paused for a moment, thenwent on, “What made you change your mind—about the party, I mean?”
    “I’m not sure.” His brows knit in a frown. “I think, maybe, I got tired of being me.”
    Angela’s eyebrows went up. “What does that mean?”
    “Sometimes it gets awfully dull being a stick-in-the-mud.”
    Angela turned the full wattage of her smile on him. “Well, I’m glad you decided to get out of the mud tonight.”
    Bryce hardly looked like anything dull tonight. He looked hard, perhaps, maybe even a little dangerous, but also dashing and handsome. And he was looking at her in a way that made her feel warm and tingly all over.
    “You ready to go?” he asked.
    “Yes. And you are definitely driving. I doubt very seriously that this dress would fit behind a steering wheel.”
    A faint smile warmed Bryce’s lips as he stood aside for her to pass in front of him. “I’d say only a carriage would do for that dress. Or perhaps a sedan chair.”
    They stepped out the front door, and Angela locked it behind them. “Oh,” she said, glancing over at the door next to her. “I forgot. I promised Jim I’d show him my costume.”
    “Who?”
    “My next-door neighbor. He loves stuff like this.” Angela turned, almost knocking a plant off its stand, and went to the next door to knock.
    Jim opened the door a moment later. “Oh, my,” he said, his eyes widening. “Queen Elizabeth the First, as I live and breathe. Harbaugh, come look at our girl.”
    Harbaugh, taller and younger than Jim, with a muscular build and a serious face, appeared behind Jim in the doorway. He smiled. “You look like you stepped out of a history book.”
    “Thank you.” Angela dipped them a little curtsey, then turned toward Bryce. “Jim, Harbaugh, I’d like for you to meet Bryce Richards.”
    Bryce came forward to shake hands. Jim’s brows went up and he shot a knowing look toward Angela. Only two days ago Angela had been sitting glumly on his couch and telling him all about her and Bryce’s abortive