Kiss the Bride (60 page)

“I didn’t get my growth spurt until my senior year. Before that I was president of the geek squad.”

“Charming story, I’m sure.” She dumped the coins into the black leather bag she’d brought with her.

“Whoa,” Ackerman said. “You’re not just going to waltz out of here with over a hundred grand worth of change in your carryall.”

“Why not? I’ve got a badass Secret Service agent as a bodyguard. Who’d be dumb enough to try to snatch it?”

He looked pleased that she’d called him a badass. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

She shot him a look. “Where would you guess?”

“Coin dealer?”

“Bravo. He’s got an I.Q. Who knew?”

“And who knew you had such a smart mouth?”

I don’t,
Elysee thought.
Not normally.
But this swaggering tough guy set her teeth on edge. She was definitely going to have to talk to her father about having him reassigned.

Elysee stood up with the carryall. It was so heavy she couldn’t hold her shoulder straight.

“Here.” Ackerman reached for the bag. “Give it to me.”

“I can carry it,” she protested.

“Not without signaling to everyone who sees you walking out of the bank toting a black bag you can barely carry that you’re a target.”

“Please, I spend my life as a target.” She reached for the bag.

He held it over his head where she couldn’t get to it. The thing had to weigh at least thirty pounds and he was holding it like it was a bag of popcorn.

“Give it up,” he said and pushed the buzzer for the bank officer to let them out of the vault.

Elysee seethed at his high-handedness. “You’re a very infuriating man, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“And arrogant.”

“Been told that, too. If you’re planning on insulting me you’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Ass.”

“Princess.”

“Jerk.”

“Sweetheart.”

“If I wasn’t a lady…” She broke off her threat.

“Ah, but you are.” He winked, took her elbow, and escorted her out of the vault.

T
he engagement party held at the Ritz-Carlton was unlike anything Tish had ever attended. Lavish far beyond normal standards. Elaborate ice sculptures. Exotic flowers in leaded crystal vases on every table. Extraordinary cakes constructed by world-renowned bakers. The opulence stole Tish’s breath away. She felt as if she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

If this was just the engagement party, what in the world would the wedding be like? The notion spun her head.

Elysee’s secretary, Lola, escorted Tish into the room just ahead of the guests so she could find a prime spot for filming. No other video cameras were allowed in. After the party, Nathan Benedict planned to hold a press conference, officially announcing his daughter’s engagement to the world.

Tish had an exclusive.

You got the exclusive only because you used to be married to the groom.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. However she got the gig, she had it and her career was going to be made because of it. She owed Elysee a debt of gratitude.

I’m living my dream.

This was more than she could ever hope for. Yet, in spite of her excitement, an exquisite sadness seeped into her limbs, weighing her down, making the camera feel impossibly heavy. Yes, she was on top of the world careerwise. It didn’t get any higher than this. After the wedding was over she would be one of the most renowned wedding videographers in the world.

Why, then, did she feel so blue?

A string quartet played chamber music as the guests filtered in. She thought of her mother and wished Dixie Ann was here to see this. After settling her camera on its tripod, she dug out her cell phone, found an unobtrusive spot in the corner, and placed a call.

“Dixie Ann,” she whispered as soon as her mother answered the phone. Her mother didn’t like to be called Mom. She always said it made her feel old. “You’ll never guess where I’m calling you from.”

“Tish, honey, is that you? I can hardly hear. What’s that noise?”

“I’m at Elysee Benedict’s engagement party.”

“Elysee who?”

“Elysee Benedict. You know, the daughter of the President of the United States.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“You’re pulling my leg. Stop teasing me right now, Patricia Rhianne Gallagher.”

“Swear to God, I’m not.”

“How?”

“Elysee hired me to videotape both her engagement party and the wedding.”

Dixie Ann squealed. “I’m so proud of you! That’s wonderful. You deserve something good in your life.”

“Thanks, Dixie Ann.”

“Have you seen the President? He’s nice-looking for an older man. And he’s single. You’re a pretty girl, Tish. You’ve got just as good a chance to hook him as the next gal. Are you wearing something nice? ’Cause you know nothing attracts—”

“Affluence like affluence, yes,” Tish interrupted. “I know. You’ve told me over and over.”

Dixie Ann said longingly, “Oh, I wish I could be there with you.”

“I know. That’s why I called.”

“So who’s there? What are they wearing? What food’s being served? What’s the music? Are any movie stars there?”

“Oops, sorry, Dixie Ann, I’ve gotta go. Shane just came in. I’ll fill you in on all the details later.”

“Shane? He’s there?” The excitement in her mother’s voice hit top pitch.

“He’s here.” Tish looked across the room at him and her heart was in her throat. He wore a black tuxedo, and when he entered the room, he took stock of his surroundings, surveying the entrances and exits, eyeing the crowd. Secret Service to the bone. Even with his damaged right hand tucked in his pocket, he looked imposing and dangerous. James Bond had nothing on him.

Seriously, you gotta stop drooling over your ex.

“Tish, this is wonderful, wonderful news. You’re videotaping Elysee Benedict’s engagement party and you and Shane are getting back together and—” Her mother’s excited voice jerked her back to the cell phone conversation.

“No, Dixie Ann, you’ve got it all wrong. Shane and I are not getting back together.”

“Oh.” The sound of Dixie Ann’s disappointment grabbed hold of Tish’s gut and twisted. “Then what’s he doing there?”

“He’s getting engaged to Elysee Benedict.”

A long silence ensued. Tish could hear the sound of her own heart beating in her ears.

“What did you say? There must be something wrong with your cell phone reception because I thought you said your Shane was marrying the President’s daughter.”

“I did. He is.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. We’ve been divorced for two years.”

“But the President’s daughter? How did that happen?”

“Long story. I gotta let you go. I have to catch all this on camera.”

“Call me back later. I want to hear everything.”

Tish hung up, pocketed her cell phone, and then picked up her camera from the tripod and started moving around the room, filming as she went.

Shane sauntered across the ballroom to where Elysee stood chatting with the Prime Minister of Israel. The human sea of tuxedos, designer labels, and expensive haircuts parted before him.

Tish raised the camera and zoomed in on his face. Something deep inside the most feminine part of her tightened.

Lust.

Pure and raw and wild.

And from the looks in the eyes of half the women in the room as they tracked Shane’s journey toward Elysee, Tish wasn’t the only one having lusty thoughts.

They all wanted him.

This man who had once belonged to her.

Misery winnowed inside her. Her feelings jerked her in two directions at once. Ecstatic one minute, despair the next. She shuttled back and forth so quickly she feared emotional whiplash.

Just do your job. Focus on your work. It’s the only thing that will save you.

She knew the truth of it. Tish took a deep breath, calmed her mind, and became one with the camera.

Elysee smiled at Shane. He took her hand.

Tish moved in closer.

By the time the President entered the room a few minutes later she was nothing more than a camera lens. Seeing without feeling, capturing what was before her. A fly-on-the-wall view. Detached and professional. Using her camera to tell the story, her aim to bewitch the viewers. But she would not fall under the spell. She’d learned the hard way you couldn’t trust happily ever after.

Elysee’s hair was piled atop her head in an elegant, old-fashioned style and she wore a floor-length dress of lemon chiffon. The color made her appear prettier than usual, less washed out. She was a plain girl but a sweet one, and Tish did the best she could to capture Elysee’s better features—her smile, her graceful walk, her straight white teeth.

She changed lenses, looking for the best filter, the right focus for the President’s daughter. How ironic was this, presenting the competition in her best light?

But there was no competition.

Elysee, with her chaste innocence, had won. She’d known how to play a man like Shane. A valiant knight. A staunch defender who proved his worth by slaying the mightiest of all dragons—his independence, sexual hunger, and pride.

Tish had lost because she’d held nothing in reserve. She
loved too messily, gave too much of herself too soon only to have it all end wrongly. Her stomach took a nosedive.

Back behind the camera. Close off your mind. Just capture the moment. Don’t think.

She recorded everything—waiters moving through the crowd with champagne on silver serving trays. The press secretary calling for everyone’s attention. Then Shane presenting Elysee with a beautiful marquis-cut three-carat diamond engagement ring.

The camera couldn’t blunt Tish’s jealousy, but she swallowed it back and kept filming.

She captured the President making the announcement to the room of friends and supporters. His beautiful daughter was marrying her stalwart bodyguard. Nathan Benedict welcomed Shane into the family with a warm embrace and a hearty pat on the back.

Everything was committed to the camera.

The crowd lifted their glasses in unison and toasted the happy couple. Everyone loved a good fairytale romance.

Shane and Elysee kissed. Sweetly, romantically. The crowd applauded politely. So civilized.

“When’s the wedding?” someone asked.

“Christmas Eve,” Elysee sang out.

“Who’s designing your gown?” asked someone else.

“Top secret.” Elysee blushed prettily.

“How did you two hook up?”

Elysee slipped her arm around Shane’s waist and gazed up at him. “He was my bodyguard.”

“Shane, is your family here tonight?”

From across the room, his gaze met Tish’s. His dark, familiar eyes were all she could focus on. “Unfortunately my parents couldn’t be here. They’re on a worldwide cruise for their fortieth anniversary.”

That answer drew a collective “ah” from the crowd.

“Where will you honeymoon?”

“Fiji.” Elysee beamed.

Tish filmed without evaluating, without filtering content.
Get everything on camera. You can worry about the effects when you edit.

She circled the couple. Shane watched her from his peripheral vision. She was glad her eye was pressed to the lens of the camera. She preferred that view to looking at the monitor. With the monitor, you couldn’t hide behind the equipment. The last thing she wanted was for Shane to catch a glimpse of her eyes and read something in her face that she couldn’t disguise.

Tish filmed him watching her. Zeroing in on his inscrutable brown eyes, his expression revealed nothing.

When he saw what she was doing, he winked boldly for the camera. She recalled that when they were married, she had loved to take his picture, how he would protest and then just finally give in because she wouldn’t stop pestering him until he did.

He was even more attractive now than he’d been when she’d met him three years ago. And he’d been pretty darned cute then. But now, he was heartbreakingly, impossibly handsome as the corner of his lips tipped up in his lopsided smile.

Something low and hot fluttered inside her. Something dangerous and subversive. It felt as if she were climbing a rickety ladder in a hurricane, destined for a fall. Enough pictures of the happy couple for now, she decided. It was time to scope out the crowd for interesting reactions to the engagement announcement.

Tish honed in on the dignitaries. Capturing VIPs from various countries all over the world—fraternizing
together at the bar. Whispering gossip in corners. Kowtowing to the President with compliments and flattery. It was the photo-op of a lifetime.