Kiss the Bride (61 page)

The string quartet was playing a waltz and people started dancing. The French Ambassador spun the Vice President’s wife across the ballroom. A Democratic senator from California cozied up with an NRA gun lobbyist. The prince of a small European country dazzled an up-and-coming starlet. Tish wasn’t very political herself, but she knew good content when she saw it.

Elysee danced with Shane. His arm was around her waist. Tish thought of the dance they’d shared at Louie’s and her throat went dry.

Halfway through the waltz, Elysee saw Rana Singh walk into the ballroom, an anxious frown furrowing her brow. She was dressed in an exquisite ruby red sari, but she looked decidedly out of place and uncomfortable with her surroundings. Elysee’s former nanny kept casting nervous glances over her shoulder at the male foreign dignitaries in the room.

Elysee’s pulse skipped. Could one of these men be responsible for putting the price on Rana’s head? She stopped dancing.

“Is something wrong?” Shane asked.

She looked up at her husband-to-be and briefly thought about telling him what was going on. But Rana had sworn her to secrecy and she wasn’t about to do anything that could jeopardize Alma Reddy’s life.

“These shoes are killing my feet,” she said. That wasn’t a lie. Her feet did hurt. “Do you mind if we sit this one out?”

“Not at all. Where would you like to sit?”

Elysee peeked around his elbow to see Rana edging toward the back corner of the room. Their gazes met. The expression in Rana’s eyes was urgent.

Hurry.

“Um, I’ll find a spot.” She smiled at him. “Could you get me some water?”

“Certainly.”

The second Shane turned away, Elysee hurried over to Rana. “This way.”

She led Rana to a shadowy corner of the outside patio where earlier, she’d stashed the cash she’d gotten from liquidating her grandmother’s antique coin collection inside a safe made to look like a rock. After lifting the safe from a flowerbed filled with chrysanthemums, she spun the tumblers on the combination.

Rana kept glancing over her shoulder. “I’m so worried. The last thing I want is to put your life in jeopardy.”

“Please, don’t worry about me. I have around-the-clock bodyguards. See, Cal is standing right over there watching me as we speak.”

“Anyone can be bribed for the right amount of money.”

Elysee’s eyes met Rana’s. “They’re that desperate to kill you?”

“You don’t understand how much I threaten those small-minded tyrants.”

“What you’re doing is very brave and dangerous,” Elysee said.

“No more than you.” Rana’s smile was tight, slight.

The combination to the rock safe yielded and Elysee took out the money. Furtively, she slipped it to Rana. The woman quickly stowed the cash into the folds of her sari.

“Bless you,” Rana said and kissed Elysee on the cheek.
“With this gift, you may very well have saved Alma Reddy’s life.”

Suddenly, Tish felt hot and dizzy, claustrophobic. The camera weighed heavy in her arms. She had to get out of this room. Without even thinking to turn off her camera, she hurried from the room. She passed a Secret Service agent posted at the doorway and went in search of the ladies’ room.

She swung the camera up onto her shoulder and opened a door where she believed the bathroom was located, but ended up outside on a patio. A few guests were there, taking in the fresh air, enjoying a quiet moment away from the crowd.

Rounding a cluster of potted ficus trees, she spied Lola talking in hushed tones to a man Tish didn’t recognize. The setting looked intimate. Glasses of champagne rested on the table in front of them and they were leaning in toward each other. Lola’s shoulder touched the stranger’s.

That’s when Tish saw the red Record light and realized the camera was still on.

Lola looked up at her, saw the camera, and frowned darkly. “Is that thing on? Turn that camera off. Right now.”

Jeez, what was she getting so fired up about? Was the guy beside her married or something?

“No, no,” Tish said. “It’s not on.”

“Don’t video me, Tish. I don’t like to be filmed.” Lola prickled.

“I’m not filming you. I was looking for the bathroom and got lost.”

“Go back inside the ballroom and out the second exit. The ladies’ room is the first door on your right.”

“Thanks, thanks.” Tish nodded at the man, but he had
his face turned away from her. Hmm, she was getting the feeling the guy was definitely married.

For shame, Lola
.

As Tish turned and hurried away, she heard Lola mutter to her paramour, “What a pathetic woman.”

Shane couldn’t find Elysee. Perhaps she’d gone upstairs to change her shoes. He stood in the middle of the room, water glass clutched in his hand, trying to spot his fiancée. Instead he saw Tish rush into the ballroom from the adjoining garden courtyard. He noticed as the Secret Service agent positioned at the door touched his earpiece and mouthed a coded message into the microphone.

Tish was under surveillance.

Shane sighed. What had she done now?

He set the glass of water down on a table and went after Tish. He saw Cal cruise by a bowl filled with matches engraved with the date of Shane and Elysee’s engagement and stuff them in his pocket.

Shane stepped through the doorway, peered down the empty hall, and then stepped back to speak to Cal.

“I thought you stopped smoking,” Shane said.

Cal shrugged. “Hard habit to break.”

“Did you see which way my wife went?”

Cal arched an eyebrow, but otherwise kept his face noncommittal as he’d been trained. Grace under pressure was part of the Secret Service agents’ code. “Your
wife
?”

It was only then Shane realized his Freudian slip. “I meant my ex-wife. Which way did she go?”

“Ladies’ room.”

“Thanks.” Shane went down the corridor to the ladies’ room and knocked on the door.

The attendant who’d been hired for the evening’s event poked her head from the lounge. “Yes, sir?”

“There’s a redhead in there with a camera.” He handed the woman a ten-dollar bill. “Will you tell her I want to see her, please?”

“Just a minute, sir.” She shut the door.

Feeling awkward, Shane waited in the hall. Cal stood at the other end of the hallway, watching him. Shane stuffed his hands in his pockets, turned his back, and tried to appear nonchalant.

What the hell was he doing out here anyway? So Tish was upset about something. What did he care? It was no longer his job to look out for her. This was Elysee’s big night. He should be at her side.

But he couldn’t shake Tish off his mind. She’d been upset about something. He’d seen it in her face. And no matter how he might wish things were otherwise, he still cared about her. Probably more than he should.

The door to the ladies’ lounge opened again and Shane straightened.

It wasn’t Tish, but the attendant. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Tell her I’m not going away until she does.”

The attendant sighed, rolled her eyes, and let the door close between them.

A couple of seconds passed. The attendant returned. “Actually, I’m cleaning this up a bit, but she said for you to buzz off back to your fiancée.”

That made him mad. He knew what word Tish had used in place of “buzz.” Shane glanced down at the woman’s nametag. “Stand aside, Mattie, I’m going in.”

“You can’t do that.” Mattie moved to block the door. “It’s the ladies’ room.”

“I’m aware of that, but I’m going in anyway,” he growled and glowered, giving her his full burly tough guy routine. “I’m Secret Service. Now step aside.”

The look on his face must have said it all, because Mattie hurriedly stepped aside.

Shane stalked past the mirrored sitting room where a handful of women were applying makeup, brushing their hair, and gossiping. They gaped when they saw him. He blew past them, his shoes trodding heavily on the tile as he walked down the row of stalls. He was pissed off. “Tish,” he said sternly. “Where are you?”

“Go away!” she hollered from the last stall on the left. In spite of the command, her voice sounded shaky.

“Come out here,” he said. “We need to talk.”

“Go back to Elysee. It’s her big day.”

“Exactly. So get out here. Let’s get this over with so I can get back to her.”

“Just leave me alone.”

What in the hell was wrong with the woman? He turned slightly, glanced back the way he’d come and spied a clutch of women standing in the doorway, craning their necks, looking for a show.

“That’s it,” he said and pointed for the door. “Out, out, everyone out.” He marched toward them, scowling and shooing them out with extravagant hand gestures. “You, too, Mattie. Go on, everybody mind your own business.”

“Ooh, he’s so manly.” One woman giggled. “He could boss me around anytime.”

“But this is his engagement party to Elysee and he’s come into the bathroom after another woman.” One of the women glared at him. “What’s that all about?”

“It’s the wedding videographer,” interjected a third woman.

“I heard she’s his ex-wife.”

“Out!” Shane rumbled, pointing at the door.

Tittering, they left.

Once he made sure the ladies’ lounge was empty, Shane dragged one of the heavy sitting room chairs in front of the door to block further interruptions. Then he went back after Tish.

“Open the door,” he demanded.

“No.”

“Tish, don’t make me bust the door down. I’m not in the best shape of my life here.”

“Please, Shane, just go away.” Her voice sounded so vulnerable, it sliced him like a blade. Emotion clotted inside him—a dark viscous knot of anger and regret, helplessness and concern.

“Tish, open the door.”

“What is with you and following me into bathrooms? Can’t a girl get a little privacy when she needs it?”

“If you don’t come out here and talk to me, I swear I’m kicking down this damned door.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I sure as hell would.” No one could irritate him as much as Tish when she was being stubborn.

“What would Elysee think? Directing so much passion toward me when you’re marrying her?”

“It’s not passion, dammit!” he yelled.

“You’re yelling and threatening to break down doors. Sounds like passion to me.”

“Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it. Who cares what upset you? I’m leaving.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Good-bye.”

“So long.”

“I don’t hear your feet carrying you off in the opposite direction,” she said.

Shane fisted his good hand, shifted his weight. This was idiotic. He was arguing with a bathroom stall door.

“Patricia Rhianne”—he almost said
Tremont
, but managed to bite off the word before it came out of his mouth—“Gallagher, get out here this minute.”

What was he going to do if she didn’t come out? Shane had made such a big deal out of this he couldn’t just walk away, although it was the sensible thing to do. Just walk away, go back to the party, back to his sweet-tempered Elysee, back to the new life he was forging for himself. But when it came to Tish, when had he ever taken the sensible route?

To his amazement, the stall door swung slowly inward and Tish peeked out at him, her eyes red-rimmed.

Tish? Crying?

Shane had only seen her cry once, and that was when… He bit down on the inside of his cheek at the rush of raw, hot emotion that suddenly filled the back of his throat.

“Have you been crying?”

“No,” she denied viciously. “I had something in my eye. That’s why I rushed into the bathroom. Happy now?”

“Sweetheart.” Instinctively he reached for her, with his raw, scarred hand. “Tell me the truth. What’s really wrong?”

Tish shrank back from him. “Don’t you dare touch me, Shane Tremont. And don’t you dare call me ‘sweetheart.’ ”

He retracted his hand, understanding he’d started across a line that he couldn’t cross. “I just want to help,” he said, and helplessly let his arm drop to his side.

“Why?” She glared at him and her breasts rose sharply as she drew in a deep breath of air.

Tish had always asked hard questions of him. She made him think, often goading him into reconsidering his positions. She challenged him to examine his values and beliefs.

In the beginning of their relationship, he’d loved that about her. Toward the end, it had driven him crazy. She could never leave well enough alone. Always prodding, digging, wanting more answers than he had to give.

“Because I care.”

“If you cared, why did you leave me?”

“You know why I left.”

“I needed you and you abandoned me, you asshole.”

Shane winced as her words struck him like a stunning blow. She was right and his failure ate at him. She didn’t deserve this.