Truly Madly Deeply Boxed Set (27 page)

Carly grinned and elbowed him in the ribs. “Since planning hasn’t worked, I decided to ambush you instead. Look.” She patted the bag that hung from her shoulder, bulging with lists and articles from the most recent wedding magazines.

Peter groaned. Looking thoroughly put out and grumbling about neurotic women, he allowed Carly to lead him to the couch and push him onto the cushion beside Mike. She knew better than to be insulted. Long before they’d gotten engaged, she and Peter had been friends. He understood her even when she drove him to sheer exasperation with her never-ending lists and articles. Besides, they shared the same goal—marriage and the perks that came with it.

For Carly those perks included stability and security. For Peter, she sensed their engagement had more to do with her solid support as he climbed the ladder toward partnership. When all was said and done, they wanted the same things, even if their dreams were a little different.

“Ready to get started?” She knelt down beside her fiancé.

“Go for it,” Mike said.

She chuckled aloud, determined to ignore the feelings he aroused. Seated together, Carly noticed a slight resemblance between the brothers. Both had light brown hair, though Peter’s had been recently cut and lacked the sun-kissed streaks of gold. They possessed similar profiles, but Mike’s tanned skin glowed from time spent in the rugged outdoors. Peter possessed a refined polish, a veneer he’d worked hard to achieve. She appreciated both men’s handsome looks... and refused to compare any further.

“Can we make it quick?” Peter asked. “I’ve got a brief to finish and file by nine tomorrow morning.”

“Pete...”

“Sure,” Carly said, cutting Mike off. He hadn’t been around often enough to understand the demands of his brother’s job. Having grown up the daughter of a prominent attorney, Carly did. “Humor me for a little while,” she said and began to pull items from her bag.

Calendar, lists and pictures soon decorated the table. Despite Peter’s token protests, Carly knew he realized that a few hours tonight would save them both a lot of aggravation in the future.

“See what I have to put up with?” Peter asked. She recognized the tinge of humor in his voice.

Mike glanced at Carly. “Life’s rough, Pete. Next time a beautiful woman wants my undivided attention for a few hours, remind me to complain.”

“Even if she wants to domesticate you?” Peter held up a glossy photo of a bride and groom.

The brothers shared a laugh, allowing Carly to see the bond that existed between them. One she hadn’t truly believed in before now.

“In that case,” Mike said, “I’d be on the first plane out of here.”

Carly’s stomach contracted painfully, a spasm she attributed to an aching emptiness and a sudden need... for food.

* * *

Mike yawned, glad the wedding plans were finally winding down.

“That’s two P.M. Friday at the tuxedo place and ten A.M. Saturday at the florist?” Pete asked.

Carly glanced down at her appointment book and nodded. “No excuses, no delays.” She pointedly raised her eyes and looked at her fiancé.

“As long as no surprises come up.”

“They won’t.”

Mike closed the pizza box. Despite the presence of his brother and Carly, he’d eaten alone. For the better part of two hours, Carly and Peter had bargained their way through last minute wedding arrangements. If the couple sitting before him was to be believed, the perfect wedding involved little sentiment and a lot of details. The Carly Wexler he’d seen mooning over her favorite wedding band hours earlier had displayed more emotion than the one here tonight.

What had happened to the glimpse he’d gotten of the softhearted romantic? Around his brother, she was nowhere to be found.

“You’ll be there or I’ll compromise my principles and have my father cover your caseload himself.” An angelic smile lit her features.

“Father?” Mike couldn’t help but interrupt.

His brother glanced over. “Senior partner,” he muttered.
A match made in professional heaven
. Mike nearly choked on a mouthful of soda.

Peter turned to Carly. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

“Then we’re all set.” She snapped her leather-bound diary closed.

“Definitely for the tuxedos, possibly for the flowers,” Pete said in an obvious last-minute attempt to maneuver the plans to his advantage.

She lifted one eyebrow. Mike held his breath.

“Done,” she said.

A woman who apparently knew when to accept compromise gracefully.

Peter stood. Carly followed, rising from her seat on the floor. She stretched her arms above her head. Her round breasts lifted enticingly beneath the body-hugging material of her tank top. Mike’s groin hardened, thrusting against the rough denim of his jeans. He swallowed a groan. A long night was about to get much longer.

“Time to let you get back to your work,” she said to Peter.

His brother smiled. “A woman after my own heart.” He placed one hand on the small of her back.

To his shock, Mike bit back a protest at the intimate contact. Throughout the evening, other than to ask Mike an occasional wedding-related question, Carly had ignored him. Having been the sole focus of her attention twice today, he couldn’t help feeling slighted.

“Good job, you two,” Mike said.

Startled, she whirled around and met his gaze. She brushed at her bangs. Her wide-eyed vulnerability hit him hard.

“Mike.”

His name on her lips sounded incredibly right... despite the fact that his brother stood by her side.

“Good night.” She ducked her head, brushing past him without another glance.

The vanilla scent he’d noticed earlier wrapped around him like a warm friend. “See you.”

While Peter walked Carly to the door, Mike flipped channels on the television with the remote control. Their muffled voices and Carly’s soft laugh drifted inside, commanding his attention. He swore and raised the volume a notch higher. Whether or not Peter kissed Carly was none of his concern. What those full lips would feel like was also none of his business.

With a guttural curse he’d picked up abroad, Mike shut the television, rose and headed into the guest room. Better to face his nightmares than to eavesdrop on the two lovers saying good night.

M
ike glanced around in disbelief. The tuxedo store couldn’t possibly hold more than five people comfortably. Yet there had to be at least fifteen customers vying for the attention of two harassed salesmen. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered.

“I do.”

Mike stood in the crowded store, too close to Carly, surrounded by her tantalizing scent. Whoever coined the term
best man
hadn’t had him in mind. At this rate, his goal of getting in and out looked bleak. And though he’d enjoy a morning in her company, he didn’t need the temptation. His brother wouldn’t appreciate Mike’s interest in his future wife.

“Looks like everyone wants to be a June bride,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Did you get a good look around you? The girls can’t be out of their teens and half of these guys have barely begun to shave. This is prom season, too.” Folding her hands in her lap, she took a seat in a vacant chair in the corner.

Mike leaned against the wall beside her. “Since Peter’s meeting us and he’s typically late, I guess we’ll have to wait anyway.”

“True.”

“Would you really have pulled rank on him?” Mike asked, seeking to understand this unlikely twosome. He knew that only a threat to Peter’s career would keep his single-minded brother from getting lost in work and forgetting an appointment. Even for his own wedding.

“We’ll never know, will we?” She sighed and glanced at her watch.

“He isn’t late yet.”

“I never said he was. I’m the one on a tight schedule today.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Both. I’ve got a late-afternoon deadline for my column and a four o’clock meeting.”

“Pete mentioned something about an advice column and some kind of counseling.” Mike glanced in Carly’s direction, more than a little curious about the many facets of Carly Wexler.

“Mmm. I write a magazine column for teens and I’m also a high-school guidance counselor.”

“Social worker?” he asked.

“Psychologist.”

“Sounds like you’re busy.”

She shrugged. “It’s seasonal. The fall is pretty hectic, but the summers are my own.”

“A job with perks. I like that.”

“Considering you’re a world traveler, I don’t doubt it,” she said with a grin.

From across the room a loud burst of male laughter was followed by distinctly feminine giggles. “What sort of advice do you give these kids?” Mike gestured in the direction of the carefree teens.

When was the last time he’d been
that
carefree? he wondered and immediately realized the incongruity of the question. He went out of his way to keep his life unencumbered by ties or commitments, yet lately he felt more burdened than ever before.

“They write in asking about how to deal with life. Friendship in some cases, love in others.”

“And you answer with the voice of experience?”

“Hardly.” She blushed a becoming shade of pink.

More like the voice of inexperience? Suddenly he wondered—about Carly, Pete, Carly and Pete— about a lot more than he had a right to know.

“I can’t be late for that meeting.” She not so subtly changed the topic.

“School appointment?” he asked.

She shook her head. “A publisher contacted me through the magazine. They’d like me to consider turning my columns into a self-help type of book.”

“I’m impressed.”

She waved away his compliment. “Good thing this shouldn’t take long. Black double-breasted tuxedos, white shirt, wing-tipped shoes and black bow ties and cummerbunds. What could be simpler?”

“Or more boring.”

She tilted her head backward and glared up at him. “What is that supposed to mean?” Fire flashed in her dark eyes, an unbelievable contrast to the controlled woman who’d sat with Peter and bartered over wedding arrangements.

The simmering passion intrigued him, made him want to dig deeper, beyond the exterior to the woman beneath. “Ever hear of color?” He deliberately baited her. “Or do you want the wedding party to resemble the Sunday
Times
?”

“Mike...”

“Sorry. Bridesmaids dresses bring in color, right? What would you pick? Pink?” He shook his head. “Too childish. There’s yellow...”

“Mike.”

“Peach.”

“Mike.”

“Or my personal favorite, purple.” He eyed her intently. “Which is it?”

“White.”

He groaned aloud. “Your choice?” he asked.
Not a chance in hell
. Behind those rigid lists and schedules lurked a woman brimming with passion and fire. He’d bet his favorite camera on it.

More than once he’d ignited sparks in those expressive brown eyes. Sparks he’d yet to notice between Carly and her fiancé. His brother, he harshly reminded himself. “White,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Not my choice exactly. I wasn’t sure. Peter wanted elegant, my mother wanted formal, so we...”

“Compromised,” he finished for her. “It’s a good thing you’re so compliant.”

“You make me sound like a well-behaved pet. Are you looking to start trouble?”

Looking for trouble? No. Looking for a glimpse of the untapped sensuality that sizzled beneath the conservative facade? Definitely. “Of course not,” he said.

“Good. I just pick my battles carefully.”

“I’ll remember that. It’s just...” He shook his head. “Never mind. None of my business.”

Her eyes narrowed with distrust... and a slight spark? “What?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“This is your wedding, right?”

“Stupid question.”

“Is it? For someone loaded down with wedding books and bridal pictures you’re giving up control of some major issues.” He reached for her, covering her ice-cold hand with his warmer one. He gazed into her eyes. The spark erupted into a flame of unchecked desire.

His thumb brushed over her third finger, avoiding the large diamond ring that looked so out of place on her delicate hand. Traitorous desires consumed his body while conflicting emotions swirled inside his head. The pad of his thumb traced a pattern just above her knuckle, where her wedding band would sit. “Think about it,” he murmured.

She shot him a look that could freeze hot coffee and wrenched her hand free from his.

“Miss Wexler?” a salesman greeted her. The rush of high-school students disappeared out the door, taking the loud laughs and boisterous shouts along with them. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“That’s okay.” She stood, obviously grateful for the interruption.

“If you and your fiancé are ready to get started...” Mike remained standing against the wall and glanced at Carly.

She fingered her bangs, a nervous gesture he found awfully endearing. And sweet. The woman would never hold her own in a game of poker, but at least he’d never be left guessing about her true feelings.

“He’s not my fiancé,” she finally said.

“Future brother-in-law.” The label grated. Mike forced a smile and shook the other man’s hand.

“Are we waiting for the groom?”

“No. We can start with the best man. Peter will be here soon,” Carly said.

Wisely, Mike didn’t touch that statement. Ten minutes later he stood in front of a full-length mirror, decked out in formal attire. “Jacket’s too tight,” he said, rolling his bad shoulder to alleviate the discomfort. He’d deal with the bow-tie issue later.

“We have a tailor downstairs.” The salesman brushed a hand across the back of the jacket.

Carly swallowed hard. The material rippled over Mike’s broad shoulders. She clenched her hands into tight fists but the gesture didn’t alleviate the need to touch him. Nor did it lessen the painful knot in her stomach.

The salesman continued to speak, drawing her attention back to tuxedos and tailoring. “Needs some alterations, but nothing major. If you folks will excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

Carly walked around Mike, scrutinizing the snug fit of the material and trying not to imagine the lean, hard body beneath the tailored clothing. “It suits you.”