“Which is why the wedding should take place in June,” Mom said, her jaw tilting to its most stubborn angle.
Kelley dismissed her words with a wave of her hand. “June is completely passe for brides. May is the perfect month-”
“Stop,” Jessica said, holding up her hand. “I don’t want to wait until May or June.” She looked at Eric. “Do you?”
“I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.”
She nearly sagged with relief at his reply. Sometimes she truly feared he’d finally get so disgusted with all these issues that he’d decide she wasn’t worth the aggravation. The mere thought made her feel physically ill.
He turned toward his sister. “The wedding will take place, as Jess and I planned, in February.”
“But the weather-” Kelley protested.
“February,” reiterated Eric.
The waitress delivered their drinks and while Eric signed the bill to charge them to their room, Jess took a grateful sip of wine. Based on the first few minutes, this was going to be a looooong meeting.
“What’s the next thing on your list?” Eric asked Kelley.
“We still haven’t decided which ballroom we’ll need.”
“The large one,” Jessica’s mom stated firmly.
Jessica’s headache grew worse. “Mom…I’ve told you that Eric and I would prefer a smaller wedding. Maybe around fifty people. Or less.”
Her mom’s eyebrows shot upward-as if she’d never heard this before-then collapsed in a frown. “Fifty? Impossible. That would barely cover our immediate family.”
“Mom, there’re only six of us in our immediate family.”
“I mean our immediate circle-of family, friends, business associates and coworkers.” She reached out and patted Jessica’s arm. “You don’t need to be concerned about the cost, dear. I’ve been saving for this day for a long time. The wedding is my gift to you.” She flicked a look at Eric. “And Eric, too.”
God, she hated when her mother did that-glanced at Eric as if he were something she’d just scraped off the bottom of her shoe, then tacked him onto the end of her sentence like an unpleasant afterthought. She’d discussed the matter privately with her mother several times, but each talk had degenerated into an argument with her mother harping that Eric was “the competition” and that Jessica should find some other man to marry-a doctor or lawyer would be nice. She’d even gone so far as to suggest that all the arguments were actually Jessica’s fault for not introducing Eric to the family until they were already engaged.
Uh-huh. Well, she’d have to take the bullet on that one because she had kept Eric to herself for their entire six-month courtship. Because she’d known how her mother and brothers would react. Her brothers hadn’t liked anyone she’d ever dated, and had scared off more than one potential boyfriend. As for Mom, she’d also found fault with every guy Jessica had ever brought home-except for her high school boyfriend, John Wilson. And the only reason Mom had liked him was that he was the spitting image of a young Paul Newman. Which was good. But John also had a roving eye. Which was not good. By the time she graduated from college, she’d learned that there were only two types of guys she should bring home to meet the family-the type she didn’t want to date anymore as one visit, especially with the brothers, pretty much insured she wouldn’t hear from him again, and the guy she wanted to marry.
She’d known from that first moment she laid eyes on Eric that he was The One, and every moment spent with him over the next six months had only served to reinforce that first impression. And that being the case, she sure as hell hadn’t wanted to scare him off. She was just working up the courage to suggest he meet her family when he asked her to marry him. That had led to their first meeting with her family a week later basically becoming Mom, guys, this is Eric. We’re engaged.
Although Jessica didn’t meet Eric’s family, either, until after they were engaged, that first meeting had gone much better. But that promising beginning had slithered right down the tubes when they’d brought the two families together for the first time two weeks later.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
“Now that we’ve settled the ballroom issue,” Kelley’s voice broke into her reverie, “let’s move on to the color scheme.”
“Butter-yellow,” said Mom.
“Impossible,” vetoed Kelley. “Too pale and springlike for February. Not only that-”
“I’m going to the bar to watch the game,” Marc broke in, clearly anxious to escape all discussions of things butter-yellow. Jessica envied him his freedom and wished she could join him.
Kelley turned to Eric. “Why don’t you go with him, Eric? Unless you want to discuss the impossibility of butter- yellow?”
Everything male in Eric wanted to bolt from the chair and escape, but he wasn’t about to abandon Jess. He turned toward her and she nodded. “Go ahead.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear, “Go. Save yourself. No reason we both should suffer.” Her teeth grazed his earlobe and his eyes glazed over. Damn it. All he wanted to do was get her alone. Finish what they’d started before the descent of The Families. He was one breath away from yanking her out of that chair, slinging her into his arms and escaping back to their cabin. Locking the door and telling the world and their families to leave them the hell alone. And by God, if this wedding meeting wasn’t over in the next half hour, that’s exactly what he was going to do.
“Besides, I like that you’ll owe me one,” she whispered.
An inferno of edgy need gripped him. Yeah, he’d owe her one and he couldn’t wait to pay up. Still, he considered remaining with her in case an arbitrator was needed, but then it occurred to him that maybe she wanted some female bonding time. There was woman stuff that guys weren’t supposed to be privy to-maybe wedding decorations were one of those things-what the hell did he know? Plus, this gave him an opportunity for a one-on- one conversation with Marc, something he’d never had with any of her brothers. From what he could tell, they always traveled in a pack. Like rabid dogs. Maybe if it was just the two of them, he’d make some progress. Jess with the women and him with Marc…maybe they could divide and conquer. It certainly was worth a shot. Then he’d get her alone. And naked. And put out this damn fire eating at him.
He stood, picked up his beer then leaned down to drop a kiss on Jess’s curly, honey-colored hair. “I’ll be at the bar if you need me.”
He approached Marc with all the enthusiasm he would a coiled cobra. After sliding onto the empty stool next to his soon-to-be brother-in-law, he waited for Marc to acknowledge his presence, but his brother-in-law-to-be’s gaze never shifted from the hockey game flickering on the TV. Hockey-just another strike against Eric in the Hayden brothers’ eyes. They were all die-hard hockey-and football-fanatics while Eric preferred basketball and baseball. And tennis-which really didn’t help his cause as the Hayden brothers all thought tennis was wimpy. Obviously none of them had ever played a grueling three-hour, three-set match.
Eric finally nodded toward the TV and asked, “What’s the score?”
“Rangers are up, three to one.”
Then more silence. Not a real chatty guy, Marc. Before Eric could think of another conversation opener, the bartender, who wore a Santa hat and a friendly smile, approached. “You need another beer?” he asked, eyeing Eric’s nearly empty bottle.
Eric did a double take, then glanced toward the reception area where he spotted Roland Krause chatting with a guest. “Sure, thanks. For a second there I thought you were Roland. Are you related?”
The man grinned. “We’re cousins. Everyone thinks we’re brothers.” He extended his hand. “I’m Steve. Steve Howell. Roland and I may look alike, but under my Santa hat, I have a lot more hair than he does.”
After Steve had brought the beer and moved off toward the other end of the bar, Eric watched the game for a few minutes while another long silence stretched between him and Marc. Well, it was one way to avoid an argument-don’t talk. At least the guy was scowling at the TV instead of at him.
Just then he felt the weight of Marc’s stare. When he turned to look at him, Marc was-no big shocker- scowling.
“My sister doesn’t look happy,” Marc said.
Eric’s head turned so fast toward the table where Jess sat he practically heard his muscles snap. She was taking a sip of her wine and seemed fine.
“I don’t mean right this second,” Marc clarified. “I mean in general.”
