The Bridesmaid's Gifts

She glanced once again toward Ethan, who was watching Joel and Nic now. Strange how she’d had so few insights about him since she had met him. As well as she usually read people, she’d gotten very little from Ethan—primarily that he seemed suspicious of her and had from the start. She still wondered what he had been told about her.

Ethan took great pride in being a realist and a skeptic. He didn’t believe in mind readers, mediums, poltergeists, UFOs, vampires, Santa Claus or love at first sight. If he couldn’t see it, feel it, touch it or prove it, he had no use for it.

And yet—every time he looked into Aislinn’s exotically shaped near-black eyes, he felt something shift inside him. He couldn’t explain it any better than that, but something definitely happened. And he had been on edge ever since he’d met her.

Lust, he told himself. Nothing more complicated than that. And who could blame him? On a scale of one to ten, this woman was a twelve. A perfect heart-shaped face framed by long, glossy black hair. Eyes as dark as still water on a cloudless night. A full, soft mouth that could make a man want to believe anything she might tell him.

As for the rest of her, well, he had to remind himself that he was in a church just to keep his eyes from lingering too long on curves that made his mouth go dry and his palms itch.

Realizing the fanciful direction his thoughts had taken, he had to force himself not to scowl. He didn’t need to be standing up here glowering during the ceremony or people might get the idea he had a problem with the bride rather than the maid of honor.

It was too bad, really. Under normal circumstances, he might have been happy to spend some time with a beautiful woman like Aislinn while he was visiting the area.

It seemed appropriate that her bridesmaid dress was a bold, bright red. The color of danger.

“…I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The solemn words brought Ethan’s attention back to the ceremony. He managed a slight smile as Joel enthusiastically kissed his bride to the accompaniment of sentimental sighs from the guests gathered to witness the occasion.

He was as pleased for his brother as everyone else was. Despite his initial concerns about police officer Nic Sawyer’s suitability for Joel, he had quickly been convinced that they were a very good match. Though she couldn’t have been more different from Heather, Nic was exactly what Joel needed now, six years after the tragedy that had changed the direction of his life. She made Joel happy again, which was all that really mattered as far as Ethan was concerned.

Beaming like two high-intensity bulbs, Nic and Joel turned to face their audience as they were introduced for the first time as Dr. and Mrs. Brannon. Holding her bouquet again in her right hand, Nic slipped her left hand beneath Joel’s arm for their walk down the aisle. Following the instructions he had been given, Ethan moved to stand behind the couple, presenting his arm to Aislinn.

She hesitated only a moment before sliding her hand beneath his arm. The pause was so slight that he doubted anyone else had noticed, but he knew he hadn’t imagined it.

Despite his skepticism of anything resembling premonition, he had the oddest feeling as he escorted Aislinn down the aisle in the wake of his brother and new sister-in-law. Had to be hunger, he told himself. Lunch had been a long time ago.

Aislinn had practiced walking out on Ethan’s arm during the rehearsal the evening before. She had been surprised then to feel such well-defined muscles beneath the conservative but casual business-consultant clothing—and she was struck again now by how strong and solid his arm felt beneath her lightly resting fingertips.

Funny how nervous she’d been about touching him each time, she thought as she smiled at familiar faces she passed going down the aisle. Whatever inspired her hunches, she had never been overly influenced by physical contact. Yet she had been so wary of touching Ethan, almost as if she’d been worried that doing so would trigger some previously unknown ability within herself. How silly.

Or maybe the reason for her hesitation had been a lot more basic than that. Maybe it had more to do with the fact that she found Ethan Brannon just a bit too attractive for her own peace of mind. Dropping his arm the moment they stepped out of the sanctuary and into the vestibule, she reminded herself that he didn’t seem to like her very much. She wasn’t particularly fond of him, either, with his cutting remarks and obvious suspicions.

“Oh, my gosh.” Nic looked a bit dazed as she turned to Aislinn. “I think I just got married.”

Aislinn laughed, as did everyone else within hearing. “You did, sweetie.”

“Too late to back out now,” Joel said cheerfully.

His bride grinned up at him. “That goes both ways.”

Aislinn noted that Joel didn’t look at all perturbed by Nic’s reminder.

The reception was held in the ballroom of a local country club. It wasn’t an overly large room but big enough for the intimate crowd Nic and Joel had invited to celebrate their marriage with them. A local country band, made up of four talented teenagers who were already getting statewide attention for their singing and songwriting talent, provided the music.

Unpretentious but delicious food was served buffet-style, with coffee, fruit punch and sparkling grape juice for beverages. The lack of champagne or other alcoholic choices had nothing to do with the wedding budget but everything to do with Nic’s relentless campaigning against drinking and driving. Through her career she had seen entirely too many tragic accidents involving alcohol and she had no intention of contributing to the statistics by serving drinks to people who had driven to her reception.

It wasn’t as if public transportation was plentiful in the smallish central-Arkansas town. Whole months often passed without Aislinn seeing one cab. When the locals wanted to go somewhere, they drove. This was part of the reason traffic was such an issue as the thriving area grew more rapidly than the aging street system.

She cast a quick, assessing glance at the table that held the wedding cake, making sure it was still in pristine condition for photographs and the ceremonial cutting by the bride and groom. Though Nic had requested an understated cake to go with the simple theme of the wedding, Aislinn had spent hours crafting the perfect wedding cake for her best friend. She had taken her inspiration from Nic’s heirloom wedding gown, first worn in the mid-1940s by Nic’s grandmother, then by Nic’s mother, Susan, in the early seventies.

The gown was satin, covered with lace painstakingly dotted with seed pearls. It had been hand sewn by Nic’s great-grandmother, making it a priceless family treasure, immaculately preserved. Only a minimum of tailoring had been required for Nic, and Aislinn had no doubt that the gown would survive for another generation or two, perhaps to be worn by Nic’s future daughter-in-law, or maybe a granddaughter.

Aislinn had so few heirlooms from her own family that she could only imagine how much the gown meant to Nic and her mother. So the dress had seemed to be the logical theme for the wedding cake. Borrowing Nic’s matching veil for a few days and using photographs of the dress as inspiration, Aislinn had designed a white-on-white cake that looked as though it was covered in the same lace as the dress.

It had involved hours of eye-crossingly intricate string work and hundreds of tiny, hand-set edible “pearls.” She had created gentle folds in the fondant “fabric” and had cascaded a spray of white-frosting roses entwined with green-tinted frosting ivy down one side, as if a bouquet had been carelessly laid upon the satin-and-lace cake. She’d forgone the overused bride-and-groom topper, using white gum-paste roses instead.

She had been pleased with Nic’s reaction upon seeing the finished cake for the first time. Nic had acted as though she had never seen anything more beautiful in her life, even becoming uncharacteristically misty as she had examined every angle of the cake.

“It’s gorgeous, Aislinn,” she had said huskily. “The best you’ve ever done. I feel as though you should enter it in a competition or something, not just give it to me for my reception.”

Laughing, Aislinn had shaken her head. “There’s nothing I would rather do with it,” she had assured her friend. “As far as I’m concerned, this is the most special cake I’ve ever created because it’s for you.”

The guests at the reception seemed to be properly appreciative of the effort. They gathered around the cake, oohing and aahing, asking Aislinn repeatedly if all the details were actually edible. Laughing, she assured them that, as intricate as the decorations were, the cake was meant to be eaten.

“So you made that?”

She turned to find Ethan standing behind her, a glass of punch in his hand, his gaze focused on the cake. “Yes, I made that.”

If he noted her wryly mocking repetition, he ignored it. “It looks nice.”

Feeling a little petty now, she replied more genuinely, “Thank you. It was the most important cake I’ve ever done.”

“You and Nic are pretty tight, huh?”

“We’ve been friends for a long time. Since elementary school.”

“And when did you start the psychic thing?”

She counted mentally to ten, then gave a fake smile and a slight wave aimed toward a pillar on the other side of the room. “If you’ll excuse me, Ethan, I see someone I should say hello to. Perhaps you should offer your mother another glass of punch. She looks a little wilted.”

Before he could answer, she was already moving away, congratulating herself on her restraint. There was absolutely no way she would do anything to put a damper on Nic’s wedding reception, but Ethan Brannon could try the patience of a saint.

She didn’t know what it was about her that made him feel compelled to bait her, but he never seemed to miss an opportunity. Fortunately she could think of no reason for spending any more time with him once this evening was over.

“Ethan.”

Having been unaware that his brother was anywhere nearby, Ethan grimaced a little before turning around to face Joel with an expression of feigned innocence. “Hey, bro. Nice party.”

“Yes, it is. So stop trying to mess it up, okay?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Ethan muttered into his punch glass.

“You were picking on Aislinn again.”

Faintly amused by his brother’s wording, Ethan shrugged. “I was just talking to her. You know, making small talk. Isn’t that what one’s supposed to do at these things? I told her I liked the cake.”

“There was more to it than that. I didn’t hear what you said, but I could tell she didn’t like it.”

“So are you into mind reading now?”

“Leave her alone, Ethan. She’s not a fraud and she’s not a crackpot. She’s Nic’s best friend, almost a sister to her—which makes her, like, an honorary sister-in-law to me now. So be nice to her,” Joel ordered sternly.

Ethan sighed. “I’ll try. It’s just that whole psychic thing. I’m not buying in to it.”

“Nobody’s asking you to. Certainly Aislinn’s not asking you to. She hates when anyone calls her a psychic or talks about her…well, gifts, for lack of a better word. Just treat her like you do anyone else. No, scratch that. Be polite to her.”

Because it was Joel’s wedding day and Ethan was feeling uncharacteristically magnanimous, he said, “I’ll work on it.”

Joel clapped him on the shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

Still looking radiant in her white satin and lace, Nic broke away from the final group of well-wishers who had lingered with her at the end of the reception line Joel had just escaped. “What are you two plotting over here?”

Ethan lightly chucked her chin with the knuckles of his free hand. “I was just commiserating with my kid brother. Now that he’s married a cop, he’s going to have to toe the line.”

“You’ve got that straight.” Nic’s sudden tough-girl expression was especially funny considering the delicate lace draping her. “I’ve got handcuffs.”

Looking intrigued, Joel slid his arm around her slender waist. “Maybe we should discuss those…later.”

Ethan groaned and looked down at his empty punch glass. “I think I need some more of this fruity stuff. Since there isn’t anything stronger.”

“Nic. Joel.” Nic’s mother, Susan Sawyer, hurried toward them, a look of determination on her face, which so strongly resembled her daughter’s. “The photographer wants to take a few more pictures of you while the guests are in line at the buffet tables.”

Though Nic rolled her eyes a bit, she took Joel’s arm and turned obediently with him. “Yes, Mother.”

Joel looked back over his shoulder at his brother. “Try to look like you’re enjoying yourself, will you? I know you don’t like parties—but you could pretend you do.”

“To paraphrase a cheesy movie I caught on cable recently—this is my party face.”

Joel moved on with a resigned shake of his head, leaving Ethan to reflect that when it came to parties, he had always been pretty much hopeless. He didn’t do small talk, he wasn’t much of a dancer, he was uncomfortable in crowds and he was lousy at pretending to be having a good time when he wasn’t.

He stood unobtrusively at one side of the room while the other guests gathered around Nic and Joel or sat at the comfortably arranged small tables to enjoy the finger-foods buffet provided by the caterer. Ethan wasn’t hungry, so he remained where he was, watching.

His gaze turned toward the cake table in its place of honor. The cake was so fancy that it was almost a shame to destroy it, he thought, wondering how many hours Aislinn had spent on those incredibly detailed decorations. Hers was an odd business. All that time and effort spent on something so transient. A plain cake tasted just as good as one covered in fake lace and flowers.

Still, as a small-business consultant, he appreciated the fact that she had found a market for her skills and was apparently making a living at it. He wondered idly if she was charging enough for her time, taking full deductions on her supplies and other expenses. If she had a solid business plan to keep her on track to grow and expand her cottage industry.

“You’re thinking about work, aren’t you?” His mother, petite, blond Elaine Brannon, slipped a hand beneath his arm as she spoke indulgently. “You always get that exact look in your eyes when you’re trying to figure out how to make money for someone else. Are you already planning how to restructure your brother’s business office?”

“Something like that. How are you holding up, Mom?”

She gave him a look and spoke firmly. “I’m fine. The wedding was lovely, wasn’t it? Very simple and sweet.”

“It was nice. Nic was right to resist overdoing things. I hate those splashy, overblown, pretentious affairs.”

“You’re referring to your cousin Jessica’s wedding last year?”

He grimaced. “Bingo. The circus with the twelve bridesmaids and four flower girls and two dogs in tuxedos and the white doves and oversize ice sculptures and clowns and horse-drawn carriages and full orchestra and endless speeches by inebriated guests.”

“There weren’t any clowns,” Elaine murmured, though she couldn’t refute any of the rest of his drawled description. “I was sorry I coerced you into going to that one. I knew Marlene and Jessica would go overboard, but I didn’t think they would get that carried away.”

“Yeah, well, the worst part was that Marlene and Ted are going to be paying for that production long after the marriage is over.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.” Elaine shook her head in disapproval. “Jessica and Bobby have already separated twice, and last I heard, things aren’t looking any better for them. Still, Marlene could have made an effort to come to Joel’s wedding after we all made the trip to Iowa for Jessica’s.”

As much as he knew his mother enjoyed family gossip—the reason he’d brought up the juicy topic in the first place—Ethan was bored with discussing his father’s sister and her ostentatious lifestyle. “You and Susan seem to have been getting along very well,” he remarked, glancing across the room to where Nic’s mother stood chatting with the minister.

“She’s an interesting woman,” Elaine agreed. “She has some fascinating stories about living in Europe with her son. He has to return tomorrow because of job demands, but she’s staying here another week to visit with her friends before rejoining Paul in Paris. She even offered to provide accommodations and guide service if your father and I would like to visit there. Wasn’t that nice?”

“Good luck getting Dad to Paris,” Ethan murmured. “He would be convinced his practice would collapse and termites would eat the house to the ground while he was gone.”

Elaine sighed gustily. “He has to retire sometime, right? He can’t keep practicing orthodontia for the rest of our lives.”

“You know he would drive you crazy if he quit the practice. But maybe he’ll agree to take you to Paris later this summer since Susan made such a nice offer. I’ll even promise to check the house every day for termites.”

Smiling at the gentle mockery of her husband’s one odd obsession, Elaine said, “Between the two of us, maybe we can talk him into it. I would love to see Paris.”

Ethan made a mental note to persuade his father to book the trip as soon as possible. And then, because his mother faced a rather significant medical appointment next week, he tried to assure himself that there would be no reason for her not to enjoy that long-overdue vacation.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come back to Danston with you? Because I can come back and reorganize Joel’s operations later….”

She shook her head sternly. “You will stay here, just as you’ve planned. It’s the ideal time for you to look over Joel’s office procedures and to keep an eye on things while he and Nic are away. I never should have told you about my appointment. If you hadn’t happened to be there when the nurse called, I would have waited to tell you when I tell Joel—after I have all the results back.”

“Yeah, well, Joel’s going to be ticked off that you didn’t tell him sooner, just as I would have been.”

She leveled a finger at him in the same gesture she had always used when delivering a maternal order. “Don’t you dare say a word to him, Ethan Albert Brannon. I won’t have his honeymoon spoiled by worrying about something that will probably turn out to be nothing at all.”

He sighed and responded as he always did to that particular tone. “Yes, ma’am.”

“They’re getting ready to start the dancing.” Elaine glanced toward the corner where the band was starting to play again. “Interesting choice of musicians. They look young enough to be high school students.”

“They are. I think a couple of them are Joel’s patients.”

“Really? How odd. But pretty much what I’ve come to expect from Nic.”

“Admit it, you like her.”

“More all the time,” she confessed with a smile. “She really is a dear, isn’t she? And she loves Joel so much.”

“Obviously mutual.”

“Oh, yes. He’s crazy about her.” Looking pensive now, Elaine gazed across the room to where Joel and Nic were moving to the center of the dance floor. “I can’t help thinking back to Joel and Heather’s big, formal wedding. It was so different from this intimate little affair. Beautiful in its own way but different. And as happy as Joel was with Heather, this seems so much more fitting for the man he is now.”

Ethan didn’t want to talk about his late sister-in-law tonight, six years after her death. “This is who Joel is now,” he agreed simply, then changed the subject. “Do you want something to eat? I’ll get a plate for you.”

“No, thank you. I’d better go join your father. He’s starting to give me signals that he’s ready to be rescued from Nic’s uncle’s fishing stories. By the way, you really should ask the maid of honor to dance. I know you don’t care for dancing, but it is sort of tradition, you know.”

He frowned as he glanced instinctively across the room to where Aislinn sat at a table eating with Nic’s mother and brother. “Considering my dancing skills—or lack thereof—she would probably just as soon I didn’t ask her.”

“Nonsense, Ethan. You’re perfectly capable of moving in time to the music. And why wouldn’t you want to dance with her? She’s very pretty. There’s something a little…I don’t know…different about her, but I suppose that’s to be expected from Nicole’s best friend, isn’t it?”

Elaine seemed to have no idea just how “different” Aislinn was rumored to be—and not just in Nic’s refreshingly unpredictable way, Ethan mused after his mother went off to rescue his dad. No surprise, of course. He wouldn’t have known himself had it not been for that incident back in the fall, when Aislinn had called to warn of Nic’s impending accident.

It wasn’t as if anyone around here ever openly talked about it—not that he’d heard, at least. They simply acted a bit wary around Aislinn, as though they weren’t quite sure what to say to her.

Oddly enough, he was sometimes treated the same way back in Danston. As though he didn’t quite fit in with everyone else. Though, as far as he knew, no one had ever accused him of having any supernatural abilities.

The bride and groom finished their dance, and everyone else was encouraged to take the floor. With a slight shrug, Ethan moved toward Aislinn. What the heck. It wasn’t as if there was anything else to do. And dancing with a beautiful woman—even one who pretended to be a psychic—was more entertaining than just standing there being bored.

Chapter Three

Aislinn was taken completely off guard when Ethan asked her to dance, which perhaps explained why she couldn’t come up with a quick and polite excuse to decline. Not that there was any real reason why she shouldn’t have accepted, of course, she reminded herself as they moved toward the small dance floor. It was sort of expected for the best man and the maid of honor to share a dance.

She was aware of that same odd hesitation when he turned to take her into his arms, almost a wariness of letting him touch her. She still couldn’t understand why she felt that way around him. She’d touched nearly everyone else in this room, shaking hands in the reception line, exchanging brief social hugs with the people she had known most of her life. There had been no unusual flashes of insight, no unprecedented reactions to the physical contact. There was just something about Ethan….

“Why did you look so surprised when I asked you to dance?” he asked as soon as they music began.

Keeping as much distance between them as politely possible, she shrugged lightly before answering, “I just didn’t think you would.”

Mentally she dared him to make some smart-aleck remark about how he would have expected her to predict the invitation, but to her relief, he let it pass. Maybe he’d gotten tired of making digs about her so-called abilities. At least she hoped that was the case.

“I guess you and I haven’t gotten off to a very good start,” he said abruptly. “And I suppose that’s my fault. I’m not very good at the social thing—meeting people, making small talk. Saying the right things.”

“You choose not to be good at it because it isn’t important to you,” she murmured in return. “You’re perfectly capable of making polite conversation when you make the effort.”

She was almost surprised when he agreed with her rather than challenge her again. “You’re probably right. I just don’t choose to make the effort very often.”

“I’m not exactly a party animal either,” she admitted after a moment. “I prefer small gatherings to large crowds. And I sometimes have trouble knowing what to say to people I don’t know very well. So I’ll take part of the blame for any awkwardness between us.”

“Very generous of you.”

His tone sounded more humorous than mocking, so she smiled. “Yes, I thought so.”

He seemed to search for something else innocuous to say. “They’ll be cutting the cake soon, I guess. Will it bother you to watch them chop it up?”