My Best Friend's Bride (8 page)

“Yes,
her
.” Hunter leaned toward him. “Jillian Jamison, relationship expert extraordinaire. It’s like she was starved for affection. Couldn’t get en—”

Brad cut him off. “Don’t let your ego get the best of you. And don’t you dare go taking advantage of—”

“Advantage?” He stared at Brad agape. “What are you talking about? She’s going to be my wife.”

“In name only,” Brad hissed back. “I’m sure she made that clear.”

“Crystal, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I can’t read between the lines.”

“She was faking it with that kiss,” Brad said, “and you know it.”

“Trust me, I know
faking it
and I know the real deal. That kiss was not pretend.”

“I was an eyewitness.”

“You’ll forgive me for saying my perspective was a bit more personal than yours.”

Brad looked him up and down and narrowed his eyes.

“Come on, man. Stop looking at me like that. You know I’d never
take advantage
of any woman, married to her or not. I’m just saying I wouldn’t be opposed if she initiated.”

“Don’t hold your breath, pal.”

“No worries. I won’t.” He downed the last of his beer, then winked at his friend. “But I don’t intend to lock my bedroom door, either.”

Jill wheeled her grandfather into the great room rather than the courtyard because it was raining outside. The stormy weather matched her mood. While Jill didn’t like lying to her grandpa, the thought of his being abruptly uprooted held even less appeal.

A gracious nurse brought them two cardboard cups of hot tea and Jill thanked her as she went away. Her grandpa took a sip of his, then balanced the cup on his knee. “A little hot,” he said. “I’ll wait a bit.”

“Here, let me set that down.” Jill offered to take it from him, but he politely declined.
 

“This way I’ll have it when I need it.”

That was so like him. Determined to remain as independent as possible. Jill’s heart broke over his current condition. If there wasn’t someone there to dress him each morning, he’d likely spend all day in his pajamas. Her grandpa had been a proud man who took care with his appearance. Jill was grateful the good staff here were helping preserve his dignity. He looked dapper in his chinos and button-down shirt, which was covered with a lightweight pullover sweater. Even in summer, he tended to feel cold. That was another good reason to have hot tea to warm him up. He blew into the hot liquid in his cup, then tried again with a tiny sip.
 

“So?” he asked her. “How did things go with your agent? All straightened out?”

Jill was amazed at how he sometimes remembered things so clearly. “Yes,” she said with a sigh. “Thankfully.”

“The publisher too, then, I take it?”

“I shouldn’t have troubled you with my work.”

“Poppycock! If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

He had her there. Despite her job, which involved a flurry of tours and professional interaction with people, Jill didn’t have many true friends. She’d spent far more time giving relationship advice to others than focusing on building relationships of her own.

She took a sip of her own tea, finding it weak. Kind of like the lame storyline she’d prepared. “Grandpa?” she asked tentatively, looking up.
 

“Yes, dear?”

“You remember me saying I was getting married?”

“To Brad, yes. That chap you knew in grade school. When are you going to bring him by to see me, by the way? Seems if he were half a gentleman he’d have asked my permission.”

“Not too many people do that anymore.”

“Why not? Unless they’re hiding something. Why, in my day—”

“I know.” She reached out and lightly patted his free hand. “But times have changed.”

“That’s why there are so many bust-ups,” he retorted surely.

“Bust-ups?”

“Divorces. Couples not staying together. Nobody goes in it for the long haul anymore. They might as well write a short-term contract.”

Jill swallowed hard. “I don’t think that’s because of the groom failing to ask permission.”

“That’s where it all starts, can’t you see?” he said, light blue eyes glistening. “When someone has honorable intentions, he presents those to the family. Right now, I’m the only family you’ve got.”

“Yes, but—”

“Why don’t you bring Brad by so we can get this over with? It’s a little after the fact, but better late than never.”

Jill drew a breath, speaking softly. “There is no Brad.”

Her grandpa’s hand grabbed hers. “My dear, I’m so sorry.” She opened her eyes to find him angling toward her in his wheelchair. “What happened?”

“He… I…” She hedged and looked away. “It’s complicated.”

“Love is always complicated.” He squeezed her hand and let it go, sitting back with his tea. “You work it out.”

“Grandpa, I don’t think there’s any way.”

“Of course there’s a way!
Where there’s a will, there’s a way
. When you love someone, you…” He stopped and studied her stance. Jill hung her head.

“You don’t love him, do you?” her grandpa asked quietly.

Tears stung her eyes. “I’d hate for you to judge me.”

“I’m not your judge,” he said soothingly. “I’m your advocate, and someone who loves you very much.”

Jill sniffed and set her chin, still avoiding his eyes. “What if I were to tell you there’s someone else?”

He barely paused at all. “Well, now, my! That
is
a complication.” To her surprise, he chuckled warmly. “How did this all come about?”

She gritted her teeth before speaking. “It’s… Hunter Delaney. The man I’ve fallen in love with. He’s Brad’s best friend.”

Her grandfather studied her thoughtfully for a moment.

“I have to give you credit, Jill. When you said complicated, you meant it. You clearly know your vocabulary.” This made her smile.

“Oh Grandpa… You’re not mad?”

“Why would this upset me? I’m not the jilted party.” He took one last sip of tea and placed his cup on a side table. “So, how is Brad taking it? I assume he knows?”

Jill nodded. “Surprisingly well. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say he was hoping this would happen.”

“See what I mean about presenting your intentions?” her grandpa interjected. “I’m guessing the boy got cold feet.”

“But I told you I—”

“Naturally, you turned to someone else. Brad wasn’t
all in,
and you could sense it, couldn’t you, dear?”

“You’re the sharpest tack in the box, Grandpa.”

“Well, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see it. You’re a wonderful catch, Jill. Talented, intelligent, beautiful. Not to mention very accomplished in your work. What man wouldn’t knock himself out trying to impress you?”

Jill could name a long list, but decided against it. “You’re being very sweet.”

“The truth is, if Hunter’s the better fit for you, then I’m glad you and Brad fell out. More than glad. I’m elated. Because, you know… I only want the best for my girl.” He met her eyes with a tender smile and Jill almost feared she’d cry again. Her grandpa was having such a good day, and there seemed to be fewer and fewer of those. She’d give anything if his mind was always this clear. She loved him so.

“So, what are you doing about the wedding?” he asked her. “Still planning on a big affair?”

“I… We’re not sure. This has all happened sort of suddenly.”

“Well, while you’re figuring it out, don’t waste time in my department. Bring that new man of yours around to see me posthaste.”

“But Grandpa—”

“No
but
s about it, sweetheart. I’m not inclined to see you go through the same heartbreak twice. If this Hunter Delaney is man enough to marry my granddaughter, then he’s man enough to come see me and ask for her hand.”

Chapter Seven

Hunter waited for Jill at a downtown coffee shop. It was pretty convenient, only a few blocks from where he worked. It was equally handy that he had Jill’s number. She’d apparently gotten his cell information from Brad. Now that she’d texted Hunter, he also had a way to reach her—something he decided was really necessary, since she was about to become his wife. Apparently, she’d mulled over his counteroffer and had come to her senses.
I’m ready to deal and sign
,
she’d said by text, meaning she was agreeing to make concessions. It would likely be a surprise to her that he was too.
 

Hunter couldn’t wait to see the expression on Jill’s face when he shared that he was willing to move to the country. She’d probably jump all over him with hugs and squeals. If he got lucky, she might even kiss him again. Right here, in this café… Bumping into their table with her shapely hips and upsetting their coffees as she sprang to her feet. She’d wrap him in her arms above their teetering cups, strawberry-red lips closing in. Hunter sighed deeply, absorbing the fantasy along with the aroma of freshly ground Guatemalan Breakfast Blend.

The truth was that he liked surprising women, in a good way. When he caught them off guard in an unhappy manner, things didn’t work out so well for him. Like that time he’d forgotten Sabrina had arranged for him to meet her parents for dinner. He’d been working overtime on a project and the occasion had entirely slipped his mind. She’d been so furious when he’d walked in the door, she’d thrown one of her high-heeled shoes at him.
 

Her parents apparently had held a table at a restaurant for an hour and fifteen minutes before finally giving up. Hunter had been unreachable because he’d neglected to charge his cell. He’d never let the darn thing go dead since. But that still didn’t save things with Sabrina, not that they’d merited saving anyway. If it hadn’t been for that dinner disaster, she would have discovered another reason to become annoyed with him. Most women eventually did, though Hunter couldn’t fathom why. At heart, he was a very nice guy. Just look at the extraordinary lengths he was going to out of compassion for his best friend, and to help Jill. Okay, yeah, so he was helping himself a tiny bit too.

The café door whooshed open, letting in a wave of summer heat. Though nothing was as hot as the woman walking toward him. Jill was astonishingly polished in a teal silk blouse and an ivory jacket. The matching white skirt hit a few inches above her knees, revealing the long, lovely legs he recalled from the tennis outfit. His eyes snagged on her three-inch heels and his heart beat double-time. Those appeared even more dangerous than the ones Sabrina used to wear. Thank goodness he wasn’t late.

“Have you ordered yet?” She spoke casually, like they were business acquaintances out for a coffee. Well, in a way, he supposed they were.
 

Hunter stood and pulled out her chair. “I was waiting on you.” She seemed a bit perplexed by the gesture, but sat anyway, smoothing her skirt over the tops of her legs.

“That was nice. You didn’t need to.”

“What can I get you?” he offered. “This one’s on me.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” She tugged a wallet from a purse that matched her outfit and shoes. Jill opened the billfold and pulled out some cash. “This one’s on
me,
” she said, handing it to him.

Hunter accepted the bills, noting her eyes on the large chalkboard behind the register that enumerated the café’s various offerings. Her hair fell just past her shoulders with a section on top pulled back in a barrette. “The Guatemalan Breakfast Blend’s pretty good, if you’re still deciding,” he offered.
 

She turned back to him with a smile, and his heart did that weird little two-step again. He’d thought before it was out of primal fear. Now he wasn’t sure what it was. Perhaps it was the pressure of the situation. A man didn’t sign a marriage contract every day. “I’ll take a double-whipped Jamaican latte,” she said. “That sounds really good.”

He nodded, then glanced at the cash in his hand. “Are you sure about this? I don’t mind paying.”

She alarmed him by stifling a giggle. “You really are old-fashioned, aren’t you?”

Hunter kind of resented that. Coming from her, it hadn’t sounded like a compliment. “I’m just trying to do the gentlemanly thing.”

“This isn’t a date, Hunter,” she reminded him.
 

“Never said that it was.”

“Then why were you trying to pay?”

“That’s what guys do.”

“Not when it’s not a date, they don’t.”

“Did you just use a double-negative on me?”

She cracked a grin. “Just go on and order the coffees, okay? I promise to let you pay next time.”
 

The shop was real art deco, with colorful modern art adorning the walls and small hand-blown glass lamps hanging from beams in the ceiling. In her upscale business attire, Jill seemed to fit right in. When Hunter had seen her at the club in tennis shorts and a ponytail, she’d appeared athletic and youthful. It was hard to imagine her being an international celebrity in that guise. But here, with this funky upbeat shop serving as a backdrop, Hunter could more easily envision Jill in a professional environment, lecturing at a podium or signing book copies.
 

She was poised and meticulously put together, like many of the women he worked with. Only Jill was one hundred and ten percent better-looking. No wonder he’d had a crush on her in high school. She outshone all the other girls then too. The thing was, all the other girls had wanted Hunter—and Jill hadn’t. My, how times had changed. Even if it was for outward appearances only, Hunter still took satisfaction in knowing Jill’s graduating class would see she’d wound up with him. Sure, she’d say that it was just pretend. But it wasn’t easy to forget the reality of that kiss. “Better hurry,” she whispered, motioning toward the counter with her chin. “A line is forming.”

Hunter went to place their orders and Jill watched him walk away, thinking what a fine form he cut in his suit. It was well tailored and the hang of it was just right. It looked expensive and European. Hunter was clearly used to having the best, just as he was accustomed to getting his way. She hoped Brad was right when he’d hinted Hunter might actually move into her place. She was willing to concede on the money if he would make that concession on living arrangements. She gulped in some air, recalling she also had to mention that minor detail concerning her grandfather. Though perhaps she shouldn’t worry. Wasn’t Hunter already proving himself a somewhat traditional guy? Buying her lunch, and now offering to pay for coffee? Asking for a girl’s hand in marriage couldn’t be that much more of a leap. The only things missing were dozens of dates, a bouquet of roses, and a real proposal.