Newlywed Games (36 page)

Bruce’s breath caught in his throat. Whoever this was, she was stunning. She inclined her head to those gathered before her, and the action held a strange familiarity. There was something in the way the woman held
herself, in her bearing, in the way she waved her hand.

He fell back into the waiting throne.
Meg?
Could it really be her? Or had she sent someone in her place? He dared not move, or the beauty of this mirage would vanish as surely as he lived and breathed.

As he and Meg had so carefully planned, the crowd stirred and every eye was locked on her as she entered the room. People parted a way for her as she reached them. Was it really her? There was no way to tell from this distance and she was wearing an iridescent mask.

“This is your cue,” someone whispered beside him.

“What?” He kept his eyes glued to the vision before him. Was it Meg? Had she come? Was there hope after all?

“You’re supposed to walk to her, like you’re surprised at her arrival.”

Right.
That would be easy enough. He
was
surprised. Stunned, in fact. He stood and strode with calculated calmness to where the vision stood poised, near the doorway. As he drew closer, the certainty within him grew.

It was Meg!

But why? They stood facing each other and murmurs rose from the crowd. The band flowed into a familiar waltz. After she curtsied and he bowed, he held out his hand to her. She placed her palm in his, and he wondered at the perfect fit. Slowly, he escorted her to the middle of the floor.

She moved into his arms, fitting in them as though she’d been made to do so. He gazed down at her, drank in the sight of her eyes, the emotions he saw there.
Wordlessly, still scarcely able to believe she was here, he moved his feet, and they began waltzing around the room. At first the only sound in the room was the music, the rustle of Meg’s dress—and the pounding of Bruce’s heart. Then, slowly, others joined them in the dance.

He dared not speak lest the spell they had created would float away on the music.

After another dance, he escorted her off the floor, her hand still nestled in his. When they were apart from the crowd, he looked down at her. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t expect it.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint everyone. A lot of people put a great deal of time and energy into making this night a success.” Her voice was flat and passionless.

He couldn’t help the stabbing disappointment that she had only come out of obligation. “I appreciate your sense of duty.” He guided her near the red velvet throne to the elderly couple seated holding hands like a pair of schoolchildren. “May I introduce Cora and Bennet Jones. This is Meghann Livingston, the person responsible for all of this splendor.” He motioned toward the room.

“I am so happy to finally meet you.” The spark of energy was back as she spoke with their honored guests.

“This is all so beautiful,” Cora said. “It’s taken us back fifty years. It’s almost exactly the way it was then.”

“We feel like kids again.” Bennet raised Cora’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “I don’t know why you chose us out of all the couples that were here that night, but we thank you for recreating one of the happiest nights of our lives.”

It was all Bruce could do to not turn and walk away in defeat. Too bad he and Meghann wouldn’t have any happy memories of this night as well.

Meghann wandered around the ballroom barely aware of the beautiful decorations and cheerful voices. This was supposed to be a night of dreams and fairy tales…and love. Instead, it was one agonizing moment after another, dragging on and on. The night she looked forward to for months, she now wished would just end.

In a moment of weakness she had let her mom and Brock persuade her into coming. It was hard being here, painful, in fact, but she knew it was the right decision. She had a responsibility, and she would play her role to the bitter end of the evening.

She looked to Cora and Bennet, longing for the lifetime of love they shared. The elderly couple didn’t dance much thanks to arthritis and a bad hip, but they seemed to be the happiest couple in the room. Their faces glowed with the love they shared.

Meghann, on the other hand, had a steady stream of dance partners: Brock heading the list.

“You did an excellent job pulling this all together,” he said, twirling her around the dance floor.

She smiled. “Thank you, but I didn’t exactly do it all by myself.”

“You and Bruce make a good team. I look forward to your next endeavor.”

“I’m afraid you will be disappointed. There won’t be a next endeavor. Our collaboration was short lived.”

“That’s too bad; you two make a wonderful couple.”

Meg held back a frustrated sigh. Brock was forever putting in a good word for his brother, and it was getting tiresome. She didn’t want to think about what could have been with Bruce. She wanted to salvage what she could of this evening and didn’t want to spoil it with could-have-beens. Bruce had had plenty of opportunity to explain himself, but he chose not to.

“You’ve occupied her long enough.” Meg turned in surprise to look at Ivan, but before she could refuse, she had changed partners.

She didn’t really want to dance with Ivan Halloway and couldn’t imagine why he should want to dance with her. As with everything else, he was accomplished and skilled, making him a smooth and elegant dancer.

Meg only hoped she didn’t embarrass herself by stomping on his million-dollar toes.

“Do you think that your showing up here will somehow win you favor with my son?” His belittling tone rankled her. “Do you think he is going to beg you to come back? He has never begged for anything in his life.”

She stopped cold and brought herself up to her full height. “I came because I have a job and responsibility, nothing more.” Not caring who was staring at them, she turned and walked away from him. She’d told the truth. She was there because of her job, and for that boorish lout to think otherwise was ludicrous.

An immovable force suddenly stopped her progress. Bruce slid his arms around her, moving her back into a dance. The glare he shot his father’s way
gave her the chills. Or was it being in his arms again that made her shiver?

“Are you cold?”

“No.” In fact, she was suddenly quite warm, as though she’d stepped out into a hot August day. His eyes held hers and she was unable to pull away from his intense gaze.

Her mind swarmed with memories like a tornado going round and round and round. She could hear his declaration floating around in her head, “I’m a new creation.”

She thought of the cross he’d given her, which was even now safely tucked in her glove, like she used to do with her milk money on cold school days…she remembered the flowers he’d brought her with an endearing smile.

His smile, just the thought of it made her heart beat faster.

“I am a new creation.”

And then her own words drifted through her mind:
“I chose to trust you.”
But did she, did she really?

“I am a new creation.”

Dazed by his nearness, her thoughts jumped about and her emotions collided with one another. All her senses seemed to be on alert. Being so close to him was suddenly overwhelming, and she tried to pull out of his grasp, but he held on tightly to her.

“We’ll finish this dance, Meghann. Besides, it’s a little too early for Cinderella to be running out on me.”

His cool words—and his firm grip—left no room for argument.

“Do you think it’s working?” Olivia peered around Gayle Livingston.

Gayle shook her head. “I don’t see how, when they insist on being on opposite sides of the room.”

Olivia saw what Gayle meant. Meg was dancing with a tall, slim man; Bruce was sitting on his red throne sulking.

“I’ll just have to put a stop to that.” Olivia marched over to Bruce and soon he was escorting her to the dance floor. Her plan was obvious, even to Meg, who excused herself from her dance partner before Olivia could trade partners with her.

Olivia watched the object of her son’s affections sweep away and smiled.
Point for you this time, Meghann, dear. But the evening is far from over.

And their plan was far from over, as well.

Meg was avoiding him. Bruce was sure of it, and that fact told him all he needed to know; she’d been telling the truth. She hadn’t come for him at all, but out of a sense of duty alone.

Lord, help me know what to do now.

As though in answer to his prayer, the last waltz of the evening began to filter through the room. He jumped on the opportunity, moving to Meg’s side.

“This is our dance, sweetheart,” he said, capturing her arm and leading her to the floor. He held her arm firmly to keep her from escaping. “And it’s no doubt my last chance to explain myself to you.” Like everyone else, he and Meghann had removed their masks during
the evening, so now he could see her whole beautiful, sorrow-filled face without any obstructions.

He had put it off until now for fear of sending her fleeing, but to his surprise she didn’t try to get away or object. She simply looked up at him, as though waiting to hear what he had to say.

She’s ready to listen!

His heart all but sang the realization, until another voice threw the cold water of reason on his hope:
Either that, or she’s reconciled to having little choice in the matter.

He drew a steadying breath. Whatever the case, she was here, looking up at him. The time had come.

Meghann waited, praying she would be able to bear what Bruce had to say. The hurt she’d felt that day when she saw him holding Charmaine had been so deep. What if Bruce was prepared to tell her he and Charmaine were back together, or that he still cared for her…?

Give me strength, Lord.

Bruce’s voice was low as he began to speak. “Charmaine came to my office with the news that she knew that we weren’t really married.”

So she was blackmailing him into getting back together with her? He could have told her no. Take a hike. Get lost.

“I told her she was mistaken and to go back and check her facts. I told her what we’d shared was long ago, that it was over, never to be resurrected. That I wasn’t the same man. Apparently she felt she could prove
me wrong by—” Meg watched in surprise as faint pink tinged his face. He cleared his throat. “She felt she could get a response from me by embracing me. I started to push her away—”

And well you should have!

“Then I realized the only way to get it through to her that she didn’t appeal to me any longer was to let her pull her stunt and see that it didn’t work. I figured even Charmaine wouldn’t be inclined to pursue a man who reacted to her embrace with as much enthusiasm as a dead fish.”

He smiled slightly. “So that’s what I did. I didn’t hold her. Didn’t put my arms around her. In fact, I had my hands in my pockets, telling her I didn’t have time for or interest in her games when you came to the door. After you left, I told her in no uncertain terms that if she bothered either of us again, I would have her brought up on harassment charges.”

“She was here tonight,” she said softly. She was sure he didn’t think she knew about that since it happened before she came. Soon after a woman matching Charmaine’s description had arrived, several people had seen them go off…together! Would he admit it?

He took a slow, controlling breath. “I told her she had better leave of her own accord unless she wanted a police escort out of the building. And she did leave, hopefully for good.”

His gaze roamed her face, and when their eyes met, Meg saw only sincerity there.

“That’s it, Meg. The gospel truth. I’d swear to it on a Bible if you wanted me to, but bottom line, you’re just
going to have to decide whether or not you believe me. And we’re going to have to decide whether or not we can trust each other. I hope we can.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but just then the dance ended. As the music faded, Bruce squeezed her hand and moved to make his closing comments to the crowd.

When he finished, he came to escort Meghann from the ballroom to rousing applause. When they were in the hallway, away from the crowd, she turned to him.

“Bruce—”

But he stopped her. “I’m sorry. I have to go someplace right now.” With that, he turned and hurried away. She stood there, staring after him, speechless, then took a step to follow him.

“Miss Livingston?” She halted and turned. A fellow employee stood there, his expression beseeching. “We could use your help here, if you don’t mind. We’re not sure where things are supposed to go…”

With a sigh, Meg followed the man back into the emptying ballroom. For the next hour, she supervised cleanup duties and handled minor catastrophes.

Bruce’s long strides couldn’t get him out fast enough. He pushed open one of the side doors and drank in a long cool breath of fresh air. She didn’t trust him. She just plain didn’t trust him. It was on her face and in her question about Charmaine’s presence earlier this evening. Not that he could blame Meghann. He was no saint, and even though he counseled himself against it,
his hopes had soared with her being here tonight. Logic told him to give up, it was a lost cause, but everything else in him cried out to never let go.

He knew she was reluctant to dance with him, but holding her felt so right. No other woman could ever fill the place in his arms meant for her.

Even as the anguish rode through him, he was devising a plan to win Meghann back. It would start with prayer and end with a proposal. He would marry Meghann or no one, and he had no intention of remaining a bachelor the rest of his life.

Meghann watched the staff and cleanup crew dragging around the room with service carts and garbage bags picking up the debris left behind. Most of the ball guests had left, except a few who were also guests of the hotel. Her mother had gone home early because she was tired. She’d promised to send the limo back for Meg, but a quick survey of the parking lot told her that her mother had forgotten.

Maybe Brock was still around and wouldn’t mind giving her a lift home, but a search of the ballroom, banquet hall, and the other rooms on the lower level offered her no possibility for a ride. Well then, perhaps Brock had gone to Bruce’s office.