The Bride's Curse (13 page)

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Authors: Glenys O'Connell

BOOK: The Bride's Curse
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Kelly covered her ears, not wanting to hear what Noelia needed. She’d heard enough. Obviously the old adage that still waters run deep had a lot of truth to it. Noelia, her sweet, competent assistant, middle-aged widow, mother of three, a member of the Marina Grove Book Club, and an active churchwoman, was enjoying red-hot afternoon sex!

A blush flamed across Kelly’s cheeks. Darn it, she was jealous. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d enjoyed mediocre sex, let alone the hot kind that Noelia was obviously enjoying. Depression swamped her as she realized that the last bedtime frolics she had had were with Wayne, the fiancé who’d dumped her five years ago. And that had been mediocre sex, too, compared to the erotic sounds coming through that partially open upper window.

Still backing away from the house and hoping not to be noticed, Kelly didn’t realize she’d gone off the path until she sprawled backwards over a large granite boulder with the words “You’re Welcome—Come Right In!” painted in colorful letters on the side. She grabbed at a three-foot tall metal windmill to try to halt her fall, pulling the garden ornament out of the ground so that it clattered onto the boulder with enough noise to alert the whole neighborhood. Certainly enough noise to distract even the hottest lovers. Kelly winced and wished the ground would open up and swallow her as the window on the upper floor was pushed all the way open and Noelia called: “Kelly? Is that you? What are you doing lying in my hostas?”

Before Kelly had a chance to think up a suitable answer, the window had slammed shut and within moments Noelia was standing over her. Her expression was worried as she held out her hand to help Kelly back to her feet. “Whatever happened? I thought that boulder was safe enough, being far from the path and everything … ”

“I was, er, just passing and I thought I’d call in and say hello…. ” By some minor miracle, the bottle of wine had survived the tumble and Kelly raised it as if it would confirm her words.

Noelia’s eyebrows went up as she glanced at the bottle. “Have you been drinking one of that bottle’s companions? Is that why you fell over? Are you drunk?”

Kelly certainly wished she was. “I can hear, er, see that you’re busy. Maybe we can talk later … ”

“Not at all—whatever gave you the idea I’m busy? Come on inside.”

“But I heard you … you and your visitor … ” Now she was beginning to feel foolish. Just what was the etiquette to follow when you had unwittingly barged in on a friend in
flagrante delicto?
Suddenly she noticed that Noelia was fully and neatly dressed. How had she managed that and to run outside in just a few seconds? A strange idea was beginning to take shape inside her head.

“You must be mistaken.” Noelia sounded strained. “Maybe you heard the radio program I was listening to … ”

The bright pink flush that had spread up from Noelia’s neck to paint her cheeks was a real giveaway. “Oh, no, that certainly wasn’t a radio program. It was a really hot love scene. And you’re alone … ”

A visual memory of herself opening a box and taking out copies of spicy romance novels by a Mimi L’Amour, Marina Cove’s reclusive writer of sexy romances …

A customer had come into the store as they were unpacking, and she had immediately bought the two most recent books. Kelly had joked that they should try to reveal the identity of the mysterious author and ask if she’d do a book signing …

… and Noelia had been adamant that such an event simply wouldn’t be suitable in Wedding Bliss …

“It’s you, isn’t it? I’ve walked in on the creation of the latest novel. Oh, my god, you’re Mimi L’Amour!”

“Shhh! Someone might hear you.” Noelia had blushed a scarlet, befitting the pen name. She put her arm around Kelly’s shoulder and almost dragged her into the house. She pushed Kelly into one of the big, comfortable wing chairs in front of the window.

“You have it all wrong. If you must know, I’ve been doing some part-time work. Apparently I have a great voice, and I get lots of work from a company that produces audio books. That’s why I was ... you know, with Mimi L’Amour’s … And don’t you dare laugh. It’s darned hard, talking dirty out loud into a microphone, even if you’re alone.”

With a last baleful glare, Noelia Russo snatched the wine bottle and rushed off into her kitchen, her cheeks bright pink, leaving behind a completely incredulous Kelly.

She returned moments later with two filled wine glasses and a plate of the chocolate digestive cookies she was addicted to.

“I think I need a drink as badly as you do,” she said, taking the wing chair opposite Kelly and handing her one of the glasses.

“You know that my husband, Andre, was killed in a fishing boat accident. The insurance money I got from his death ran out fast, what with three kids in school, a mortgage, and all the other bills. I did all sorts of jobs. There was a period when I was working at a convenience store, waitressing at a café, and cleaning offices, all at the same time. But it never seemed enough, and I was so darned tired all the time. I remember thinking that, for all the time I spent with them, my kids might as well have lost both parents.”

Tears clouded Noelia’s eyes as she spoke. Kelly leaned forward to top up both their wine glasses while she waited for the other woman to continue her tale.

“Oh, and I did a lot of crying, too—grieving and self-pity. But one day I woke up and said, ‘God, if I’m going to survive this, I need something more.’ I was pretty peeved at God at the time and didn’t expect any kind of God Breeze to help me out. But I got one. On my way home from my afternoon waitressing job the next day, I passed this bookstore and thought, well, I can go in and pretend to be a customer, sit in one of those nice comfy chairs, and just … just be. So I did, but I can’t say that I felt any better. There was a woman doing a book signing, and I watched her for a while. She greeted customers, spoke to everyone she could buttonhole, and signed quite a few books.

“My feet hurt so much, but I didn’t actually want to go home. I was putting off the moment when I’d have to tell the two boys that I couldn’t enroll them in hockey that year. No money.” Noelia took a deep draught of her wine, her eyes seemingly focused on some far away memory.

“Anyway, there was a quiet time and I got talking to this writer. She was a single mom with two children, so we had a lot in common. She said I had the sexiest voice she’d ever heard, and asked had I ever considered doing audiobooks?” Her face took on a dreamy expression. “My Andre used to say he could listen to my voice forever. It was so seductive, he used to say … ”

Too much information. Kelly wasn’t sure she believed the story or not but had to admit that Noelia had a deep, rolling, voice that men would find indeed sexy.

Noelia said she’d always liked history and had taken her degree in nineteenth-century studies. The author she met had told her how difficult it was to get someone with just the right voice, someone who understood the romance of history, to read aloud her historical novels. “She offered to put a word in for me with the company who produced her audiobooks and said I could probably make some decent money if I was willing to put in the work.

“Well, I applied, got the job, and that’s the reason you heard what you did this afternoon.” Noelia’s voice was firm, but Kelly was still suspicious.

“Are you sure you’re not really Mimi? Honest, I won’t tell anyone.”

Noelia snorted. “Of course I’m not! Do I look like someone who would write sizzling, sexy books?”

Kelly’s eyes narrowed. Certainly plump and matronly Noelia didn’t look like a sexy author, but the words she’d heard from the window while she was in the garden … She was right to be skeptical. The identity of the famous writer was a mystery and a major topic of conversation in Marina Grove. There would be a real triumph for the person who could reveal her true identity. Kelly shook herself. It was Noelia’s secret, whatever the truth was, and she was entitled to her privacy.

But still … Noelia as Mimi L’Amour?
No wonder she was able to sell so many sets of sexy honeymoon wear. Kelly caught her assistant’s eye. Noelia looked back, unflinching, the picture of innocence. She sighed. Maybe she would never know the truth.

Noelia broke the silence. “So, spill. I’ve told you my secret, now you have to tell me yours in exchange.”

“What makes you think I have a secret?” Kelly kept her voice light.

Noelia raised her fist and lifted a finger at each point. “Hmmm, now, let’s see. Acting funny, jumping at shadows, talking to invisible old men on street benches, collapsing at the feet of hot hunks? No, wait, the last item isn’t strange at all. I bet a lot of girls would like to throw themselves at the feet of that hunky Brett.”

“I did not throw—” Kelly blushed when she saw Noelia’s mischievous smile. “Okay, I do like Brett. In fact, I really, really like him. But somehow we’re not connecting. I think it’s maybe because … ”

And she went on to tell Noelia all about her secret. About her head injury, about seeing people who weren’t there and how the doctors had written that off as hallucinations and told her they would go away in time. About realizing that she really was seeing restless spirits, had actually talked to some of them. And finally, about the old man on the bench and her suspicions that somehow his appearance was connected to that cursed wedding gown.

And how all of this meant she couldn’t let a relationship with Brett develop.

“He’ll think I’m a candidate for the psych ward,” she murmured.

“If you were a total geeky genius, or if you had two left feet or some other oddity, he’d accept it as part of you, right? In the case of the genius part, he’d probably be proud of it. If he wasn’t, then he wouldn’t be worth wasting time over. The same goes for this. Whether you’re talking to dead people—and as my Grannie used to say, there are more things in heaven and earth than this world dreams of—if you are talking to ghosts, then he should accept that as part of you, too. If he can’t accept the whole package, then you’re better off walking away.”

Kelly sighed. “Where did you learn so much?”

“The School of Hard Knocks, honey. Will you tell him?”

Kelly sank her teeth into her upper lip. “I can’t, not yet. Maybe never.”

Chapter Eleven

Brett yawned and checked his watch again. It was awful. Way beyond awful, sitting in his car, waiting outside Kelly’s edge-of-town home for her to return. Hard as it was to apologize, it was even harder to imagine a life without Kelly. How had she got under his skin in so short a time? He sighed. He wasn’t a man used to sitting and waiting, although his job as an engineer and negotiator with the non-profit charity often demanded patience and diplomacy, which strained his need for action. But this was different—this was waiting for a woman he’d treated badly and left upset and alone.

He’d been forced to explain about how the wedding dress had come to be in Kelly’s possession, and his aunt had taken the news of Sasha’s little auction very well. She’d declared that she would believe anything that stupid girl did, and then she grilled him about Kelly. He’d tried to keep a disinterested tone to his voice but he could tell by Mary’s secret little smile that she knew Kelly was more than just a businessperson he was dealing with.
Too smart for her own good, that aunt of mine!

As the hours passed as he waited outside Kelly’s cottage, his imagination pricked him with all kinds of terrible scenarios after the way they’d parted company at the Holywell Home, with her close to tears and him so angry. What if she’d been so upset that she’d crashed her car on the lonely coast road? A hundred dreadful scenarios flitted through his mind even as he told himself that a woman who could face down the Taliban wasn’t going to be thrown into emotional turmoil by anger or a kiss.

Those kisses! The first one in her store, and then oh, my! That kiss on the cruiser … He could feel it even now, the sweetness of her in his mouth, the heat that had spread throughout his body … He slammed a fist on the steering wheel.
What a mess!
No doubt about it, he’d overreacted when she’d shown up at the Holywell Home. His aunt Mary had been surprised at his virtually dragging Kelly out of the room.

“That was so impolite, young man,” she’d declared when he returned. “You were brought up better than that. And she seemed a nice young woman, even if a little mixed up.”

“Kelly Andrews bought your wedding gown at an auction and she says she won’t give it back.”

“Umph.” Mary sniffed in disgust. “We’ll see about that.”

Brett paced around the nursing home room. “Really, Auntie, I want you to stay away from her. You need to look after your health and get your strength back. Kelly has some strange ideas … ”

Mary scowled at him. “What kind of strange ideas? Does she howl at the full moon or refuse to eat meat or dairy products?”

“Not eating meat isn’t a strange idea.” He hardly thought someone who believed she was a witch could judge anyone else’s ideas “strange.”

“If you say so, dear.” Mary smiled. She was teasing him, and he fell for it every time.

“If you must know, Auntie, Kelly believes your wedding dress is cursed.” He thought that would make Mary see reason about wanting to meet with Kelly again. Instead the older woman started to laugh. She was still laughing, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, as Brett said goodbye, promising to pick her up late tomorrow afternoon, and escaped from her room.

His aunt had to be the most exasperating woman on the face of the planet.

And Kelly Andrews was probably a close second for that title.

Yes, he really needed to understand that Aunt Mary wasn’t the fragile flower that everyone thought she was. Just because she’d been jilted nearly fifty years ago and had what his grandparents claimed was a nervous breakdown, that didn’t mean she couldn’t cope with life now.

Or with a visit from one of the cutest redheads he’d ever had the pleasure of kissing.

He had to find Kelly and put things right with her.

He tried her cell number again, and again there was no answer. He was worried enough, guilty enough, that he’d stopped in at the store earlier, in the forlorn hope that she was maybe working off some emotions by checking inventory or some such drudgery. The place was in darkness although the sexy wedding night lingerie displayed in the window mocked him.

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