Read The Tycoon's Bought Fiancée Online
Authors: Sandra Marton
The Tycoon's Bought Fiancée (3 page)
But laughing wouldn't help. Not now. Not after her gaze fell on the white vellum card he dropped on the table beside her.
Stephanie looked up.
“Uncle David?” she said in a choked whisper.
She remembered the way he'd looked at her the first time they'd seen each other. The smoldering glance, the lazy insolence of his smile⦠There was nothing of that about his expression now. His eyes were steely; the set of his mouth gave his face a harsh cast.
“And the widow Willingham.” A thin smile curved across his mouth as he drew Stephanie's chair out from the table. “It's going to be one hell of a charming afternoon.”
CHAPTER TWO
S
TEPHANIE sat down.
TEPHANIE sat down.
What else could she do? Everyone at the table was watching them, eyes bright with curiosity.
David Chambers sat down beside her. His leg brushed hers as he tucked his feet under the table. Surreptitiously, she moved her chair as far from his as she could.
He leaned toward her. “I carry no communicable diseases, Mrs. Willingham,” he said dryly. “And I don't bite unless provoked.”
She felt her face turn hot. His voice had been lowpitched; no one else could have heard what he'd said, but they'd wanted toâshe could see it in the way they leaned forward over the table.
Say something, Stephanie told herself. Anything.
She couldn't. Her tongue felt as if it were stuck to the roof of her mouth. She cleared her throat, moistened her lipsâ¦and, mercifully, an electronic squeal from the bandstand microphone overrode all conversation in the ballroom.
The guests at table seven laughed a bit nervously.
“Those guys could use a good sound engineer,” the man with the glasses said. He grinned, rose and extended his hand toward David. “Too bad that's not my speciality. Hi, nice to meet you guys. I'm Jeff Blum. And this is my wife, Roberta.”
“Call me Bobbi,” the plump brunette chirped, batting her lashes at David.
The other couple introduced themselves next. They looked as if they'd both been hewn out of New England granite, and had the sort of names David always irreverently thought of as Puritan holdovers.
“Hayden Crowder,” the man said, extending a dry, cool hand.
“And I'm Honoria,” his wife said, smiling. “And you folks are?”
“David Chambers,” David said when Stephanie remained silent. He looked at her, and the grim set of his mouth softened. Okay. Maybe he was overreacting to what had happened when he'd first seen her, and to her reaction to it.
Actually, when you came down to it,
nothing
had happenedânothing that was her fault, or his. A man looked at a woman, sometimes the moment or the chemistry was just right, and that was thatâalthough now that he was seated next to the widow Willingham, he thought wryly, he couldn't for the life of him imagine why his hormones had gone crazy back in that church. She was a looker, but so were half a dozen other women in the room. It was time to stop being an ass, remember his manners and get through the next few hours with something approaching civility.
nothing
had happenedânothing that was her fault, or his. A man looked at a woman, sometimes the moment or the chemistry was just right, and that was thatâalthough now that he was seated next to the widow Willingham, he thought wryly, he couldn't for the life of him imagine why his hormones had gone crazy back in that church. She was a looker, but so were half a dozen other women in the room. It was time to stop being an ass, remember his manners and get through the next few hours with something approaching civility.
“And the lady with me,” he said pleasantly, “isâ”
“Stephanie Willingham. Mrs. Avery Willingham,” Stephanie blurted. “And I can assure all of you that I am not here with Mr. Chambers, nor would I ever choose to be.”
Bobbi Blum looked at her husband. Hayden Crowder looked at his wife. All four of them looked at Stephanie, who was trying not to look at any of them.
Ohmygod!
What on earth had possessed her? It was such an incredibly stupid thing to have said, especially after the man seated beside her had made an attempt, however late and unwanted, at showing he had, at least, some semblance of good manners.
“Do tell,” Bobbi Blum said with a bright smile. She sat back as the waiter set glasses of champagne before them. “Well, that's certainly very, ah, interesting.”
Honoria Crowder shot a brilliant smile across the table. “Champagne,” she said briskly. “Isn't that nice? I always say champagne's the only thing to serve at weddings, isn't that right, Hayden?”
Hayden Crowder swallowed hard. Stephanie could see his Adam's apple bob up and down in his long, skinny neck.
“Indeed you do, my dear.”
“Oh, I agree.” Jeff Blum, eager to do his part, nodded vigorously. “Don't I always say that, too, Bobbi?”
Bobbi Blum turned a perplexed smile on her husband. “Don't you always say what, dear?”
“That champagne isâthat it's whatever Mrs. Crowder just said it was.”
“Do call me Honoria,” Honoria said.
Silence settled over the table again.
Stephanie's hands were knotted together in her lap. Everyone had said something in an attempt to ease the tensionâeveryone but David Chambers.
He was looking at her. She could feel the weight of his gaze. Why didn't he say something? Why didn't
she
say something? A witty remark, to take the edge off. A clever one, to turn her awful words into a joke.
she
say something? A witty remark, to take the edge off. A clever one, to turn her awful words into a joke.
When was the band going to start playing?
As if on cue, the trumpet player rose to his feet and sent a shattering tattoo of sound out into the room.
“And now,” the bandleader said, “let's give a warm welcome to Dawn and Nicholas!”
The Crowders, then the Blums, looked toward the dance floor as the introductions rolled on. Stephanie breathed a small sigh of relief. Perhaps David Chambers's attention was on the newlyweds, too. Her hand closed around her small, apricot-silk purse. Carefully, she moved back her chair. Now might be the perfect time to make another strategic retreat to the ladies' roomâ¦
“Leaving so soon, Mrs. Willingham?”
Stephanie froze. Then, with as much hauteur as she could manage, she turned her head toward David Chambers. His expression was polite and courteous; she was sure he looked the picture of civilityâunless you were sitting as close to him as she was, and you could see the ridicule in his eyes.
Okay. It was time to take a bite, however small, of humble pie.
“Mr. Chambers.” She cleared her throat. “Mr. Chambers, I supposeâwhat I said beforeâI didn't mean⦔
He smiled coolly and bent toward her, his eyes on hers.
“An apology?”
“An explanation.” Stephanie sat up straight. “I was rude, and I didn't intend to be.”
“Ah. What did you intend to be, then?” His smile tilted and he moved closer, near enough to make her heartbeat quicken. For one foolish instant, she'd thought he was going to kiss her.
“I simply meant to make it clear that you and I were not together.”
“You certainly did that.”
“I'm sure Annie meant well, when she seated us this way, butâ”
“Annie?”
“Annie Cooper. Surely, you knowâ”
“You were seated on the groom's side.”
“I know both the bride and the groom, Mr. Chambers.”
“But you're Annie's guest.”
“I can't see of what possible interest it could be to you, sir.”
Neither could Davidâexcept that it had occurred to him. as he'd gone down the receiving line, that word had it that the groom's uncle, Damian Skouras, had a mistress in attendance at the wedding. Perhaps Stephanie Willingham was she. Or perhaps she was a former mistress. Or a future one. It was a crazy world out there; there was no telling what complications you got into when you drew up guest lists. He'd avoided the problem, his one time in the matrimonial sweepstakes. You didn't draw up a guest list when you said “I do” at city hall.
“Humor me, Mrs. Willingham,” David said with a chilly smile. “Why did you choose to sit on the groom's side?”
“What do you do for a living, Mr. Chambers?”
“I don't see what that has to do with my question.”
“Suppose you humor
me
, and answer it.”
me
, and answer it.”
David's frown deepened. “I'm an attorney.”
“Ah. Well, I suppose that explains it.”
“Explains what?” David said, his eyes narrowing.
“Your tendency to interrogate.”
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Willingham. I did notâ”
“I must admit, I find it preferable to your tendency to strip a woman naked with your eyes.”
The band segued from a bouncy rendition of “My Girl” to a soft, sighing “Stardust.” Stephanie's words rose clearly over the plaintive opening notes.
A strangled gasp burst from Honoria Crowder's lips. Her champagne glass tipped over and a puddle of pale golden wine spread across the white tablecloth.
“Oh, my,” Honoria twittered, “how clumsy of me!”
Bobbi Blum snatched at a napkin. “Here,” she said, “let me get that.”
Saved by the spill, Stephanie thought hysterically. She smiled blindly at the waiter as he served their first course. The Crowders and the Blums grabbed their oyster forks and attacked their shrimp cocktails with a fervor she suspected was born of the desire to leap to their feet and run from what was turning into the kind of encounter that ends with one of the parties bleeding.
If you had any brains, Stephanie told herself, you'd do the sameâ¦
Instead, she picked up her fork and began to stuff food into her mouth because if she was chewing and swallowing, maybeâjust maybeâshe'd stop saying things that only made this impossible mess messier.
“I don't.”
Stephanie's head snapped up. She looked at David, and the smug little smile on his face sent a chill straight into the marrow of her bones.
“Don't what?” Bobbi Blum said, and everyone leaned forward in eager anticipation.
“Don't have a tendency to strip women naked with my eyes.” His smile tilted, and his gaze swept over Stephanie again, sending a flood of color to her cheeks. “Not indiscriminately, that is. I only focus that sort of attention on beautiful women who look to be in desperate need ofâ”
Music blared from the bandstand.
Forks clattered to the table.
The Crowders and the Blums pushed back their chairs and rushed to the dance floor.
Stephanie sat very still, though she could damn near feel the blood churning in her veins. She thought about slugging the man beside her, but that wouldn't be fair to Annie, or Dawn, or Nicholas. Besides, ladies didn't do such things. The womanâthe girlâshe'd once been might have. Would have. Steffie Horton would have balled up her fist and shot a right cross straight to David Chambers's square jaw.
A tremor went through her. Steffie Horton would have done exactly what Stephanie Willingham had been doing all afternoon. She'd have been rude, and impolite; she'd have spoken her mind without thinking. She might even have reacted to the heat in a stranger's eyes. It was in her genes, after all. Avery had been wrong about a lot of things, but not about that.
What was wrong with her today? She was behaving badly. And even when David Chambers had held out an olive branchâa ragged one, it was true, but an olive branch neverthelessâshe'd slapped it out of his hand.
Stephanie took a deep breath and turned toward him.
“Mr. Chambers⦔
Her words caught in her throat. He was smiling⦠no, he wasn't. Not really. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a way that reminded her of a mastiff Avery had owned when she'd first married him and gone to live in the house on Oak Hillâwhen she'd still been young enough, stupid enough, to have thought their arrangement could work.
“Oh,” she'd said, “just look at your dog, Avery. He's smiling at me.”
And Avery had guffawed and slapped his knees and said that he'd truly picked himself a backwoods ninny if she thought that was a smile, and maybe she'd like to offer the mastiff her hand and see if it came back with all the fingers still attached.
“Yes?” David said politely. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”
“No,” Stephanie said just as politely. “Not a thing.”
He nodded. “That's fine. I think I've just about run out of conversation, myselfâexcept to point out that, with any luck at all, we'll never have the misfortune to meet again.” His wolfish smile flickered. “Have I left anything out?”
“Not a thing. In fact, I doubt I could have put it better.”
David unfolded his napkin and placed it in his lap. Stephanie did the same.
“Bon appétit,
Mrs. Willingham,” David said softly.
Mrs. Willingham,” David said softly.
“Bon appétit,
Mr. Chambers,” Stephanie replied, and she picked up her fork, speared a shrimp, and began to eat.
Mr. Chambers,” Stephanie replied, and she picked up her fork, speared a shrimp, and began to eat.
* * *
More toasts were drunk, the wedding cake sliced. The Blums and the Crowders continued to make themselves scarce, appearing only from time to time and then just long enough to gobble down a few mouthfuls of each course as it was served.
“We just adore dancing,” Bobbi Blum gushed between the
Boeuf aux Champignons
and the salad.
Boeuf aux Champignons
and the salad.
“Same with us,” Hayden Crowder said as his wife sat smiling uneasily beside him. “Why, we never sit very long at these shindigs, no matter who's seated at our table, do we, honey?”
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