Whirlwind (3 page)

Another perfectly matched couple, Chase and Linda had been together since before I met them. Judging by his grin, whatever he was hiding was going to make Linda one happy woman.

I smoothed the shoulders of his jacket. “When will you break the news to her?” Linda’s sources were better than mine; he wouldn’t be able to keep her in the dark very long.

“Soon.” He winked, but wouldn’t explain further. “I should probably help with the seating. May I escort you to the front door, Miss?” he drawled.

With a silent
for Mitch
, I took his arm and we climbed the stairs. Finding it easier to smile, I asked, “How’s the groom holding up?”

The answer caught me off guard: Chase laughed. Not a chuckle, but a full, deep belly laugh. “He threw up once this morning—cereal, I think. At least he missed his shoes.” We rounded the corner of the building, and he thumbed at the people crowded around the front door. “I wonder if they know what kind of
wuss
he is!”

His humor lifted my spirits a bit. “Should we tell them about his women’s underwear fetish?”

“I’m saving that for the toast,” Chase stage-whispered.

Still laughing, he left me in the entryway and headed for the front of the crowd. I waited my turn in the back. Where was Beth?

With a wistful sigh, I checked out the group of ushers at the door. Maybe I should’ve taken her up on her offer to introduce me—would it be so bad to have someone to talk to?

I’d worried that seeing so many men dressed in black would bring back unpleasant memories of my last trip to church, but instead I found myself drooling over the group like the rest of the women around me.

Chase looked great, but he was only one of an entire herd of
GQ
-worthy, immaculate men—a stunning sight in their matching tuxedos. One of the guys I recognized as Mitch’s classmate, and a couple more were from the rodeo team, though I’d never seen them this clean before. The rest were anonymously good looking. They whispered to each other, playing with their ties or cuff links while they waited for their turn to show someone to their seat.

It was my first and only high school dance all over again.

Chase caught my eye and pointed to his neat bowtie before he questioned the guests in line ahead of me. I gave him a thumbs up, happy I could contribute something to Mitch’s big day. I stepped forward, expecting the I-got-stuck-with-
her
look from the next piece of eye candy.

A tall, lean stranger approached, stealing my breath.

He didn’t look directly at me at first, so he missed my
Exorcist
-like double take. I had two heartbeats to collect myself—and to shut my gaping mouth. The guy I’d seen with Chase earlier moved toward me so smoothly he seemed to skate across the carpet.

I recognized his movie-star hair immediately, the molten-chocolate waves just touching his collar, divided by a soft part just right of center. My previous assumption had been correct; he was exceedingly handsome. I drank in his flawless face, tracing his bold cheekbones and square, strong chin with my eyes, trying to find a suitable description for what I was witnessing. The word that came to mind wasn’t
stunning
or
exquisite
, though both were appropriate; it was
familiar
. This animated
David
reminded me of someone. Before I could put a name to his doppelganger, he turned to look at me, and all thought vanished. His eyes were the brightest blue I’d ever seen, and when our gaze met, time stopped.

They say that in the moments before death it’s common to experience a lifetime’s worth of memories. As I drowned in the
sapphirine
depths of his eyes, what I saw wasn’t the past, but the future. My vision blurred. In my imagination, his vibrant blue eyes appeared inches from mine, and his arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly against his perfect body. I felt every sculpted muscle, every virile heartbeat as he bent down and gently kissed me. As my tongue sought his, the scene shifted and we lay in a darkened room, wrapped in each other’s embrace, wearing nothing but the sweat of ecstasy. We panted together in perfect rhythm, and a single strained word left my lips: “Yes.”

The scene changed, and he was at my elbow, guiding me into a long black car. Cameras flashed in our faces, and specks of rice crunched under our feet. His azure eyes twinkled as he brushed the white veil away from my cheek and whispered, “My wife.” The image darkened again; he nuzzled my ear as his hand slowly stroked the skin of my swollen belly, sending a shiver through me. The pictures flew by faster and faster, flipping like pages in an imaginary scrapbook: we sat on a couch, surrounded by toys, his arm wrapped around my shoulders; we stood in a crowd and watched mortar boards fly into the air; he held my hand as we cut a cake decorated with the words
25 Years and Counting
.

Woven through the fast-forward of my life were kisses, touches, and intense releases of passion—all shared with this unknown, gorgeous man. Decades of life, love, and lust passed before my eyes in just two long seconds. I didn’t even know if he liked girls, but I could see myself giving everything I was to him.

He smiled tentatively at me, and as fast as it had appeared, the vision vanished. I blinked, breaking eye contact with him, and inhaled, channeling all my strength to my rubbery legs. He stepped forward, and I realized his lips—his perfect lips—were moving. When I didn’t respond, his face fell.

I tried desperately to regain my composure. I’d never experienced a fantasy like that before.
It must be lust at first gawk.

He tried smiling again, and I was able to respond in kind this time.

“May I show you in?” he asked slowly and extended his arm.

Unable to speak, I imitated a
bobblehead
doll instead.

“Bride or groom?” The plush baritone of his words washed over me like the incoming tide, and I had to concentrate on voicing my answer.

“Groom,” I choked out. I placed my hand in the crook of his arm, easily noting the hard definition of his bicep through his tuxedo jacket.

He laughed lightly, and I actually stumbled, recognizing the inviting chuckle. Why was the sound so familiar?

“Do I know you?” I blurted. The answer had to be no. There was no way I could’ve met this amazing creature and forgotten.

He looked down at me, carefully inspecting my features. His eyes sparkled when they met mine again, and his mouth turned up in an uneven smile. “No, I’m sure I would remember
you
,” he said, echoing my thoughts.

I blushed and looked away. This was foolish. With my luck, this guy was some actor Ann had hired to seat the guests. The thought he could be even remotely interested in me was absurd—and hadn’t I decided I didn’t need a date?

I carefully controlled my breathing, resolving to enjoy the few moments I had with this living piece of art. He led me gracefully down the aisle, and I couldn’t help but notice how we’d become the center of attention.

Feeling the stare of so many people smothered my determination, and I tugged on his arm after only a few steps. “Here is fine,” I said. We’d stopped just three rows from the door.

“But I can’t see you back here,” he said, looking toward the front of the church. His eyes creased together as he seemed to measure the distance to the altar.

“What did you say?”

My escort swallowed quickly. “I said I don’t think you can see back here.” Before I could comment, he grinned, and I lost myself in his blindingly white teeth. Were they as smooth as they looked?

He led me down the aisle, his smile never wavering, and I startled when he finally stopped. We were only a few rows from the front.

“How about here?” he asked.

I couldn’t say no; another guest was being seated right behind me. “If you say so,” I said, my voice squeaking.

He chuckled and handed me something.

I turned into the pew, scolding myself for being such an idiot. At least I’d provided him a laugh.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Beth waving a few rows behind me. I didn’t bother to check what had to be her smug expression and slid down the pew near a couple of other young women. They, too, were entranced with my escort, as were most of the women in the room.

“Who is that?” one whispered, subtly pointing at the unknown groomsman.

“I have no idea. Is he Chase Linwood?” the second asked. At the sound of my friend’s name, I glanced over at her. She was peering intently at the program. I looked at the matching page in my own hand.
So that’s what he gave me.

I perused the exotic handmade paper, searching for the list of participants. After skimming the order of service, I flipped the program over. Written on the back, in an elegant curling script, was the information I wanted.

I recognized most of the men listed as groomsmen, but none of the ushers or readers or musicians. How many people did it take to pull off a wedding? Several sported the surnames Linwood or McAlister, including the best man.

The church continued to fill, and I looked around, trying to catch another glimpse of my escort, without any luck. The interior of the building was surprisingly muted. Strips of stained glass broke up the cream-colored walls every ten feet or so, and the pews were the same dusty blue as the carpet. Nothing about this place was what I expected of someone as fashion-forward as Ann.

The music started, and I settled back for the ceremony, grinning when I caught Mitch’s nervous eye peeking through the side door. I wagged my finger at him playfully, and he straightened his shoulders and nodded.

“Thanks,” he mouthed, and I blew him a kiss.
Damn, I’m going to miss him
.

The organist ducked her head once and the music changed. We all turned to see the mystery groomsman escort the groom’s parents to their seats. Suddenly the reason for the familiar feeling became clear.

I’d met Mitch’s parents months before at one of the rodeos and recognized his mother immediately. Her escort—
my
escort—resembled her in amazing ways. His hair was exactly the same rich shade of chocolate brown, and he’d inherited her brilliant blue eyes. His smile was reserved, the look of a son who not only loved, but respected, the woman on his arm, his mother. I’d been fantasizing about Mitch’s younger brother, Jason.

Unlike me, Mrs. McAlister walked proudly next to Jason. Her ice blue dress had no ornamentation save the sparkling clasp that held the jacket-style top closed. Calm, cool, and collected, she was everything I wasn’t.

Mr. McAlister followed behind, his head held high. It was clear Mitch took after him: large, smiling, and bear-like. The elder McAlister put his hand on Jason’s shoulder before he sat and shared a quiet laugh with his son. When Jason turned to walk back up the aisle, his eyes flashed to mine, and the corner of his mouth rose, causing my heart to lurch.

The music changed again, and Chase started down the aisle with his mother. Mrs. Linwood was beautiful, like her daughter, but with wavy, auburn hair. Her dress, a pale lilac sheath, emphasized her youthful appearance. She glided down the aisle on Chase’s arm, and when he showed her to her seat, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

Chase retreated to the back of the church, and moments later, the line of delicious groomsmen appeared at the front near the altar. Jason followed Mitch, and their similarities had me shaking my head. Some observer I was; the resemblance was unmistakable. The brothers shared the same strong chin, the same warm smile, and—as I remembered Jason’s amusement—the same endearing laugh. He turned toward me again, winking in my direction.

I bit my lip, not taking my eyes off him. One by one the bridesmaids entered. I only noticed because their huge, swishing purple skirts nearly drowned out the music. Jason didn’t look away either, equally oblivious to the procession of purple. I felt my expression give way to the dumbfounded look I must’ve worn when I first laid eyes on him, but his gaze didn’t waver.

The vision I’d seen earlier reappeared. Imaginary Jason reached for me…but then the crowd rose, blocking my view. I mentally slapped myself—this fantasy was getting way out of hand. I stood slowly, unable to dispute the fact he was obviously curious about me.

I faced the rear doors, waiting for the bride to enter, the back of my neck tingling. He couldn’t be watching me now, could he? The tempo of the music altered, and a quiet murmur rolled through the crowd. I fidgeted, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder just one last time.
Maybe a quick glance…