Hate to Love You(29)

I stared at it with loathing. Think convent novice without the sleeves and in beige, all the way down to my knees. My attempts to rip it apart proved fruitless, so I stomped on it and kicked it into the corner. Childish I know, but it made me feel better.

The few dresses that Caroline had left in her wardrobe were demure, suited for work at a law firm. I was just about to take out a boring navy shift when I caught a glimpse of something red under a plastic wrapping.

Interesting.

The tag was from Impress, the boutique Caroline had bought her first dance outfit from. I could see immediately why she’d rejected it. The skimpy style was strictly Jezebel—great for a celebrity dance competition. You know, the ones where they do the sexy Latin stuff and you hope there’s a wardrobe malfunction to spice things up.#p#分页标题#e#

My face hardened, remembering Caroline’s gloating satisfaction. If I had the guts to sleep with James in her bed, I figured I had the guts to wear this dress at her wedding. And her new Jimmy Choos. Now all I had to do was find something to hide my outfit from my parents’ eyes until the disco. That’s when they’d head off to bed and I’d act as slutty as Caroline said I was.

I held the dress against my body. Would James notice me if I wore this? Would he still desire me? Would his body respond and tighten with lust?

Oh, crap, I had to get rid of my fixation with James. Watching him marry Caroline should do the trick. It had to. I didn’t want to think about him anymore. I shied away from the memory of whispered caresses and guttural moans, wrapping his image in chains and sinking it into my deepest waters. Down where it could keep company with a lot of other images I wanted to forget.

Live in the shallows, I say. As soon as you delve any deeper the sharks come out to play.

Cringing, I looked into the mirror. There wasn’t much I could do with my hair so I let it hang long and loose. Amp the Vamp Red coated my lips but other than that I wore no makeup. Should I pull my hair over my swollen cheek? No, that didn’t help. I’d have to settle for sex kitten meets a bit of rough. I straightened my shoulders and sucked in my tummy. Slouching in the slut dress could be fatal.

Francesca was punctual. She was an older, female replica of James, right down to his green eyes and assessing gaze. Her soft Italian accent was charming although she herself was not. She looked me over, her face tightening in disapproval as she perused my outfit. In her eyes I read the snobby certainty of my lower-class vulgarity. I squared my chin, resisted the urge to cover up with my mother’s trench coat and got into the black BMW.

The chauffeur was young and built like a bouncer. Now was as good a time as any to start forgetting about James, right? I asked his name so I could see his face.

“Bonaparte Muir of Barbados, miss,” he said politely, showing gorgeous brown skin and big almond eyes.

I gave him a flirty smile. “Paisley Benton of Brighton, sir.”

Francesca frowned and though the day was warm we journeyed in freezing silence. As soon as we arrived at the wedding I put on the trench coat and buttoned up.

The grounds outside Saint Albert’s were full. People walked between the faded, crumbling tombstones as they chatted and enjoyed the sunshine, waiting to be ushered inside. I lost myself among them and headed towards the secluded garden at the back.

It was lined by birch trees that separated the eighteenth-century church from the farmlands beyond. I stopped at the third-to-last trunk, looking for the initials I’d carved when I was ten, hiding from the Sunday school teacher. I traced my fingers over the old etchings and inhaled the woodsy scent of my memories.

When I could no longer avoid it I slipped into St Albert’s and squeezed into the last pew on the left, then wrinkled my nose. White roses decorated the aisles and windows, swamping the large church with their cloying scent and adding to my underlying nausea. God, I hate white. Black too. The world is stark enough as it is.

A few minutes later James came out of the vestry with the best man. My heart jumped, slowed and then picked up an erratic beat. He was even more arresting, more attractive than I remembered. Every caress we’d shared came surging back to me, filling me with undeniable longing. I stared at him, dismayed at my reaction.

Had I really thought I could drown his memory?

The violinists started their rendition of boringly unimaginative Pachelbel’s Canon and everyone stood up. James searched the church entrance for Caroline and zoned straight to me instead. Our eyes met and held. The instinctive thrum of recognition that sparked between us was like an intangible cord, linking us across the crowded church. His smile faltered and then faded entirely. A few people turned to stare at me curiously but I ignored them. Then the best man nudged James and he blinked, severing our connection.#p#分页标题#e#