Truly Madly Deeply Boxed Set(81)
“Good job, you two,” Mike said.
Startled, she whirled around and met his gaze. She brushed at her bangs. Her wide-eyed vulnerability hit him hard.
“Mike.”
His name on her lips sounded incredibly right... despite the fact that his brother stood by her side.
“Good night.” She ducked her head, brushing past him without another glance.
The vanilla scent he’d noticed earlier wrapped around him like a warm friend. “See you.”
While Peter walked Carly to the door, Mike flipped channels on the television with the remote control. Their muffled voices and Carly’s soft laugh drifted inside, commanding his attention. He swore and raised the volume a notch higher. Whether or not Peter kissed Carly was none of his concern. What those full lips would feel like was also none of his business.
With a guttural curse he’d picked up abroad, Mike shut the television, rose and headed into the guest room. Better to face his nightmares than to eavesdrop on the two lovers saying good night.
TWO
Mike glanced around in disbelief. The tuxedo store couldn’t possibly hold more than five people comfortably. Yet there had to be at least fifteen customers vying for the attention of two harassed salesmen. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered.
“I do.”
Mike stood in the crowded store, too close to Carly, surrounded by her tantalizing scent. Whoever coined the term best man hadn’t had him in mind. At this rate, his goal of getting in and out looked bleak. And though he’d enjoy a morning in her company, he didn’t need the temptation. His brother wouldn’t appreciate Mike’s interest in his future wife.
“Looks like everyone wants to be a June bride,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Did you get a good look around you? The girls can’t be out of their teens and half of these guys have barely begun to shave. This is prom season, too.” Folding her hands in her lap, she took a seat in a vacant chair in the corner.
Mike leaned against the wall beside her. “Since Peter’s meeting us and he’s typically late, I guess we’ll have to wait anyway.”
“True.”
“Would you really have pulled rank on him?” Mike asked, seeking to understand this unlikely twosome. He knew that only a threat to Peter’s career would keep his single-minded brother from getting lost in work and forgetting an appointment. Even for his own wedding.
“We’ll never know, will we?” She sighed and glanced at her watch.
“He isn’t late yet.”
“I never said he was. I’m the one on a tight schedule today.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“Both. I’ve got a late-afternoon deadline for my column and a four o’clock meeting.”
“Pete mentioned something about an advice column and some kind of counseling.” Mike glanced in Carly’s direction, more than a little curious about the many facets of Carly Wexler.
“Mmm. I write a magazine column for teens and I’m also a high-school guidance counselor.”
“Social worker?” he asked.
“Psychologist.”
“Sounds like you’re busy.”
She shrugged. “It’s seasonal. The fall is pretty hectic, but the summers are my own.”
“A job with perks. I like that.”
“Considering you’re a world traveler, I don’t doubt it,” she said with a grin.
From across the room a loud burst of male laughter was followed by distinctly feminine giggles. “What sort of advice do you give these kids?” Mike gestured in the direction of the carefree teens.
When was the last time he’d been that carefree? he wondered and immediately realized the incongruity of the question. He went out of his way to keep his life unencumbered by ties or commitments, yet lately he felt more burdened than ever before.
“They write in asking about how to deal with life. Friendship in some cases, love in others.”
“And you answer with the voice of experience?”
“Hardly.” She blushed a becoming shade of pink.
More like the voice of inexperience? Suddenly he wondered—about Carly, Pete, Carly and Pete— about a lot more than he had a right to know.
“I can’t be late for that meeting.” She not so subtly changed the topic.
“School appointment?” he asked.
She shook her head. “A publisher contacted me through the magazine. They’d like me to consider turning my columns into a self-help type of book.”
“I’m impressed.”
She waved away his compliment. “Good thing this shouldn’t take long. Black double-breasted tuxedos, white shirt, wing-tipped shoes and black bow ties and cummerbunds. What could be simpler?”