Confessions Of A Bad Bridesmaid

‘You can call her Bunny, Liv. All her friends call her Bunny.’ Will put his arm around Olivia and squeezed. Phoebe’s—or Bunny’s—smile faltered.

‘Yes. Do,’ she said, her eyes flickering over Olivia’s hair.

Olivia was starting to feel uncomfortable. Bunny made no more attempts at conversation, just said something to Will that Olivia didn’t catch and laughed loudly. Fiona had said Will’s family had been making her feel uncomfortable but she hadn’t mentioned Will’s sister. She’d said Will’s sister was the only one being nice.

‘You must be excited about the wedding,’ Olivia attempted.

Bunny’s dark eyes swivelled again to Olivia. ‘Of course. We all thought Will here was a confirmed batch. More girlfriends than a sheikh.’

Olivia’s shoulders stiffened. But then Bunny smiled and let out an easy laugh.

‘But he’s found a great girl in Fiona. I couldn’t be happier for him.’

Fiona was smiling at Bunny as if she were a block of chocolate come to life. Olivia hesitated. Bunny seemed fun, and she was very pretty and she laughed a lot, but the way she held on to Will possessively and the way she turned her back a little to leave Olivia and Fiona out of the conversation reminded her a little too much of her sister’s friends.

‘That’s a fabulous dress, Olivia.’ Her eyes met Olivia’s. ‘I didn’t know feathers were back in.’

A cold clamp stilled in Olivia’s chest. It wasn’t what Bunny had said. It was the way she’d said it.

‘I thought it was a bit of fun.’

Bunny smiled and then let out a muffled giggle. ‘Oh, it’s certainly that.’ She gripped Will’s arm and smiled manically at Olivia. ‘Perhaps we could find you a comfy tree to roost in tonight?’ The laugh that was on the tip of her lips came out as a snort.

‘Bunny, be nice.’

Will’s serious reprimand only made Olivia feel worse. She looked around. Everyone was dressed in pants. Or long skirts. No one else was wearing a feather and sparkle-encrusted mini-dress. No one except her. She felt as she had when she was thirteen and her sister’s friends had dressed her up for the school disco. They’d teased her hair high and streaked blue eye shadow all over her eyelids. They’d assured her it was the latest ‘look’. But it hadn’t been and she’d been the laughing-stock of the school for the next six months.

A waiter walked past, his tray laden with glasses of champagne. Olivia swiped one and drank it down in one gulp. Defending her best friend from mean girls she could do. But when it came to defending herself...? That was proving to be much harder.

Bunny was still looking at her, waiting for her to respond. A hot rash crept up her chest. It was as if her sister’s friends were in the room—pointing and laughing and making her feel inadequate.

So Olivia did what she always did when she felt inadequate. She made excuses. ‘I had to get changed in the car. It was the first dress I could find.’

‘Perhaps if you’d been on time you would have been able to find something more...appropriate.’ Bunny laughed again and Will shushed her, but she swatted at his arm.

‘It’s all right, Will. Olivia’s a big girl—she can take it.’ Bunny sipped her own champagne before winking at Fiona and calling out to someone over the din and disappearing in the crowd.

‘Liv, forget Bunny—’ Will placed his hand on Olivia’s arm but she shook it off.

‘It’s OK, Will. I’m fine. I know she was only joking.’

But the truth was Olivia felt as if she’d been slapped. First across one cheek—that pompous Edward Winchester had obviously tattled to his sister that she hadn’t been at the airport when he’d gone to pick her up—and then across the other when the mean girl had called her dress inappropriate.

She’d been worrying about what to wear to this weekend party for weeks. She’d wanted to look nice, make an impression. Stand out. She’d wanted to look her best but she’d obviously got it wrong and just looked stupid.

Through the crowd she spotted the tall frame of Edward, who happened to turn her way right at that moment. A half-smile touched his lips and he nodded. Shame, embarrassment and humiliation washed over her. He was laughing at her. With his sister and probably everyone else. This was not going to be the weekend she’d envisioned. This was going to be the worst weekend of her life.

A perfectly dressed waiter walked by and she plucked another tall glass of champagne from his tray. There was only one way to survive this weekend. And that was to drink copious amounts of ridiculously expensive French champagne.

FIVE

Olivia smiled again at one of the men in front of her. She had no idea what he was saying—or what his name was. There were two of them, and even though they were speaking English she couldn’t quite follow the conversation.

‘London is so not the thing at the mo. I mean, its totes obvs that Louise fancies me, but I just want to shop around, you know?’

‘Totes, man. Louise is just too blates anyway. You need to chuck her.’

‘Mmm. I’m thinking I might have to. What do you think, Livs?’

The blond man turned to her. For a second Olivia was dazzled by his bright white teeth.

‘I...’

‘That’s a hot dress you’re wearing, Livs.’

The dark-haired one had spoken. He was just about the prettiest man Olivia had ever seen. She’d spent a good five minutes just marvelling at the perfection of his skin.

‘Thanks...’

‘It’s not endangered, is it?’ The blond laughed at his own joke, then slung his arm around Olivia. ‘Only jokes, sweetheart. You’re the hottest girl in the room tonight. Here.’ He plucked a drink from the tray of a passing waiter. ‘Drink up. You’re falling behind.’

Olivia took a long sip. She glanced sideways at the blond, whose name she still wasn’t sure of. Chester? Hester? His arm stayed where it was. Possessively pulling her to him. Olivia shuffled a little to the left.

There was no doubt Chester/Hester was a handsome man. And he laughed a lot. He was friendly, and he included her in the conversation, but there was something about him. Something alarmingly predatory that made her body chill a little when he got too close. But she was finally being included. No one else had talked to her. The party was swirling all around her. These two had found her some champagne and asked her about Australia.

Fiona and Will were off talking to another round-vowelled relative and Olivia had avoided too many uncomfortable interactions. Except for when she’d met Will’s mother, a woman who stood silently most of the time. Her large brown eyes, surrounded by wrinkles and bags, and the defeated stance of her shoulders made her difficult to talk to. She’d answered Olivia pleasantly enough, but her answers had all been one word only.

Will’s father, on the other hand, was loud—and for some reason unreasonably angry. Everything Olivia said had landed her in trouble.

‘You have a lovely home, Mr Winchester.’

‘Are you saying I couldn’t have bought this myself? Just because I inherited it doesn’t mean I’m a lazy loafer.’

‘Will is a charming young man. Fiona is very lucky to have him.’

‘Why wouldn’t he be charming? We brought him up right—he has no reason to be anything but charming. What are you implying?’

After a few more minutes of that Olivia had escaped. She’d fallen to the back of the room and sipped more champagne alone until these two well-dressed men had approached her. She’d known enough men to know what they needed. Laugh at their jokes and bat your eyelashes. No matter what language you spoke, that always worked.

She was busy laughing at something else she couldn’t understand when a chill came over the group. The pretty men in front of her stopped laughing and they looked over her head. She knew what it was before she even turned. She could feel him. Looming. Watching. Judging.

‘Hello, Eddie.’

‘It’s Edward. Hello, Olivia. Casper. Hugo.’

The air had changed. A defiant prickle spread across the group. As if Edward was the headmaster and had caught them smoking behind the bike sheds.

‘Come to spoil the party, have you, Eddie? Are we being too loud?’ Olivia asked, feeling a little bold from the four glasses of champagne she’d drunk.

Edward’s eyes narrowed and he brought his hands up to clasp them in front of him. ‘Not at all. I was coming to see if you were all right.’ His eyes slipped over the two men by her side. ‘I wasn’t aware you two were on the invitation list this weekend.’

Chester/Hester/Casper tightened his grip around Olivia’s shoulder, where his arm still lingered. She almost lost her balance.

‘Wouldn’t miss it. Will Winchester getting hitched? It’s the talk of London.’

Edward’s eyes turned glacial. ‘I would put money on the fact that it’s not.’

‘It totes is, Edward,’ pretty Hugo piped up. ‘Party of the decade, apparently.’

‘Are you all right, Olivia?’

Edward’s eyes swivelled to Olivia before glancing at the large arm that was hanging over her shoulder, uncomfortably close to her right breast. Olivia didn’t dare move in case the hand brushed her nipple. She had been having fun with these two, but something deep inside her knew she didn’t want either of them to touch her nipple. But Edward had that look on his face. That haughty look that reminded her of Bunny. So she grabbed the hanging hand and held on to it.

‘These handsome boys are making me feel right at home.’

The champagne and the jet lag had taken hold. The bubbles danced and her words came out slightly slurred. She lost her footing a little and leaned into Casper, expecting his frame to hold her, but she must have surprised him because he stumbled and so did Olivia. Great—now Edward would think she was drunk. And she wasn’t. Yet.

‘Perhaps you could do with some air?’

‘She doesn’t need air. She’s perfectly all right here.’ Casper’s voice was an arrogant sneer. ‘Haven’t you got a cause to campaign for? Or some middle class nobodies to wrangle votes from, Winchester?’

She heard him snigger and wanted to throw him off. His comments irritated her and his palm had become sweaty. She loosened her hold but his fingers gripped her harder.

‘Why don’t you run along and get us another drink, Winchester? There’s a good lad.’

More laughs.

Olivia didn’t know Edward very well, but even with her limited knowledge she knew that was not the right thing to say to him. She watched his face transform. His eyes met those of the buffoon still clinging to her. His jaw twitched and he pushed his shoulders back.

‘You two are here because Bunny insisted. But if you cause any trouble this weekend I’ll have both of you dipped in honey and stuffed in a beehive before dragging you back to London behind my father’s John Deere. Do you understand?’

Chester/Hester/Casper went stiff before he withdrew his hand.

‘Someone’s got their period...’ Casper’s voice didn’t sound as confident as before.

Edward took a menacing step forward, a vein now throbbing in his neck. ‘Get out of here. And I don’t want to see your ugly mugs for the rest of the weekend.’

* * *

Casper and Hugo threw Edward a dark look before turning and moving away.

‘What did you do that for?’ Olivia turned to Edward. His face had returned to the impassive mask he usually wore.

‘Seems they weren’t that interested in you after all. Didn’t put up much of a fight, did they?’

Olivia felt the bubbles fizz in her brain again. No, they hadn’t. One look at Edward’s angry face and they’d fled. But that was what men normally did, whether there was an Edward there or not. She turned to watch the crowd with a deep sigh. She had a habit of intriguing people for all of five minutes. Then—somehow—they always ran away. Even Fiona—her best friend in the whole world—had abandoned her when someone better came along.

She looked up at Edward but he was watching the crowd, his hands clasped behind his back. Looking like the pious goody-two-shoes he was.

‘Couldn’t wait to dob on me to your sister, could you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

His dark eyes swivelled her way and she met them.

‘She had a go at me for being late. Then she insulted my dress.’

He turned to survey the crowd. ‘Bunny has a habit of saying what pops into her head. You should try and ignore her.’

‘This family seems awfully good at that. Ignoring people. Before you came and broke up the party those two were the only ones being friendly to me.’

‘Those two were being friendly for one reason only.’ His voice lowered an octave and became hard.

‘I’m not stupid, Edward. I know exactly what type of men those two are. I’ve been rejected by enough men to know what they want. Or what they don’t want. But sometimes it’s better to have someone rather than no one.’

‘You’d rather be with those thickheads, who are plying you with alcohol in the hope you’ll fall over and flash your knickers at them, than be alone? You mustn’t think much of yourself.’

‘I’d rather laugh and talk to “those thickheads” than stand here being insulted by the biggest thickhead of all.’

‘Yet you remain.’

Olivia turned to the room full of people, not seeing any of them. Edward was annoying and frustrating and rude. But he didn’t want to get in her pants. So the only reason he was standing there talking to her was because he wanted to stand there and talk to her. Somehow that put her at ease. It felt strangely comfortable, being with someone she knew she had no chance with. She didn’t have to perform; she could just be...herself. The idea was freeing.

She breathed in deeply and let it out loudly.

‘I know what people think of me, Edward.’ She glanced at him, wondering what he thought of her for a second.

Edward just stood silently next to her. Solid and strong. Not touching her, not wanting anything from her.

‘I’m looking for a man.’ She felt Edward stiffen beside her but still he said nothing. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not my type. Too judgy, too cold, too...’

She looked up at him and he turned to face her. She took in his wide jaw and his very dark eyes. Like pools of dark chocolate. Deep and warm and luxuriously soft. A girl could get lost in those eyes and never find her way out. His jaw twitched as he looked down at her. His face looked as if it had been carved from stone, and he was so tall and broad and...

‘Too handsome.’

He coughed and looked away.

‘I prefer someone less...I don’t know...’ She tried to find the right word. ‘Intimidating.’

‘A weak man who’ll put up with your nonsense and bend over when you tell him to?’

‘No. A sweet, sensitive man who’ll love me unconditionally. A kind, gentle soul who needs me.’

‘A pushover.’

Olivia gave him the hardest look she could. ‘You are a cynical man, Edward Winchester. And you don’t have a romantic bone in that great big—’ surprisingly lean and muscular ‘—body of yours.’

A waiter walked past and she reached out to grab another glass of champagne, downing it in one long sip. All the time, Edward watched her.

‘Life is not a romance novel, Olivia. It’s about work and responsibility and doing what you’re supposed to.’

Olivia sighed again. She knew that. She knew it. But she wished life was like a romance novel. She wished there was someone—anyone—who would be willing to love her despite her faults. But she knew that was impossible.

They stood silently, largely ignored by the milling crowd.

‘I know,’ she said suddenly. ‘Why don’t you help me?’ Another waiter wandered past and Olivia grabbed another glass. ‘You seem the type to think things through. Weigh up the alternatives. Make sensible decisions. Maybe you can figure out why everyone always leaves me.’

SIX

Edward looked down at the big blue eyes that were blinking up at him. They were smothered in black eye shadow. She looked like a raccoon. Lost, tipsy and desperate. Three attributes that should make him want to run a mile. Earlier she’d been hard and challenging. Now she seemed needy. It was an intoxicating combination and it brought out something primitive in him. Some protective gene he was sure was purely practical and had nothing to do with the fact that he found her big blue eyes increasingly irresistible.

He had been drawn to her all night, his body on alert when she moved, when she laughed, and when her eyes turned to scan the room. And to be honest he wasn’t sure why. She was abrasive and unpredictable and silly, but there was a sweetness to her that, combined with her captivating sexiness, made her hard to ignore.

And now she wanted him to be honest. To find her flaws and tell them to her. Dangerous. He knew from experience that people didn’t really want to know. People liked being in their little cocoons.

‘Perhaps we should discuss this outside.’ She was swaying on her feet and his uncle-with-the-wandering-hands seemed to be looking their way and licking his lips. The thought of that dirty old man’s hands on her was making him sick.

This time she didn’t fight him. She let him lead her outside and he whisked the champagne glass out of her hands on the way out—swiftly relieving a passing waiter of a glass of water at the same time.

On the terrace, it was cold. The blackness amplified by the new moon that hung grey and high in the sky. Edward closed the doors behind them to block out the noise of voices. When he turned Olivia was leaning over the balcony, looking up to the sky. Her short dress had risen up so high he could see the curve of her buttocks. He quickly averted his eyes and shrugged off his jacket. She must be freezing.

‘The saucepan is upside down.’

Not for the first time Edward found himself intrigued by this woman. What was she talking about now? He moved closer and gently put his jacket around her shoulders, placing the glass of water on the edge of the brick terrace. He moved slowly and silently. He didn’t want to spook her.

Those two great pillocks who’d been plying her with booze had been all over her. When he’d seen them with Olivia he’d known what they were doing. And he’d also known Olivia was in no state to be left alone with them.

Olivia shifted and looked at him as he placed the jacket around her shoulders, but she didn’t throw it off.

‘Why is the saucepan upside down?’ With her strange words she pointed to the sky.

‘The saucepan?’

‘There. See the three stars in a row and the handle? It’s upside down.’

Edward tilted his head. It did look like a saucepan. But it wasn’t. It was the constellation Orion.

‘That’s Orion, the great warrior. The three stars make up his belt.’

‘The great warrior,’ she murmured. ‘Like you.’

Her words were a little slurred and her limbs were loose. Jet lag and champagne were a toxic combination. Prone to make you do and say things you shouldn’t. Which was why he always stopped at one drink.

‘I’m no warrior.’

‘Yes, you are. You saved me from those buffoons.’

‘I thought you were having fun.’ He moved closer. She looked cold. He wanted to warm her up.

Olivia turned to him as she laughed and he held his breath. She’d smiled before, but not like this. He found himself irresistibly smiling back at her. She moved a little closer to him but turned back to the sky. He watched her. Her long eyelashes blinked and a dimple sank into her cheek. She shifted so her chin was resting on her shoulder and turned to look at him. That smile again. He had to move. He’d hardened in an instant.

‘I was. I like to have fun.’

She blinked at him and he moved even closer, letting his shoulder rest against hers. Just in case she fell. He heard her suck in a breath, and she looked down at his shoulder before lifting those big eyes to him. Her lips parted and he almost forgot where he was and, for a moment, who he was.

Her hair was wild around her face and her eyes were glancing at his lips. His entire body went hard and he couldn’t move. He watched as she licked her full, bouncy lips. This woman was dangerous. One of those women who made you forget. But he couldn’t forget. He could never forget.

He had to say something.

‘“The stroke of midnight ceases,”’ he recited. ‘“And I lie down alone. The rainy Pleiades wester, And seek beyond the sea, The head that I shall dream of, That will not dream of me.”’

Edward felt Olivia’s eyes on him.

‘What was that? A poem? You recite poetry?’ She laughed at him and looked away. ‘For someone who is not a romantic that sounded suspiciously romantic, Eddie.’

‘That’s not romantic. It’s extremely unromantic. The man in that poem is dreaming of a woman who isn’t dreaming of him. That’s not romantic. It’s foolish.’

And you’re being foolish, he reminded himself as he dragged his eyes away from her plump lips. Kissing someone like Olivia would not help. Dragging a woman into his life was not something he could do. Especially not a fun-loving, free-spirited woman like Olivia. She’d hate it, and she’d resent him and they’d both end up unhappy. He moved away, put some distance between them so he could no longer feel the warmth of her skin or smell her cinnamon scent.

‘The man who wrote that is not foolish. He’s romantic. Wistful.’ Olivia sighed and looked back to the sky.

Edward noticed she’d pulled his jacket closer.

‘Probably not a man. Probably a woman. Dreaming of finding someone she can never hope to find.’

A rush of sympathy invaded his bones. She sounded so sad. So unlike the angry woman in the car or in the drawing room, threatening that she hadn’t ‘finished’ with him.

‘Then you fill your life with something else,’ he said softly.

He could feel her pain. Olivia sounded confused. He suspected she didn’t know what she wanted. She needed someone strong. Someone to take care of her. Edward’s shoulders stiffened. Definitely not him. He caused pain; he didn’t relieve it. That realisation poured a stream of cold water over him.

‘You should strive for something that will give you back exactly what you put into it.’

‘Like what?’

‘Work. Exercise.’

‘You exercise?’

‘I run. Every day.’

‘Me too.’

That magnetic smile lit her face again and it hit him in the chest. Then her face fell.

‘I hate it, though. It gives me too much time to think. And it hurts.’

‘So why do you do it?’

She faced him and ran her hand seductively from her breasts to her thigh. It sent a shiver straight through him and he stood to attention again. Her garish purple dress peeked through his jacket and the flashes of the skin on her chest and her legs were making him sweat, even as the night chill wound around him.

‘This body don’t come cheap. I’ll let you in on a secret, Eddie. I’m not a natural beauty. Any appeal I have comes from hard work and a daily pounding of the pavement.’

Edward thought that none of her appeal came from pounding the pavement. She had a killer body, that was true. But she also had a set of full, pouty lips, a beautiful smile and an innate consciousness of her own femininity. The woman was sexy. Damn sexy. And she knew it.

‘If that body is so hard to get why do you expose it in cheap stuff like that thing you call a dress? If that body were mine I’d have it covered from nose to ankle so no one could lay his perving eyes on you.’

Olivia blinked.

‘You would?’

He nodded and moved closer to her. As if she were a magnet and he couldn’t resist. Her small body was warm, and even though he wasn’t touching her he could feel the heat emanating from her.

‘If you were mine, Olivia, I’d barely let you out of the bedroom, where clothes don’t matter.’

The silence that lay between them wasn’t awkward. And it wasn’t silent. He could see her thinking. He was sure she could see him thinking. Wanting to do something he shouldn’t. Wishing it was he who’d had those glasses of champagne. Maybe then he wouldn’t think so much.

Olivia swayed and grabbed the wall for support, knocking the glass of water off in the process. It smashed noisily on the paving. He moved quickly to hold her around the waist. When she fell against him her breasts were soft against his chest. Then she moved even closer, snuggling in, making his chest expand and his arms hold her even tighter. Her blue eyes swivelled up to him and he saw the question in them. The air was thick and heavy and so was her need. He answered it automatically by pulling her in even closer.