Dating the Enemy

“What? I held your bouquet. Wiped the ring-bearer’s spit-up from your gown. Gave a splendid toast. My job here is done!”

Becky pulled on her arm, forcing her up from the chair.

“Nuh-uh. I am about to throw my bouquet. And you, my friend, are going to be in the front row.”

“What? No way. I’m busy here.”

“Yes, way. I’m sure Nick won’t mind. You wouldn’t want her to shirk her duties … or miss her chance to catch the bouquet, would you?” she asked, giving him a pointed look.

“I don’t much care about the bouquet, but I’ll let you steal her if you promise to give me her number later,” he said.

“You got it. And I won’t even make you promise to marry her.”

“Good. I’m not the marrying kind.”

“Neither am I,” said Jessie.

Becky looked at them, a knowing expression on her face. “That’s what they all say.”

“Cut it out,” Jessie answered, swatting her playfully. “Just because you’re a blushing bride, it doesn’t mean we all want to be carried away by a knight in shining armor.”

“Whatever you say,” Becky said. Then, turning to Nick, she continued. “Just call Mark when you’re ready for Jessie’s number. He’s got it on speed dial.”

Nick watched as Becky dragged Jessie away toward a large wooden staircase and forced her to stand in the middle of the small group of women gathered there to catch the prized bunch of soon-to-be dead flowers.

The bouquet sailed through the air, heading straight for Jessie. She tried to duck, but at the last second put out her arms so it didn’t hit her in the face.

She was the chosen one.

The other women formed a tight knot around her as the groom called out, “All right, guys, it’s garter-catching time!”

Time to make his exit, Nick thought. He had no intention of getting anywhere near that garter … even if winning it meant he got to put it on Jessie’s thigh.

He headed for the door, casting one last look in Jessie’s direction. She was laughing up at Becky, the twinkling fairy lights that lit the room making her smile sparkle even brighter.

Too bad. He sure would have liked to spend the evening getting to know her better.

But they could hook up once they were both back in New York.

He knew where to get her number.

CHAPTER ONE (#uc9c62575-2f7b-54ac-bfc6-dad13b8b0779)

JESSIE GROWLED WHEN she heard the phone ring. She couldn’t possibly reach it from where she sat, huddled under her desk. Not for the first time she cursed the ancient wiring in her office. It shorted out the power strip that kept her laptop juiced at least three times a day, necessitating these little sojourns.

Someday she’d get that fixed. Hopefully someday soon—especially if they kept landing new business.

“Gloria? Can you get that for me?” she shouted, hoping her sister would hear her.

“Got it!” Gloria yelled as she skidded across the slippery wooden floor and dived for the phone.

“Good afternoon, this is Jessie Owens’s phone … Yes, she’s here. She just needs a minute to get to the phone. Can I tell her who’s calling?”

Gloria peered down at Jessie. “A man named Nick is on the phone. He says you two met at Becky’s wedding.”

Nick? That was a surprise. Given how fast he’d run after she threw herself at him, she hadn’t thought she’d ever hear from him again.

Stupid champagne. She knew better than to drink that stuff. All her internal filters disappeared after a couple of glasses.

Finally untangling herself from the mess of cords, she held a hand up to Gloria. “Help me up, would you?”

Gloria pulled, hard and the two women overbalanced, ending up in a pile on the floor.

They looked at each other and burst into giggles.

“Smooth move, ace.”

“Right back at ya, grace.”

Jessie was still laughing when she spoke into the phone. “Hello, this is Jessie.”

“Jessie. It’s good to know your laugh sounds just as intoxicating when I’m not hopped up on wedding pheromones,” a gravelly voice said.

“I’m surprised you remember how my voice sounded. You sure hightailed it out of there as quickly as you could after we chatted!”

“It wasn’t you,” he said, his voice low with what she assumed was mock regret. “It was the garter. I didn’t want to get anywhere near it.”

Jessie laughed again. She could certainly understand that. After she’d caught the bouquet she’d been forced to coo over the flowers with a gaggle of over-hopeful women, then dance with the aging, paunchy bachelor who’d caught the garter.

“I don’t blame you. It was a weird scene,” she said, leaning back against her desk.

“Weddings usually are. If we’d actually gone back to your room, your friends would have had us married off by morning.”

“Nah, they know better. As far as I’m concerned, marriage is a waste of time.”

Nick laughed. “I hope you didn’t tell Becky that?”

“Of course not. I was my usual supportive self,” she answered, picking up the framed picture of the two of them that sat on her desk. “It has been a long time, though. What? Three months? You’ve been busy, I suppose?”

“Well, you know … I just had to fit a transatlantic move into my schedule, start a new job, and figure out how to save my family’s business. Little stuff.”

Jessie laughed. “You could have stopped at transatlantic move. That would have been enough for me.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he said.

An awkward silence fell and she glanced down at her watch. “Crap,” she said before she could choke the word back. “I’m late.”

“Late?”