Always the Best Man

He shook his head, not trusting his tongue to remain civil.

‘Sure?’ she asked, as she began to move her spoon into position to capture the last morsel. ‘I’m sure I could pilfer one for you from somewhere, or sweet-talk one of the waiters …’

‘I’m sure you could,’ Damien replied dryly.

That saucy glint again. Now his suit was three sizes too small instead of two. And all that shrinkage was making him feel hot and jittery.

‘Oh, well,’ she said and popped the now full spoon into her mouth, turning it upside down at the last moment so she could suck every square millimetre of the silver clean. She closed her eyes and murmured her appreciation deep down in her throat.

Damien experienced a quick, hot jolt of something unexpected. Something he didn’t really want to identify. Especially when it was prompted by Zoe St James’s mobile lips sliding along a spoon.

Thankfully, Sara’s father chose that moment to stand up and clink his dessert fork against his glass. All heads turned towards the top table and Damien instantly sat up straighter and put his game face back on.

In fact, he was so busy making sure he wasn’t giving off any unwanted non-verbal cues to more than a hundred guests that he didn’t even hear the opening sentences of Colin’s speech. He couldn’t let anything slip. Not a facial twitch, not a glance in the wrong direction. No one must guess that he was anything less than the perfect best man. But all the while the guilt, the frustration, the slow, glowing flicker of rage kept building inside him until he wished he had a giant version of the metal cages that went round champagne corks. If he wasn’t very much mistaken, his head was about to explode from his shoulders, and that wouldn’t do before the toasts were over.

More words. They floated past like yachts in a stiff breeze. Words he’d heard a hundred times before at occasions like this. Until the end of the speech, that was …

‘So …’ Colin Mortimer beamed at his wife and then his daughter ‘… Brenda and I decided we wanted to do something special for our little girl.’ He paused for dramatic effect as his only daughter smiled back up at him. ‘We know you’d planned a simple honeymoon sailing Luke’s pride and joy down the south coast, but we decided we’d like to upgrade you a little …’

Damien sat up straighter. Uh-oh. Luke had planned the perfect honeymoon for himself and Sara, one Damien would have given his right arm to have. A fortnight on Dream Weaver with no one but Sara? It sounded like heaven. Oh, Luke would smile and thank his new father-in-law if he produced tickets for an all-inclusive break in some slick hotel, but his dream holiday would be ruined.

Always the one to take charge, to make sure all the details were ironed out and perfect, Damien started composing a speech in his head, one he’d have with Colin afterwards, to try and help Luke back graciously out of this latest development.

The father of the bride handed Luke a wallet. ‘Two plane tickets to the Virgin Islands—’

Damien began rehearsing that little speech in earnest.

‘—and the use of a luxury yacht for three weeks!’

There was a collective gasp from the guests and then people started to clap and cheer. Damien was frozen. For some reason he couldn’t move. Hell, he couldn’t even think straight.

Sara was hugging her father and Luke was pumping his hand enthusiastically.

No wonder. Luke had dreamed of sailing those turquoise Caribbean waters since he and Damien had both been racing little Laser dinghies together at summer sailing school. However, since Sara had put her foot down about a transatlantic crossing for a honeymoon, Luke had had to settle for West Country cruising instead.

Why hadn’t Damien thought of doing this for them? He should have done. After all, it was sailing that had bonded him and Luke as friends all those years ago.

You know why.

Damien closed his eyes. Yes, he did know. He’d let his guilt at having feelings for his best friend’s woman cloud everything.

And the jealousy too. Don’t forget the jealousy.

No. I tried so hard not to let that happen. I don’t want anything but the best for them. At least, I don’t want to want anything but the best for them.

But he had been jealous. As much as he’d tried to outrun it, he had.

And it made him lower than pond life. Which was why, when one hundred and fifteen guests rose and joined Colin Mortimer in toasting the happy couple, Damien began to shake. Not on the surface—he was too well-practised at being the textbook best man for that—but deep down in his gut. He was almost surprised the untouched champagne glass in his hand didn’t rattle.

And then the father of the bride turned to him, a beneficent smile on his face, nodded and sat down.

Damien rose, his legs propelling him upwards suddenly so he hit his thighs against the table top and made the silverware jiggle.

His turn now. His turn to spout and toast—and lie. He swallowed, knowing he was about to open his mouth and prove himself the biggest hypocrite in the world.

CHAPTER TWO

THE whole room went quiet. Zoe felt a familiar and almost irresistible urge to blurt something shocking out, just to inject some life into the dead and faultless silence. Instead she rested one elbow on the table and twisted her head round to hear His Highness say something pompous.

Only he didn’t say anything. Pompous or otherwise. He just stood there, staring at everyone. The only movement was a Jurassic Park-type mini-tremor in his glass of champagne.

He opened his mouth. A few wedding guests leaned forward. Damien Stone was famous for his best man speeches. People joked about crashing weddings just to hear them. He closed his lips again.

The silence began to get awkward. Children began to fidget.

Damien Stone cleared his throat.

Zoe seriously considered jumping up and shouting, Knickers!

But just in the nick of time a noise came from the back of his mouth, so quiet she was probably the only person who heard it. But she saw him tense, push the sound forward until it grew and words followed it.

‘I haven’t got anything clever to say.’

People began to look at each other and smile. They knew this was just the start. It would be clever and funny and touching. It would.

He took a deep breath. ‘Just that Luke and Sara are truly the perfect couple.’

Zoe frowned. She’d been all revved up to smirk inwardly at his artfully crafted spiel, but his simple sincerity had stolen all her thunder.

‘And I can’t do anything more than say that Luke is the best friend a man could have, and remind him he is the luckiest man in the world to have found Sara, and wish them a lifetime of happiness together.’

He paused, raised his glass to the bride and groom.

Zoe held her champagne flute up, but her eyes were on the best man. Had that really been a catch in his voice when he’d said his best friend’s name?

‘To Luke and Sara,’ he said simply, and suddenly the whole marquee was on its feet, clapping and cheering and marvelling at how, once again, the best man had outdone himself.

Damien knocked back his fizz and sat down, exhaling heavily. If Zoe hadn’t known any better she’d have thought he was nervous. But that would have meant he was feeling an emotion other than smug superiority, which was clearly impossible.

She took a sip of her own drink and sat down beside him. Now, she’d never been one to want to cause Damien Stone’s head to swell any bigger, but for some reason she felt she needed to say something, to tell him how perfect his words had been.

‘That was—’

His head snapped round in surprise—as if he’d totally forgotten she existed and had been occupying the space beside him—and he fixed her with those cold blue eyes.

His voice was low and hoarse. ‘Just don’t, Zoe. Not right now.’

‘But I wasn’t going to—’