Wedding Party Collection: Once A Bridesmaid...: Here Comes the Bridesmaid / Falling for the Bridesmaid

‘I love virgin appliances.’ Arrrgggghhh. Again with the sexual innuendo. He was clearly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

‘In that case you will have an orgasm when you walk in my kitchen.’

Orgasms. Oh. My. God.

Sunshine checked her watch. ‘And, speaking of orgasms, I’d better go.’

Huh? What the hell?

‘I’m being taken to that new Laotian restaurant the Peppercorn Tree tonight,’ she said, as though that explained anything. ‘I checked the menu online. Very excited!’

Okay, he got it. Whew. It was the thought of food making her orgasmic.

And then her words registered. ‘Being taken’. As in date.

‘Gary or Ben?’ He just couldn’t seem to stop himself from asking.

‘Neither of them. Tonight it’s Marco.’

Marco. Marco? Three men on a string now? Not to mention the calligrapher. And the hairdresser. And there was probably a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick-maker in there somewhere.

‘You sure there was no free love on that commune?’ he asked, and thanked heaven and hell that he sounded his normal curt self.

‘Love’s never free, is it?’ Sunshine asked cryptically. And then she smiled. ‘That’s why I’m only interested in sex.’

Before Leo could think of a response she tap-tapped her way out of the restaurant, clearly with no idea he was having a conniption and might need either medical or psychiatric intervention.

FOUR (#ub12fc214-ceec-54b8-9a5a-9b7c1a95f0c6)

TO: Sunshine Smart

FROM: Leo Quartermaine

SUBJECT: Photos

Attached are the images we discussed yesterday, plus the restaurant layout with a sketchy floor plan.

I’ve also included a photo of the toilet paper. White.

I’ll be making pasta tonight, and bringing some homemade gelato.

LQ

TO: Jonathan Jones

FROM: Sunshine Smart

SUBJECT: All going swimmingly—and shoes!

Darling!

Checked out the venue yesterday—scrumptious. Caleb has photos.

Your shoe design is attached. As requested, not too over the top! Black patent with a gorgeous charcoal toecap. The shoes will work brilliantly with the dark grey suit and red tie.

I’m sending Caleb’s design to him directly—he says you don’t get to see his outfit before the big day! And you have the contact number for Bazz in Brooklyn to get the shoes made, so make an appointment, and quickly because he’s super-busy.

Leo’s are next. And, speaking of Leo...drumroll...tonight he’s cooking me dinner!

We’ll get onto the wedding menu tonight too. I’m thinking we should lean towards seafood, but with a chicken alternative for those who are allergic, and, of course, a vegetarian (dullsville) option.

Sunny xxx

PS: Was Marco Valetta always such a douche? Had dinner with him last night and he spent the whole meal talking about his inheritance—scared his father is going to gobble it up on overseas travel. Seriously, let the man spend his own money any way he wants! Marco thought he was going to get lucky, but after banging on all night about money and then suddenly switching to the subject of lap dances??????? As if!!!! He is SO off my Christmas card list. I’ll bet Leo Quartermaine would never be such a loser.

PPS: I saw a statistic recently that said about twenty-five million dollars is spent on lap dances each year in Vegas alone. Amazing!!!!

TO: Leo Quartermaine

FROM: Caleb Quartermaine

SUBJECT: Loving the Sunshine...

...and I don’t mean the New York weather, which is icky-sticky right now.

Just warning you, bro, that my custom-designed shoes are eye-poppers. I love them—but I’m the flamboyant type. Better prepare yourself!

Love the invitations, love the save-the-date, love the fact that you sent Sunshine a photo of the restaurant toilet rolls (yep, she told me). Think I love Sunshine too if she can get you to do that. Jon tells me half the male population of Sydney is in love with her—gay and straight—so I’m in good company.

Also glad about your hair—go, Sunshine! And glad about South.

Can’t wait to marry Jon. Seriously, I don’t care where or how we do it, as long as we do it. The party is just the icing on an already delicious cake.

Your turn now. Hope you’re out there hunting instead of spending every spare minute slaving over assorted hot stoves.

And please tell me the bunny-boiler Natalie is under control. If she turns up at the reception I am getting out the power tools and going for her.

CQ

Sunshine lived in an apartment in Surry Hills. The perfect place for people who didn’t cook, because wherever you looked there were restaurants. Every price range, every style, and practically every ethnicity.

Leo had sent a ton of supplies and equipment ahead of him, because he had a shrewd understanding of what he could expect to find in Sunshine’s cupboards—i.e., nothing much—and the thought of overbalancing the bike while lugging a set of knives was a little too Russian roulette for his liking.

He’d been cursing himself all day about offering to cook for her. Cursing some more that he’d offered to do it at her apartment—his own, with a designer kitchen and every appliance known to man, would have been so much easier. But then, of course, he wouldn’t get to see what her place was like. And, all right, he admitted it: he was curious about that. He imagined boldly coloured walls, exotic furniture, vibrant rugs, maybe some kick-ass paintings or a centrepiece sculpture.

He buzzed the apartment and she answered quickly.

‘Leo!’