Maid of Dishonour

While she might not be in the market for indiscriminate flings any more, it was satisfying to know she hadn’t lost her touch.

In fact, as she took a long gulp of the watery diner coffee ten minutes later, she felt almost mellow. Until the revolving door at the front of the restaurant spun round and out popped Marnie Price looking cute and efficient in her power suit and kitten heels. Gina lifted a hand to wave, and watched Marnie’s expression go from keen to wary when she spotted the empty seat next to her.

The hollow roll of regret flopped over in Gina’s stomach. While it was certainly true that she and the Savannah Belle hadn’t had a thing in common when they’d first met at Reese’s house on campus—and Gina had spent most of that first month teasing Marnie mercilessly about everything from her views on love and marriage to her perfect Southern manners—their friendship had eventually developed into something strong and supportive and surprisingly genuine.

The truth was, Gina had felt superior to Marnie then. Gina had considered herself a sophisticated, cosmopolitan woman of the world who knew all she needed to know about men and sex and relationships—unlike the sheltered, self-confessed Southern virgin.

But Marnie had grown on Gina, despite their differences. Because beneath those pristine Southern manners had been an admirable devotion to doing the right thing, being accountable for your actions and always believing the best of people. And then Gina had gone and mucked everything up by jumping into bed with the brother Marnie idolised—and discovered in the process she was hardly the poster girl for mature relationships either.

But if there was something Gina regretted even more than giving in to temptation that night, it was taking that bright, trusting light out of Marnie’s eyes. Something that now appeared to be gone for good.

‘Hi, Gina.’ Marnie sent her a polite smile as she slid into the booth. ‘Are we early?’ she asked, probably hoping Reese—who was never late—would magically materialise and get them out of this predicament.

If only. ‘Reese can’t make it. Something came up, apparently.’ Gina took a judicious sip of her coffee, resisting the urge to say the something was probably a key part of the hot ex-husband’s anatomy.

‘And I’ll bet I know what it is,’ Marnie murmured, making Gina choke on her coffee. ‘I swear, you’d think Mason had invented sex the way Reese gushes about the guy.’

Gina put down her cup, a grin forming despite the underlying tension. ‘Gushes being the operative word.’

Marnie gave a small laugh. ‘All I hope is that it’s more than just sex this time around—because there is no way I am repackaging a billion truffles again in this lifetime.’

‘Amen to that,’ Gina said, toasting Marnie with her coffee mug and smiling at the memory of how the four of them had spent two solid hours taking table-top truffles out of engagement-ring-style boxes when Reese had decided to reinvent her aborted wedding to Dylan into a celebration of... Well, no one had ever really figured that out.

‘To be frank,’ Gina added, ‘if I ever see another truffle before I die, it’ll be too soon.’

Marnie’s lips curved, but Gina could see the concern in her pure blue eyes—and had the sudden realisation that she hadn’t given Marnie her due in the last month.

Seemed they’d both done quite a lot of growing up in the last decade.

After ordering herself an iced tea and some wheat toast from the blushing waiter, Marnie got right down to business, tugging a smartphone out of her briefcase. ‘Okay, I’ve narrowed a couple of possible venues down that can accommodate a party of seven on the required date, can provide a wedding cake and meet our “classy but not too intimidating” requirements.’ She pressed a few buttons, her gaze flicking to Gina. ‘My personal favourite is the Tribeca Terrace. Do you know it?’

Gina nodded. ‘Sure, chic and funky with sensational food and a dance floor—so Cassie and Tuck can get up close and pornographic for our benefit.’

Marnie’s lips quirked again. ‘It’s pricey, but totally worth it.’

‘Done.’

Marnie blinked. ‘What do you mean, done? We haven’t gone through the other options.... And don’t you have any venues you want to put forward?’

‘I had a couple.’ Gina shrugged. ‘But none of them are as perfect as the TriBee,’ she said, giving it the nickname it had acquired in the foodie press. ‘You nailed it in one. Why shop around?’

The waiter arrived with Marnie’s toast and tea and made a bit of a production about asking Gina if she had everything she needed. As he left Gina noticed Marnie’s gaze follow him, before she concentrated on buttering her toast. There was no censure in the look, just a simple acknowledgement. But Gina could still hear the words running through Marnie’s head even if the well-mannered woman would rather bite off her own tongue than voice them.

There goes another of Gina’s conquests.

Ten years ago, Gina would have played up to that assessment and enjoyed it—and quite probably taken full advantage of whatever the young waiter had to offer. But not any more.

Placing her coffee mug back on the table, she waited for Marnie to stop buttering. When the bright blue eyes finally met hers, she could see the tension around the edges of Marnie’s mouth and realised that—while she still had a low-grade urge to throttle Reese—their mutual friend had been right. They needed to get this out in the open, if they were going to have any chance of getting past it and repairing the friendship between the four of them the rest of the way.

Marnie and her would never be best friends, Gina had already screwed that up for good, but surely they could be more than just civil to each other. A bit more warmth between the two of them would also take the pressure off the other two—and as both Reese and Cassie had weddings coming up, she couldn’t think of a better gift to give them both.

‘I’m sure we both know why Reese didn’t show this morning,’ she said evenly. ‘And for once I’m not convinced it has anything to do with her inability to leave Mason’s bed first thing in the morning while he’s still in it.’

Marnie’s eyes widened a fraction. She raised her napkin to her mouth to remove an invisible crumb. ‘Reese has always been a peace-maker.’

She put the napkin down, folded it carefully.

‘But I’m confident she’ll stop trying to be Mother Teresa when we turn up at Amber’s Bridal tomorrow having booked an awesome venue for Cassie’s party without having gotten into a catfight in the Grand Central Diner.’

Gina’s lips curved at the droll statement. ‘True, but funnily enough...’ She took a deep breath, fortified by the odd feeling of connection between them—because right about now it seemed they both had a low-grade urge to throttle Reese. ‘I think I can probably go one better than that.’

Wariness crossed Marnie’s face. ‘How?’

‘By apologising for all the crappy things I said to you on our last night together—which were cruel and juvenile and totally unnecessary.’ She huffed out a steady breath when Marnie remained silent.

Now for the biggie.

‘And more importantly by apologising for seducing your brother the week beforehand—which was equally cruel and juvenile and totally unnecessary.’ Even if it had felt very necessary at the time.

‘My only excuse is that I was in a bad place at the time.’ A bad place that had got a whole lot worse in the months after that night. ‘And I did bad things as a result—including being a heartless, reckless, selfish, philandering tart. And although I can’t promise that I won’t do bad things again—because if there’s one thing I despise more than a heartless tart, it’s a hypocrite—I’m trying a lot harder not to.’

Marnie’s face remained unnervingly impassive, before she gave her head a little nod. ‘Thanks for the apology. But if you were being cruel and juvenile, I was too. And...’ She paused. ‘While I could have done without such a graphic description of my brother’s...’ she coughed, clearly struggling to get the word out ‘...assets, you didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.’ She looked down at her hands, which were mangling the carefully folded napkin. ‘Carter was the one that cheated, Gina. Not you.’ Her eyes met Gina’s, disillusionment clouding the blue depths. ‘And after seeing his marriage die a slow, painful death and seeing what a player he’s become since his divorce—I don’t think you should take all the blame.’

A player? Carter?

Gina’s throat constricted as the memories she’d filed carefully away in the ‘biggest disaster of my life’ box had a coming-out party.

Yes, he’d been devastatingly handsome, and moody and magnetic and sexy enough to make any woman salivate uncontrollably, even an accomplished flirt like her. But beneath that potent machismo had been a man who, like Marnie, had been determined to do the right thing—who had been honourable and sensitive and touchingly reserved, despite the hunger burning in those cool blue eyes. How could that man be a player?

Nobody could change that much. Even in ten years....

‘Reese told me Carter had got a divorce,’ she said. The guilt she’d worked hard to mask ever since Reese had told her the news throbbed in her belly like a lump of radioactive waste—alongside an inappropriate rush of heat, which she studiously ignored.

‘I’m sorry about that too,’ she said. It would be conceited of her to think she was wholly responsible for the failure of Carter’s marriage, but she still had to shoulder her share of the blame. She’d slept with an engaged man and then tried to push the blame onto the only innocent party in the whole thing, Carter’s fiancée, Missy.

‘You don’t need to apologise,’ Marnie remarked with sober certainty. ‘The divorce wasn’t your fault—they had a lot of other...’ her voice trailed off ‘...issues.’

‘It’s nice of you to say that.’ And nicer still to see that she actually meant it. ‘But I was there when it happened, and I know how hard he tried to resist me.’

Marnie shot her hands out in the shape of a T. ‘All right, time out, because you are straying back into “things I will never need to know about my brother” territory, here.’

Gina huffed out a laugh at the look of horror on Marnie’s face. Maybe the Southern Belle had grown up, but it seemed she still had the same demure sensibilities when it came to discussing her big brother’s sex life.

‘The point is...’ Marnie put her hands down ‘...I’m ashamed of the things I said that night too.’ She drew a circle on the table. ‘I wanted to put all the blame on you, because blaming Carter would mean admitting he didn’t belong on the pedestal I’d put him on.’ She sighed. ‘We’re not close these days.’

Gina felt the renewed stab of regret. ‘Oh, Marnie, I’m so sorry. Did I do that too?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Marnie said, sounding adamant. ‘It would have happened anyway once I got older and wiser and realised what he was really like.’ The wry smile on Marnie’s lips did nothing to dispel the thoughtful expression. ‘You know, I don’t remember you having such an overdeveloped guilt complex.’