More than a Convenient Bride

If there had been anything to tell, Julie probably would have.

There was a rap on the dressing room door and Lark’s sister Skye stepped into the dressing room. She looked surprisingly healthy for someone still recovering from a near-fatal car crash during the tornado. Luc had performed an emergency cesarean to save her unborn child, and her injuries had been so severe she’d been in a coma for four months. Until Skye was well enough to care for her daughter, Lark had taken responsibility for Baby Grace, who was the sweetest most adorable infant Julie had ever seen.

“It’s time,” Skye said, then sighed wistfully. “You look beautiful. Luc is a lucky guy.”

Julie took a good look at herself in the mirror, spinning in a circle to get every angle. Not half-bad.

Though she usually kept her hair pulled up into a ponytail, she’d worn it down today, in loose, soft curls that tumbled across her shoulders. She’d even put on her mother’s diamond earrings. It was the only thing of her mother’s that she had left. In his grief after she died, Julie’s father had removed every trace of his wife from their home. Photos, personal items, anything that reminded him of her. Julie had only been four at the time, but she remembered sitting on her parents’ bed, crying as she watched their housekeeper clear out her mother’s closet, shoving her clothes into black trash bags.

Between his wife’s death and having a newborn infant to care for, her father seemed to forget that he had another child who was mixed up and lonely and desperate for the unconditional love and affection her mother had always given so freely. Within weeks of her death he’d hired a nanny and began traveling extensively. He had never been what anyone would consider an attentive father, but after her mother’s death he had become virtually nonexistent.

Julie breathed deep to ease the knot of sadness in her chest, the burn of tears behind her eyes. Now was not the time to think about her less than ideal childhood. God forbid she start crying and ruin her makeup.

“How are you doing?” Lark asked. “You nervous?”

Julie shook her head. This wasn’t going to be a real marriage, so what reason did she have to be nervous?

Though they wouldn’t be married for long, she had insisted on a prenup. To protect not just his interests, but her own, as well. She’d never been the type to flaunt her wealth, but with the inheritance her father had left her and her sister, and a little savvy investing, Julie was pretty much set for life. A simple, no frills life, but that was fine with her. She didn’t need much.

“So, are you ready?” Lark asked, and Julie turned to find her and Skye watching her expectantly.

After one more quick glance in the mirror, she nodded and told her friends, “Let’s do this.”

Four (#ulink_50d00c83-932e-53ab-81b9-93d6e4fb12a3)

With so little time to plan the wedding, Drew had volunteered to put a guest list together for Luc. But now, as Luc stood with Drew at his side, waiting for the ceremony to begin, scanning row upon row of guests idly chatting, he was beginning to think that had been a bad idea. It seemed as if half the town was there.

He leaned in close to Drew and said in a harsh whisper, “This is your idea of small and intimate?”

“Just helping to make it convincing,” Drew said with a wry smile. It was obvious to Luc that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Are you nervous?”

“Of course not.” What reason did he have to be? This was nothing more than a business arrangement between friends. In fact, he felt exceedingly calm. A little bored even.

“All grooms get nervous,” Drew persisted.

“But I’m not a real groom, am I?”

“Look around you. This sure looks real to me. Besides, you can’t argue with a marriage license.”

Okay, so maybe he was a real groom, but not in the traditional sense. They would be married, but not really married. Together, but not really together.

Luc glanced over at his mother, who sat in her wheelchair in the front row, an encouraging smile on her face. When he told her about the marriage she was beside herself excited, even when he explained the true nature of the situation.

“It’s just a way to keep Julie in the States,” he’d explained.

“Of course it is,” she’d said with a twinkle in her eyes, as if she knew something he didn’t. If she believed it to be anything more than a friend helping out another friend, if she had her heart set on Luc and Julie falling in love, she would be sorely disappointed.

Stella Daniels, who was officiating, touched Luc’s shoulder and said softly, “Words cannot express how happy I am for the two of you. And forgive me for saying this, but it’s about damned time.”

He kept a smile planted firmly on his lips, but he felt a distinct twinge of guilt. He’d heard many similar remarks this past week, and as much as he hated the idea of lying to everyone, he and Julie had no choice.

The music started and everyone turned to the doorway where Lark stood, carrying a small bouquet of miniature yellow roses—Julie’s favorite color.

Here we go, Luc thought, his stomach bottoming out.

Okay, so, maybe he was a little nervous.

Lark made her trip down the aisle, but Luc’s attention remained fixed on the doorway, anticipation tying his stomach into knots. Then the “Wedding March” started and Julie appeared in the doorway, and all Luc could think was wow.

Rarely did he see Julie with her hair down, and in all the time he’d known her he couldn’t recall ever seeing her in a dress. Cut several inches above the knee, it was just long enough to be tasteful, but short enough to showcase her toned, suntanned calves and a little bit of thigh...

Whoa, he thought, as his pulse picked up speed. This was Julie he was gawking at, his best friend. But damn, who could blame him? She looked stunning and sexy and as his eyes met and locked on hers, he experienced a distinct tug of sexual attraction. Bordering on red-hot lust.

Talk about getting caught up in the moment. If this kept up he was going to need a serious attitude adjustment.

Everyone stood and she started down the aisle, walking alone, holding a single long-stemmed yellow rose, looking cool and composed, as if she did this sort of thing all the time. This may have been a “pretend” wedding, but in that moment it couldn’t have felt more real to him, and despite her cool exterior, when Julie faced him and he took her hands, they were trembling.

Stella began the ceremony, but he was so focused on Julie, the mayor’s words all seemed to run together. It was almost as if he was really seeing Julie for the first time. And though he’d been to more weddings than he could count, as they recited their vows, he realized he’d never really grasped the gravity of the words. Real marriage or not, as he slid the platinum band on her ring finger—she’d balked at the idea of a diamond—he pledged to himself that as long as they were married, he would honor those vows.

Then came the part he’d been most anticipating. The kiss to seal the deal. They had to make it look convincing. Too chaste or formal and it might make people suspicious; too passionate and Julie might crack him one. Probably not here at the wedding, but later, when they were alone.

There was another possibility. One he hadn’t truly considered until just now. What if he kissed her, and he liked it? So much so that he wanted to do it again. And even more intriguing was the possibility that she might like it, too.

* * *

“You may kiss the bride,” Stella said, and Julie’s pulse jumped as Luc, seemingly in ultra slow motion, bent his head. The entire ceremony had been a bit surreal, as if she were standing outside of her body watching herself. But this? This was very real.

Her chin lifted in anticipation, and she began to wonder if this was something they should have rehearsed ahead of time. No one’s first kiss should have an audience, yet here they stood with dozens of pairs of eyes planted firmly on them.

Oh boy, what had they gotten themselves into?

Luc reached up, his hand gently cupping her cheek, and her knees went weak. His lips brushed softly across hers, seeming to linger undecidedly between obligation and curiosity, and a sound, like a soft moan, slipped unexpectedly from her lips. Without realizing she’d even moved, her hands were on his chest and curling into the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer. If it hadn’t been for the sudden round of applause, and the hoots and howls from their guests, she would have gone right on kissing him. As their lips parted and she looked up into his eyes, she could see that he was equally perplexed. And as lame and juvenile as it sounded, she heard herself saying softly, “Wow, you’re really good at that.”

A wry grin tipped up the corners of his lips. “So are you.”

Her kissing skills, and his, were irrelevant. So why the shiver of pleasure? The weak-kneed feeling of anticipation? There was nothing to anticipate. They were married and she was a legal resident. As devious plans go, this one was playing out exactly as they’d expected. The hard part was over.

With all the handshaking and hugs, the walk back down the aisle took so long that when they finally made it to the room where the reception was being held, people were already sipping very expensive champagne and nibbling on the appetizers catered by a restaurant in town that had reopened its doors just last week. Though she distinctly remembered Luc saying it would be small and intimate, it looked to Julie as if nearly every member of the Cattleman’s Club and their significant others were in attendance.

She looked up at Luc. “Small and intimate, huh?”

“I put Drew in charge of the guest list,” he said, nabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one to her. “So if you have a bone to pick, it’s with him. And forgive me for saying it, but you look positively stunning.”

Forgive him? His words made her feel dizzy with pleasure. “If it wasn’t for Lark’s help, you would have married a raccoon.”

He regarded her with a curious expression.

She laughed and shook her head. “Never mind.”