License to Thrill

Melanie glimpsed her own rare smile in the mirror, then eyed the chair behind her. But no matter how much she wanted to rest her swollen feet, she didn’t dare sit down. Not unless she decided to let out the dress herself in a way that would guarantee she couldn’t wear it two days from now.

Saturday. Her wedding.

Her throat tightened, choking off her airway. She closed her eyes to ward off the unwanted reaction. Cold feet, that’s all it was. A major case of cold feet. What more could it be?

“You can handle this, Mellie. I don’t think I’ve met a braver woman than you. Aside from my Mary, of course.”

The words conjured up the image of Sean’s kind, time-marked face and sober green eyes.

Sean. Just Sean. She didn’t know his last name. But his presence had been the only thing that had kept her sane during that long week in the hospital. Odd, she thought, because he had been little more than a stranger. A visitor, there for another patient, who had entered the wrong room and found her alone and crying. It was the only time she’d been left alone by her mother, Joanie and Craig, who had all meant well but hadn’t a clue how to handle an injured secret service agent whose heart was breaking for the only person who hadn’t visited.

Sean hadn’t pried. He hadn’t tried to comfort her. He’d simply handed her a tissue and sat next to her bed as if it had been her he had come to visit all along.

Picking up a bouquet sample, Melanie listlessly straightened a silk lily of the valley in the all-white waterfall bouquet. She hadn’t seen Sean since she had been discharged, and hadn’t expected to. But thinking about him made her realize how much she missed her father. Made her selfishly yearn to have him there if only for an hour or so. If only to walk her down the aisle.

Blinking back unexpected tears, she refocused on the bouquet. Merely looking at the fake flowers made her feel like a fake herself. She turned away, not sure she wanted to see the woman reflected in the smooth glass. Three months ago…

“Three months ago you were a fool in love with your career. And an even bigger fool in lust with Marc McCoy,” she said softly.

She tossed the bouquet to the velvet chair and reached back to undo her dress, but she could barely move her arms. Joanie had trussed her in. It looked as if Joanie would have to let her out.

She sighed. “Just peachy.”

Joanie poked her head around the corner. “Whatcha need?”

Melanie sighed with relief then tried to pinch the tiniest bit of fabric away from her waist. “You were right. It needs letting out.”

“I was afraid of that.” Joanie came to stand behind her, assessing the damage. “I really hate to tell you I told you so, but—”

“You told me so.” Melanie watched her sister slide into her role as seamstress. While she may have spent the past eight years bucking tradition, Joanie had always been content with her life. More than that, she seemed to cherish the role she’d created for herself as everyone’s best friend.

It struck Melanie as odd that she should be the one getting married when her sister was still inexplicably single.

Joanie sighed wistfully. “I really do love this dress.” She smoothed the puckered seam. “I think it’s the one I would pick, you know, if I was in your place.” A shadow briefly moved over her pretty, freckled face. “You’re lucky, you know? I don’t think there’s a time in my life when I can’t remember Craig being around. And he’s always had such a crush on you.” She brushed a strand of red hair from her cheek. “You couldn’t ask for a better man….”

Her soft words drifted off. Melanie watched her sister, wondering if she was going to mention that the most she and Craig had ever been were friends. The best of friends, but just friends. But her sister appeared to be thinking of something else entirely.

“Joanie?”

Her sister blinked then stared at Melanie in the mirror. “Sorry, must have drifted off there. I haven’t had more than a couple hours sleep in the past two days.”

Melanie looked at her a little more closely. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

“Sure? Of course I’m sure.” She tried to pinch the back of the dress. “Wow, exactly how much weight have you put on since last month?”

She gently batted Joanie away from where she poked at her stomach. “Not all that much.”

“Is it that time of the month?”

“No.” Melanie wished it were that simple. If only she could tell Joanie why, exactly, she had grown out of her dress. But doing so would undermine Craig’s generosity and would open up a whole different can of worms.

Two more days. Two more days and she could tell her sister and her mother.

Joanie pulled back. “No doubt about it. The seams need to be let out at least a half inch.”

Melanie swallowed hard. The formal rehearsal dinner her mother had insisted on was only… She glanced at her watch. “Oh, God, I’ve only got a half hour to get to Bedford Inn.”

Just then, an electronic bell rang, followed by a too-innocent, “Yoo-hoo!”

Joanie caught Melanie’s gaze in the mirror.

“Mother,” they said in unison.

“I’ll take care of her,” Melanie said, a heartbeat later. “You go finish up whatever you have to, so you can help me out at this dinner.”

“Hmm. I don’t know. A choice between dinner with Mother and your soon-to-be in-laws or playing voodoo doll with the bride next door? Tough call.”

Melanie latched onto Joanie’s arm. “Please don’t make me go through this alone.”

Her sister’s green eyes widened in mild surprise. “Melanie, you’re not facing a firing squad. Even if you were, you would be the one person I know who could handle it.” She covered Melanie’s hand with her own. “Okay, I’ll be there.” She laughed quietly. “But I have to say, you’re on your own for the honeymoon.”

Honeymoon. Melanie’s stomach tightened to the point of pain.

She gathered fistfuls of her full skirt in her hands and led the way from the room. She’d like to say she was surprised by her mother’s impromptu visit, but really couldn’t. Her mother had always been good at reading her. She didn’t doubt Wilhemenia Weber had picked up on the emotional turmoil she’d been going through for the past few months. And if she knew her mother, Wilhemenia wouldn’t stop until she found out what was going on.

IN HIS JEEP outside the bridal shop, Marc McCoy absently rubbed the back of his neck, then flicked the air-conditioning on. He didn’t know if it was the heat or his anxiety about what he was planning to do that made the temperature in the all-terrain vehicle intolerable, but if Mel took much longer, he was going to stalk in there after her. He grimaced. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d sit here and wait just as he had for the past forty-five minutes. All because he’d been too wrapped up in his thoughts when she’d gone in to see his plan through. Eight solid hours of planning, and he’d been knocked out of commission just at the thought of coming face-to-face with her for the first time in three months.

He directed the cool air vent toward his face, then let his gaze drift to the two glossy magazines on the passenger seat. He resisted the urge to grab the first one to find out exactly “what a woman looks for in a man.” It wasn’t long ago he wouldn’t have been caught dead reading this stuff. But Mel’s absence in his life had left him with a gaping hole and long, endless nights that he tried to fill with reason.

He grabbed the magazines and shoved them under his seat.

He looked at his watch, then returned his attention to the shop.

He didn’t know why, exactly, he had hesitated when he first spotted Melanie leaving her mother’s house. For Pete’s sake, he didn’t even know why he hadn’t marched right into the house the moment he got into town.

Frustrated with his hesitation, he shut off the car engine, then reached for the door handle. His hand froze on the sun-warmed metal. Melanie’s mother was walking down the street looking like a woman on a mission.

“Uh-oh.”

Instantly, he was reminded why he hadn’t gone into the small house on Cherry Blossom Road. Because of Mel’s mother.

What was she doing here? In order to do what he had to, Mel had to be alone. She’d gone into the shop alone, and he’d expected her to come out the same way. What he hadn’t banked on was Wilhemenia Weber, who looked as though she’d come fresh from sucking on a dozen lemons, deciding to pay a visit.

She could be here to see Joanie, Marc thought. I hope she’s here to visit Joanie.

Five minutes later, the late afternoon sun reflected off the bridal shop door, and he sat up straighter.

“Show time.” Mel stepped onto the brick sidewalk. At least it looked like Mel. Grimacing, he slid down his sunglasses and squinted at the woman leaving. Yep, it was her all right. Minus the jeans, T-shirt and blue blazer she’d been wearing when she went in. Now she was decked out in one very short dress. But it was definitely her. It’s about time. What did she do? Decide to wear her purchase home? He reached for the door handle again. If he lived to be two hundred, he’d never understand what it was with women and clothes. He still had at least eight pairs of Mel’s shoes cluttering the closet in his town house. Keeping his gaze focused on Mel, he began to climb out…then froze.