Play Date

Cover

Play Date

Bam!

When quarterback Johnny Spurling cancels his blind date with Rachel Gillette on account of matrimony, she cheerfully agrees to a substitution—Sean Decker, another hunk in pro football’s feared Triple Threat. But love doesn’t spark between the adorable kicker and the kindergarten teacher, and she wonders if she’s destined to sit on the bench forever.

No one is crazy enough to match Rachel with the third member of the Triple Threat. Bam Bannerman is Thor-like of body, potty of mouth, and hot as hell. And when he spots the classy blonde at Johnny’s wedding, he’s determined to have some fun. Sure, she’s prim and proper, but he’s Bam, isn’t he? So no problem.

To Rachel, who’s tired of being ignored and rejected, the rowdy halfback is a hilarious change of pace. They sneak away, he rocks her world, then she fondly bids him farewell.

But Bam isn’t done scoring, and before Rachel knows what’s hit her she’s enjoying weekly hookups with the irrepressible stud. When a heartsick Sean signals he might want to get back into the game, she suddenly finds herself with her hands full—and discovers her arms, and maybe even her heart, are full too.

Title Page

Copyright

Play Date

Kate Donovan

Copyright © 2014 by Kate Donovan

Material excerpted from Play by Play copyright © 2013 by Kate Donovan

Material excerpted from Playing for Keeps copyright © 2014 by Kate Donovan

Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

Published by Beyond the Page at Smashwords

Beyond the Page Books

are published by

Beyond the Page Publishing

www.beyondthepagepub.com

ISBN: 978-1-940846-28-6

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the city of San Diego, California,

where wonderful things happen—on and off the field.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Excerpt from Play by Play

Excerpt from Playing for Keeps

Books by Kate Donovan

About the Author

Chapter 1

Two nights before his best friend’s wedding, Sean Decker sat in a dark corner of his favorite bar and wondered what his problem was. The groom—quarterback Johnny Spurling—had made a joke at the bachelor party the previous evening, accusing Sean of always falling for some other guy’s girl instead of finding one of his own. Everyone had laughed and moved on.

Everyone but Sean. And possibly Johnny. Because there was a grain of truth to it, wasn’t there?

Sean’s crush on the QB’s bride-to-be, Erica McCall, was hardly a secret. He was openly smitten with the flirty ad exec. Would he act on it? Hell, no. It was all in his head. And she was a great sport about it. And she smelled so good, and understood him so well . . .

Get a grip, Decker, he warned himself.

It was all in good fun, at least to a point. But the pattern couldn’t be ignored. Even his first sexual score had been with another guy’s girl. A pretty college student whose family owned a neighboring ranch had cried on his shoulder when her boyfriend—a college football star—cheated on her. She had returned the favor by cheating with sixteen-year-old Sean, giving him a great night but starting a not-so-great tradition.

Then there was his all-time biggest infatuation—which was still ongoing but hopefully known only to himself—with Kerrie Cosner, wife of Coz Cosner. Coz was the coach of the Portland Lancers. Sean’s team. Meaning it was anathema just to look at her, much less lust. It violated the NFL’s most sacred edict: Don’t screw with the coach’s wife.

That kind of fantasy football could get a guy ostracized if not flat-out cut.

Until this week, he hadn’t actually worried about his bizarre crushes. Sure, they were embarrassing, and sure, these weren’t the only three examples. But he had dated lots of single girls too, and had even fallen for a couple of them. So no big deal.

Now, thanks to his recent blind date with kindergarten teacher Rachel Gillette, he needed to figure out what was going on. Rachel was the most beautiful female he had ever met. A tall, willowy blonde. Classy. Intelligent. Sweet. Vetted by mutual friends. Looking for a relationship. And best of all, single.

They had met for brunch on Sunday and hit it off pretty well. Spent the day together, sharing horror stories about dating, explaining their careers to each other. Laughing, commiserating. She had shown signs she wanted to go to the next level. And so did he. So he had confidently made his move.

But they blew the head tilt. Both of them. For a hilarious few seconds they simply couldn’t connect on the kiss, and by the time they did, they were laughing sheepishly. Apparently it wasn’t going to happen. Or at least not right away. They could be friends. Maybe even friends who slept together at some point. But scorching-hot romance? Probably not.

Was he actually this obsessed with Erica? To ignore a gorgeous babe like Rachel? It didn’t seem funny anymore. And he was pretty sure Johnny wouldn’t think so either.

A movement on the far side of the bar caught his eye, and he sat up straighter, fixing on the petite blonde with the curvy body. For that instant, she looked like Kerrie Cosner, but of course, it couldn’t be. Still, whoever she was she had his attention, especially because she was alone. Given his track record, that was a good sign, wasn’t it?

She really did resemble the coach’s wife, although ten times flashier, with red streaks of artificial color in her hair that echoed the red of her sexy dress and the color on her fingernails. And because of that, he realized it must be Kerrie’s twin sister, Melody. The twin had a reputation for outrageous outfits. For bar hopping. For being bolder than her sister.

And best of all, for being unmarried.

Identical copies physically, the twins were reputedly opposites in terms of personality, so he reminded himself Kerrie’s allure was her vulnerability. Which meant this scantily clad party girl didn’t fit the bill. But his body didn’t seem to care. The bolder, more adventurous version suited him fine, at least for certain purposes.

He wasn’t proud of that, but there it was.

The pretty female looked completely disoriented. Then her gaze locked with his and she smiled a smile so hot it blasted him out of his seat.

Now he wanted her for sure. And she seemed to share the urge because she threaded her way through the pulsing crowd, moving her hot, sensuous body toward him, never once breaking eye contact. And while he wanted to do the same—to meet her halfway—he cautioned himself to stay put. Melody might not be the coach’s wife, but she was still a relative of sorts. A sister-in-law, right? If Sean actually hooked up with her, and he was praying he would, it would be safer if she made the first move.

After that, he’d happily make the rest of them.

The only flaw in his strategy was that he could hardly breathe by the time she reached him, so he just stood and stared down at her, transfixed.

You’re Sean Decker, right? The kicker? She threw her arms around his neck. Oh, thank God. I’m so glad you’re here.

Yeah, me too, he croaked.

I left my purse in the taxi when I paid the driver. All my money, my phone, everything. I wasn’t sure what to do. Now here you are. It’s like—well, like kismet, right?

Yeah. He cleared his throat. We’ll call them and they’ll bring it back. Or I can drive you there to pick it up. No big deal.

Really? She stared at him as though he had announced a cure for cancer. Then she embraced him again, her voluptuous body pressed against his. That’s so sweet of you.

Yeah. He pretended not to notice the great view down her front, even though it was clearly meant to be noticed. And just to prove his mind was on her dilemma, not her breasts, he pulled out his phone and did a quick search for cab companies in the area. Do you recognize the name? he asked, showing her the display.

She touched the third listing with her fingertip, activating the link.

It rang, then a tired voice asked, Can you hold?

Sure, Sean said, trying not to grin. He wanted to tell them to take as long as they wanted, because he never wanted this moment to end. Or at least not until it morphed into an even better, more naked moment.

I’m parched, she said with a hopeful smile. Can I have a sip of your beer?

You want a drink?

I wouldn’t mind a martini. As long as you’ll eat my olive.

He stared, wondering if she knew how dirty that sounded.

Then the cab company came back on the line, saying, How can we help you?

Your driver took off with my friend’s purse, he explained. You just dropped her off at the Bristol Inn.

Oh, right, we heard. The blonde. Our driver can circle back and meet you in the parking lot. Anything else?

No, we’re good. He ended the call, then explained, They’ll be here in a few minutes. I’ll get your drink—

Wait, Sean. She swayed against him. Let’s go outside, please? So I can thank you while we wait. Unless you’d rather not, she added, sliding a mischievous hand down his torso until she was stroking his responsive alter ego. But it seems like you want to.

Yeah. He couldn’t manage another word, but words didn’t seem necessary, and since he had already paid his tab plus tip, he planted his hand on her backside and guided her toward the exit.

A small beacon of sense still flashed in his brain, warning him this was the coach’s sister-in-law, but he didn’t care. He had lusted for Kerrie for so long, and the twin looked so much like her. Felt just liked he’d imagined her feeling. And as a bonus, was unmarried and hot for sex. And so as soon as they burst out of the bar, he pulled her alongside the building, then behind a Dumpster, and kissed her hungrily.

She went wild, going for his goods again, but this time inside his pants. I had condoms in my purse, she told him breathlessly. But they’re in the taxi.

We’re good, he promised, fishing one out of his jacket pocket. Then he explained with a husky chuckle, Emergency supplies.

Thank God. She dropped to her knees, unzipped his fly, pleasured him with her mouth for a few moments, then rolled the condom onto him and stood back up, kissing him again while wrapping one leg around his waist.

Damn, Kerrie, he whispered, thrusting himself into her, only dimly aware that he had just said Kerrie, not Melody. To his relief, she didn’t seem to notice. Probably because she was shrieking softly, taking off in record time as he continued to enjoy her. Continued to call her Kerrie. It didn’t seem to matter. She just kept coming and coming and coming, and finally, so did he.

Fuck, he whispered, honestly impressed.

I know. It was perfect. She gave a blissful sigh. I always knew you’d be this way, Sean. I always watched you, and I always knew.

Yeah? He wanted to know more. Watched him when? For how long? Was it possible he’d been lusting after the wrong sister all this time?

A horn honked from the direction of the parking lot and she gave him a quick kiss while straightening her dress. I’ll get the purse. You stay here. She hesitated, then asked, You have a car, right?

Yeah, I’ve got a car.

We can go to your place? For more?

Yeah. He caught her by the waist as she started toward the cab. Hey, Melody, wait. I know you heard me call you Kerrie. And I’m really sorry. You’re amazing, and it was just—well, my bad.

She pulled free and stared, her expression blank. Then she asked in a whisper, You think I’m Melody?

Huh?

Oh, Sean . . . Her lower lip quivered. "How could you?"

Wait! He reached for her as she backed away, but her tearful glare warned him to stop. Then she ran for the cab while he just stared after her, knowing he should do more. Say more. Go after her and beg forgiveness. But he was frozen in place by one simple, unbelievable realization.

He had just had sex with his coach’s wife.

Chapter 2

Thanks again for coming at the last minute, Sean told Rachel Gillette as she expertly tied his bow tie in her suite at the Ashton Hotel. We’ll have fun once my duties as best man are out of the way.

"You mean your duties as one of the best men," she corrected him with an arched eyebrow.

You really don’t like that idea, do you?

It’s crazy. This whole wedding is crazy. Her denim blue eyes twinkled. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Taking a step back, she surveyed her handiwork. "You’re so adorable, Sean. They should put a figurine of you on the wedding cake."

Since she was looking him up and down, he took a minute to do the same to her. Even in her modest bathrobe she was a stunner. Tall and graceful with a demeanor that practically produced its own aura. It still shocked him he’d had the nerve to call her the day before the wedding and beg her to fly up to Portland and be his date. He hadn’t planned it, but after that literal screw-up in the parking lot with his coach’s wife, he had needed to re-set his thermostat fast.

Don’t think about Kerrie, he warned himself, but it was too late. He hadn’t been able to forget it. Forget her. He had hurt her feelings. Worse, he had put his career in jeopardy. Not that she would rat him out. They had shared a special connection, hadn’t they? Plus, she seemed so sweet, so innocent. Even when she was rolling that condom on him—

Sean? Rachel murmured. What are you thinking about?

Oh, sorry. My mind just—well, there are a ton of details.

You should be downstairs already. The ceremony starts in thirty minutes, and you need to be up front before the bride makes her entrance.

She isn’t making an entrance. We’re all gonna be onstage together from the beginning.

Hmm?

He chuckled at her subtle displeasure. The quintessential kindergarten teacher. Always at equilibrium, always measured, diligently keeping things proper and aboveboard.

So he assured her, We’ll be behind a curtain. Once the audience is seated, the curtain opens and, trust me, you’ll be impressed. Erica poured her heart into this and she’s mega-talented.

"I’m starting to think you should have married her, Rachel said, her smile teasing him. Is the other best man in love with her too?"

Rachel—

I’m kidding. Go on. She’s probably panicking. And the groom might need moral support, right? We don’t want him backing out.

John never gets cold feet. Especially about Erica. So get dressed and we can make our entrance together.

I need another fifteen minutes, she protested. But I could give you a preview if you want. Just remember, I only had four hours to shop. She exhaled slowly, as though summoning her courage, then dashed to the bedroom.

Sean watched her in quiet amazement. Was she actually nervous? A killer babe like that? Then he remembered why she might have reason to feel insecure. She had been scheduled for a blind date with the groom but he had canceled due to his engagement to Erica. Was it possible she took that personally?

It probably hadn’t helped matters when Sean had been brought in as a replacement date, and then he had proven to be a dud as well. Hopefully he’d change that before the night was over.

• • •

After wriggling into the fancy party dress she really couldn’t afford, Rachel Gillette ordered herself to snip the price tag off, then stepped to a full-length mirror in the glamorous bathroom of her ultra-glamorous suite. Luckily, her date had paid for these accommodations as well as her other travel costs.

Her date, a.k.a. Sean Decker—the biggest disappointment of the year. Which was saying a lot, since Johnny Spurling had done his best to clinch that title. But Johnny at least had had the decency to dump her before he met her. Sean had met her, wined and dined her, and then basically dozed off.

Wasn’t that why she had blown two weeks’ take-home pay on this shimmery, salmon-toned halter dress? It was sophisticated but also daring with its long, contour-hugging skirt and generous slit up one side.

She wanted to look like a million dollars.

Or at least the fourteen hundred plus tax she had splurged on it.

All to impress two guys, both of whom were apparently in love with Erica McCall. Not that Rachel was jealous. More frustrated than anything else. And so, among her many motives for accepting an invitation to the wedding of Johnny and Erica was her desire to set eyes on the seemingly irresistible bride.

Slipping her feet into silver high-heeled sandals, she reminded herself Sean needed to get down to the ballroom and join the wedding entourage. There would be time to brush her hair and tweak her makeup once he was gone. So she hurried back to the living area then had to smile at her date.

Such a hunk. Lean and ripped, with the world’s most gorgeous green eyes and an easygoing manner that charmed her even when she was sure she should feel offended. Which was most of the time with this guy.

Sean?

He turned to her, then literally gaped. Wow.

Thanks.

You look like a mermaid.

"Oh, no."

It’s a good thing. He stepped up to her, resting his hands on her hips. Trust me, Rachel. It’s good.

She moistened her lips, uncertain even though she had promised herself she would go with whatever he threw at her. There was a nice buzz between them, wasn’t there? And at this point in her lackluster dating career, she couldn’t afford to be choosy.

Then his cell phone rang—a lilting cascade of bells—and he explained apologetically, That’s Erica’s ringtone. I’ve gotta take it.

Rachel laughed, mostly at herself.

The final humiliation.

Sean spoke into the phone in hushed tones. I know, I know. Yeah, it’s unbelievable. I’ll rescue you, I promise.

Ending the call, he stated the obvious. We need to get down there.

You’re going to rescue the bride? From the groom?

No. From your friend Beth.

What? Oh? She laughed, understanding that Beth Spurling must be trying to wrench control of the wedding from future sister-in-law Erica. For Erica’s own good, of course. Beth was married to the groom’s brother, and because of that link, coupled with a tornado-like personality, believed she was in charge of all things Spurling. It was Beth who had set up Rachel’s blind date with Johnny, followed by the blind date with Sean. And while Rachel had welcomed the assistance, she had known that if one of those dates led to a relationship, Beth would micro-manage it through courtship, wedding, childbirth and quite possibly divorce.

You’d better run, Sean. I love Bethie, but she’s scary.

Yeah, my buddy Bam calls her the Drill Sergeant. He chuckled. Erica’s pretty tough, but Beth’s tougher.

Then go. I need to fix my hair and my face. I’ll be there in time to get a good seat, I promise.

You look great already. He pulled her close again. I wish I could sit with you. But don’t be shy, okay? Grab a chair up front. And be sure to get a goody bag. Erica worked hard on them. It’s romantic, he added wistfully. Each guest gets an orange. I’ll tell you why later. Plus, everyone gets a bottle opener that plays the Cal fight song, since that’s where John and Erica went to school. And there’s a thumb drive with the on-air marriage proposal and the beer commercial they did together. You’ll like it.

Explain the orange now.

Later, he repeated. When we’re naked.

Won’t Erica mind? she drawled.

Sean seemed startled. Is that a joke?

I think so. With us, I’m never sure.

He must have liked that answer because he gave her a warm kiss on the mouth. There are two hundred guests and two hundred chairs. So get down there fast or you’ll get stuck in the back row.

She smiled as he headed toward the door. Then he surprised her again by turning and saying solemnly, This is gonna be our night, Rachel. I promise.

• • •

Since the wedding was in the hotel, Rachel left her cell phone and wallet behind, opting for a tiny beaded purse on a satin shoulder strap. It accommodated the key card for her room, her cheat sheet of names for the wedding party, a powder compact and some tissues for the inevitable weeping. She pictured herself in the third row. Maybe the fourth. She would give Beth and Jason Spurling encouraging smiles; would drool a little over Sean, because despite his faults he was sinfully gorgeous; and would enjoy this peek at the bride and groom.

As she rode the elevator to the ballroom on the mezzanine, she remembered Johnny Spurling’s phone call to her a few days before the Super Bowl. His deep, masculine baritone had been sexy, his words sweet and apologetic, as he explained how much he had been looking forward to their blind date, but he had met someone. A woman named Erica. And in a role reversal of epic proportions, she had swept him off his feet.

Enchanted, Rachel had assured him she wished him the best. She had also promised to keep the phone call a secret, since he hadn’t hinted to Erica that he would be proposing during the game, and more important, hadn’t yet told his sister-in-law Beth he was breaking the blind date. Rachel could still remember how even the confident quarterback seemed vaguely terrified of his brother’s wife.

Completely understandable, Rachel had assured him. She’s scary, but only out of love.

Johnny had laughed, thanked her for being a sport, and hung up. Several days later, Rachel had DVR’d the Super Bowl, playing it in the background while she did her housework so she could catch the proposal. She had wished she could wrangle an invitation to the wedding, just so she could eyeball Johnny and his Erica.

Now here she was.

Unfortunately, as she stepped off the elevator, she sensed trouble in paradise. Unless ushers were forcing guests to line up outside the ballroom doors, it appeared the facility was already overflowing.

What had Sean said? Two hundred guests, two hundred chairs?

There were at least two hundred laughing, half-drunk football hunks in the hallway alone.

These latecomers had no prayer of getting a seat. On the other hand, Rachel knew she could easily thread through this crowd, since she was kryptonite to strange men. Always had been, always would be. And while it usually bothered her, it came in handy at times like this.

So she stepped to the edge of the crowd and murmured Excuse me into the ear of the best-looking guy.

He turned to her, a grin on his face as though ready to say something rowdy. Then he flushed and stepped aside. Sorry! Hey, guys, get out of the way.

A few of his friends gave him annoyed looks, then they too sobered quickly and made way for her. It was humiliating but convenient, so she thanked them and continued into the ballroom, where the true scope of the problem presented itself.

There must have been four hundred people, most of them muscle-bound men, crammed into the space. Hotel staffers were hurriedly removing chairs to make standing room, and a skinny manager type was making pleading sounds into a microphone in front of a curtained dais, asking everyone to settle down.

Rachel’s heart ached for Erica. Then she felt a glimmer of hope as Beth Spurling’s sexy husband Jason—a cornerback for the San Diego Chargers, and a major stud—took the mic away from the hotel guy and literally growled at the crowd.

They settled down quickly, as though translating—and fearing—the guttural sound.

Jason eyed them grimly. "The bride says you can stay, even though I want to throw you out on your effing asses. So listen up. If you didn’t receive an invitation printed on fancy paper, do not touch those party favor bags. And keep the noise down until I say otherwise. Then we’ll open the bar and you can party. But trust me, I’m ready to rumble. So just give me a reason."

He glanced offstage as though listening to further instructions. Then he muttered, Oh, right. I’m supposed to thank you for coming. So thanks. And keep it down, will ya?

Rachel laughed proudly. What a hero. She had always liked Beth’s husband, and had imagined his brother—the groom—would look and sound like him. Not a bad package, all in all.

Still, she regretted arriving so late. No goody bag for her, apparently. Not that she needed a bottle opener. And she could duplicate the rest of the items by buying an orange and replaying the Super Bowl on her DVR. Her biggest challenge at this point was finding a good vantage point for the ceremony.

She could use her superpower to get closer to the front, but what would be the point? These football players were giants, so she’d need to sit in the first or second row and would end up with the bride and groom’s families and close friends, which wouldn’t feel right.

Better to try for high ground, so she threaded her way to a low wall that separated the ballroom from a lush atrium, which had apparently also been reserved for the wedding, probably as a place of retreat, but was now functioning as spillover. If she took off her shoes and chose a spot in the shadows, she could climb onto the wall and watch. It wasn’t ideal, but why should it be? It wasn’t her wedding, was it? This was Erica McCall’s day, and as long as it went perfectly for her, and Rachel caught a decent glimpse of it, she’d be satisfied.

• • •

She had barely found the perfect vantage point when a small orchestra to the side of the dais began playing Wagner’s Wedding March. And even though there was no bridal procession per se, it stirred the right juices. Then as Rachel watched in rapt anticipation, the huge satin drapery was pulled back and the perfectly arranged tableau was revealed.

Everyone in the audience, including the most drunken of the athletes, gasped. And so did Rachel.

The prospective bride and groom dominated the center in their traditional, resplendent clothing. Dark-haired Johnny Spurling was at least as hunky as his brother Jason, not that it mattered. It was the look on his face as he gazed down at his bride that made him a keeper in Rachel’s eyes.

Behind Johnny, and to his left, were the two best men. Sean looked awesome. No surprise there. Still, Rachel melted. With his fair hair and handsome face, he should have stolen the show. And in a way he did, but so did the other best man, who was a completely different kind of hot. Six full inches taller, infinitely broader, lean and ripped, the guy looked like Thor reborn. Long brown hair streaked with bronze. The face of a barbarian. The build of a gladiator.

And yet because both best men were wearing tuxedos, and so attentive to the bride and groom, they meshed perfectly.

They’re best friends, Rachel reminded herself. Sean, Johnny and this Bannerman guy.

And they were more than that, as she had learned during the Super Bowl. This was the vaunted Triple Threat of the Portland Lancers. Johnny as the quarterback. Sean as the kicker with the boot of gold. And Bannerman, who played some other position that apparently mattered too.

To the right of the couple and slightly behind the bride were the two maids of honor, one blonde, one brunette, both gowned in off-the-shoulder garnet-toned satin that coordinated perfectly with the red roses in Erica’s bouquet. On the edge of the tableau were threesomes in the best sense of the word, each composed of a pretty woman flanked by two handsome men.

Erica’s a genius, Rachel decided reverently. Two ushers to every bridesmaid? That should be the law.

One of the bridesmaids was Beth Spurling, Rachel’s friend and former colleague at the grade school where she worked. Beth was short, dark-haired and curvy. Dressed as now in dark red satin, she was actually stunning. Husband Jason in his tux was on her left, a distinguished-looking man on her right. Rachel couldn’t tear her gaze away long enough to check the cheat sheet in her purse, but she had a feeling this was a sports agent named Murphy.

Rachel knew the other bridesmaid too, although only as an acquaintance. Sophie James was the groom’s cousin, and there was a real danger she might steal the show with her confident smile and sexy shape. Her boyfriend, whom Rachel had met once and immediately lusted over, was Jake Dublin, a football coach. Hilarious, sweet, and dangerously subversive. On Sophie’s other side was a good-looking college-aged boy with dark hair. Even if Rachel hadn’t known that the bride’s brother would be in the wedding party, she would have recognized this kid as a McCall.

And then there was the McCall. The bride. One could admire the entire entourage and scan its constituent elements, but the eye was always drawn back to Erica. Whether by design—she was an advertising professional, after all—or just the sheer force of her happiness, it didn’t matter. She was the focal point, not just visually but emotionally.

The woman was stunning, with long dark curls swept up and pinned behind her head. Her white satin gown, made even more luscious by the deep red of her bouquet, was both strapless and plunging at the neckline, revealing beautiful shoulders and full breasts. Diamonds adorned her neck, her hair, her wrist, her earlobes and presumably her ring finger.

But it was the expression on her face as she gazed up at her future husband that stole the show. Not reverence. Not even hope. It was the promise of fun everlasting. Of adventures and lovemaking and excitement. He was the only person in her world at that moment, and from the answering look on his spellbound face, he knew it.

I am stealing every part of this, Rachel whispered to Erica through her tears. "It’s just too beautiful. I have to have it. Of course, I’ll have to find a husband first, but wow." She sniffled into a tissue, then strained to catch Sean’s eye, praying for a miracle.

Maybe he’d be inspired to find a bride of his own and they could try again. There was that little spark between them, wasn’t there? Couldn’t they work with that?

There was only one problem, she noted with amused distress. Sean did indeed have a love-struck look on his face. Unfortunately, he wasn’t directing it at his date.

He was looking at the bride.

• • •

Despite the crowds, Rachel managed to mingle a bit after the ceremony, first by infiltrating a friendly group composed of three couples: Erica’s boss and his wife, their beer client and his wife, and an art history professor and her husband. Predictably they sang the bride’s praises and told charming stories about her. Then they insisted Rachel tell them something about herself, so she launched into her favorite subject—her current crop of kindergarten students and the exciting new program her school was spearheading that provided more field trips and supplies in exchange for in-depth evaluations each quarter.

Sean stopped by for a few minutes, mostly to apologize and make sure she had a plate of hors d’oeuvres from the mobbed buffet table. He complained that Beth was running him ragged, but he’d get away soon and pay Rachel the attention she deserved. She was barely able to reassure him before he disappeared again.

After that, a brash woman approached her to compliment her dress, but it was only a ploy to lure her into another conversation group. And this time, it was more like a school of sharks. The woman and two male colleagues were sports agents and the other two guys were sports reporters. All they could talk about was the latest NFL scandal, which revolved around a revered coach who had been hiding a gambling problem and who had apparently profited from betting on his team’s games. Rachel tried to slip away, but they insisted on hearing her opinion, which they then trashed, assuring her that yes, gambling might be an addiction, but no, there was no reason to cut this guy any slack despite her bleeding heart attitudes. He should be drummed out of the league. Tarred and feathered at a minimum.

She was about to assure them she didn’t actually care, since she wasn’t a member of the Church of Football, when Jason Spurling dragged her away from them by her elbow without bothering to make an excuse.

How did you get stuck with those vultures? he demanded.

Good question. She gave his brawny arm a squeeze. Thanks for the rescue.

I like being seen with the most beautiful girl in the room. Just don’t tell my new sister-in-law I called you that.

Or your wife, Rachel reminded him, arching an eyebrow in pretend disapproval.

Jason laughed. She knows how hot she is. We’ve been fighting about it all day. I keep trying to nail her, but all she wants to do is yell at waiters.

You two are too much, Rachel said fondly. She wasn’t quite sure how the Spurlings survived their