The Wedding Dress Diaries
Auteur
Aimee Carson
Lezers
18,0K
Hoofdstukken
6
One
‘Can I get you a drink?’
The busty brunette behind the bar at the exclusive Manhattan restaurant was addressing the guy at the end of the counter. And, when Amber spied the man, she did a sharp double take that would surely leave her with a crick in her neck.
Parker Robinson.
Blinking, Amber adjusted to the sight as the sounds of Reese’s engagement party faded.
When Parker didn’t respond, the bartender repeated, ‘Can I get you a drink?’
Attention finally caught, Parker drew the sexy smirk like a gun from a holster. No doubt he wasn’t even aware. It was more like an automatic response, like most people would say please or thank you or mutter an excuse me when they accidentally stepped on someone’s toe.
‘Why, yes, you can,’ Parker said.
The brunette puffed up her chest, clearly pleased she’d finally earned an attentive smile, and Amber resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Apparently Reese hadn’t exaggerated; her half brother’s attitude toward women hadn’t changed much since adolescence. Amber had witnessed that grin directed at girls often enough, that knowing twinkle in his eye communicating that females liked what they saw, and he knew it.
A cocky confidence that, on Parker Robinson, was more endearing than annoying.
The sun-streaked blond hair of his teens was now a light brown with leftover golden highlights, like keepsakes from his childhood. He still wore it tousled with soft spikes up front, and the little-boy, rough-and-tumble look totally suited him, hair begging to be tugged. Years ago she’d longed to do just that, to pull him in for a kiss. Had fantasized about him teaching her how. And while his hair hadn’t changed much, his masculine features were better defined, cheekbones and jaw now sharp enough to cut cold butter. Yet he straddled youth and maturity with an ease to be envied, that cocky teen housed in the bad-boy adult making a killer combination.
His gaze collided with Amber’s and held, and a pit yawned wide beneath her stomach. The brilliant green eyes hadn’t faded with time. Pulse pounding, she realized, belatedly, that he’d caught her staring, and the shameful memory barreled into her. The day when he’d called her out on exactly that. But she wasn’t the besotted little preteen anymore, the one that had followed him around like an adoring puppy.
‘You a friend of Reese’s?’ he asked.
Amber was proud she didn’t laugh out loud. Amazing. Ironic that the guy she’d spent every summer in the Hamptons with from the ages of seven to twelve—the guy she’d loved from the ages of eight to fifteen—didn’t even remember her.
Though, in his defense, she’d been in the sixth grade the last time he saw her.
In jeans and a leather jacket the color of burnt butter, Parker picked up his glass and came closer, moving with that easy earthy stroll that came with a confidence few could dream of. It had been captivating on Parker the teen.
On Parker the man, it was absolutely breathtaking.
He slid onto the bar stool next to hers and leaned his elbow on the counter, facing Amber. Parker cleared his throat and lowered his head a little to look up at her face—most likely a stupefied face—as if worried her lack of response meant she wasn’t completely sane.
Parker seated this close was definitely threatening her sanity.
‘Are you a friend of Reese and Dylan’s?’ he repeated.
It had been fifteen years since she’d seen him, had been close enough to touch. She gripped her glass and sipped her wine, hoping she looked more sophisticated than she felt.
Amber managed a nod of her head. ‘I’ve known Reese a long time.’ I’ve known you a long time. ‘Why would I be at their engagement party if I didn’t know them?’
‘Could be a party crasher, here for the expensive food and free drinks.’
It was surreal to be having this conversation with her childhood crush, protected by her unknown identity. Because she had plenty to be embarrassed about when it came to Parker.
From the time Reese had asked her to handle her wedding, Amber had been dreading the moment she had to measure this man for his tux—an event that needed to occur soon. But she’d thought she could relax tonight because Reese had said Parker would never show. He hadn’t attended any of the other parties for his half sister and her fiancé. So why had he come now?
‘Is that why you’re here?’ she said with a smile. ‘For the free food?’
Parker let out a bitter scoff. ‘If only.’
He didn’t want to be here.
The realization hit her with all the force of a sledgehammer on steroids. It fit with what Reese had told her, the man who refused to have anything to do with the Michael family anymore. Not that Amber could blame him. But ever since her engagement, his sister had been trying to pull him back into, well, if not into the fold, at least within touching distance.
He tipped his head with an almost boyish curiosity. ‘Do I know you?’ he said, and Amber’s heart froze. ‘I definitely think I know you.’
He pursed his lips contemplatively, and Amber wished her memory of his mouth hadn’t been so spot on. He did have the most gorgeous lips in the world. Full. Sinful. Utterly kissable. Pretty savvy of a stupid twelve-year-old to notice, if she did say so herself.
Enjoying the rare sense of power in Parker’s presence, she sent him another smile. ‘Maybe.’
‘A name would be helpful,’ he said.
Amber let out an overly thoughtful hmm, as if she were seriously considering giving him the information. But suddenly, the moment she’d been dreading, her first meeting with Parker, was more about fun than fear.
‘That would be too easy,’ she said.
Parker’s understanding smile at her tone set her pulse fluttering. ‘Okay,’ he said, settling in as if for a prolonged conversation, the light in his eyes sizzling. ‘I’ll bite.’
God, she wished he would.
‘Do I know you through your work?’ he said.
Amber bit back the smile. ‘Could be,’ she said with laughter in her tone. ‘I used to be a seamstress, but now I own my own bridal shop.’
He actually recoiled as if slapped, and the look on his face as he backpedaled made her laugh. Clearly, Parker Robinson was offended at the thought of frequenting an establishment that dealt with weddings.
‘Definitely not through your work,’ he said gruffly. ‘Maybe through mine?’
Amber pretended not to know. ‘What do you do?’
He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I work Homicide down at the fifty-seventh precinct. Maybe I interviewed you as a witness before?’
‘Maybe I was once a suspect,’ she said as coolly as she could.
The roll of his eyes, that sarcastic ‘yeah, right’ expression made her suddenly sentimental. She remembered that look from her childhood, and a small part of her was glad he hadn’t changed too much.
‘Do I look too innocent?’ she said.
‘No,’ he said bluntly. ‘I just remember all my perps.’ His face grew tight, and a harsh laugh escaped his mouth, and he slid his eyes to somewhere beyond her shoulders. ‘And yeah, you look too sweet. But, trust me,’ he said with a light tone that he didn’t quite pull off. He took a sip of his drink and carefully set the glass down, his tone distant. ‘No one is as innocent as they look.’
There was a hard set about his eyes, the crinkles at the edges more about experience than age. A bitter fatigue that had started in his teens and now was fully realized.
That bold green gaze was back on her, intrigued. Interested. ‘Maybe we attended the same school?’
She shook her head.
‘Did we meet at a party once?’ he asked.
Enjoying his frustrated curiosity, she sipped her wine. ‘Try again.’
His eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Well, I know we haven’t slept together,’ Parker went on, sending her stomach plummeting to her toes.
God, only in her teenage dreams.
‘Because, although you’re certainly attractive,’ he said, ‘you’re definitely not my type.’
Amber ignored the sudden surge in her pulse and maintained an even tone. ‘Is that the only reason we couldn’t have slept together?’ she said. ‘Because I’m not your type?’
The reflexive sexy smirk lit up his face.
And as the words finally sank in, she drew back a touch in surprise. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘What type do you think I am?’
His gaze traveled down her body, leaving her hot in places that normally...weren’t. Her A-line dress was simple, with a classic cut. Nothing seductive. No overt ‘I’m yours for the taking’ in the way it clung to her body.
He hiked a brow dryly. ‘You own a bridal shop, which means you believe in the institution of marriage.’
‘And you don’t?’ she said softly, only pretending the statement was a question.
Sure enough, a bitter sound escaped those beautiful lips. Not that Amber could blame him.
‘Hell, no,’ he said.
Heart bleeding a little for him then, she remembered the day she’d found him by the dock, devastated by his mother’s words.
You were a mistake.
Amber had grown up knowing she was wanted. Secure in the knowledge her parents had been devoted to each other, were devoted to her. Her dad had died when she was a child, and her mother had loved him so much she’d never remarried. And Amber’s bridal store revolved around proving that love existed every day, with every client.
But Parker...
Well, Parker’s experiences were opposite in every respect.
And the boy who’d given Amber her first taste of romantic love—unrequited, but love nonetheless—had grown into a man who mocked its very existence.
‘You’ve made weddings your business,’ he said. ‘So, obviously you believe.’
‘And that’s how you’ve concluded I’m not your type?’ she said. ‘Because of the dress I’m wearing and what I do for a living?’
He sat back a bit to study her, no teasing, seductive tone now, but a kind of gaze that could see through your soul. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head softly. The thoughtful look on his face was deep and, for the first time, he actually looked at her. Really looked at her. ‘It’s the light in your eyes,’ he said with a simple shrug. ‘You still believe.’
Her lungs slowly collapsed, forcing the air from her body. Believed in what? In love?
In life?
The thought instantly drained from her mind when he shifted closer, and the scent of his leather jacket drifted in the air.
‘I can’t remember who you are.’ Simmering gaze on hers, he said, ‘How about throwing a poor guy a hint?’
‘Okay,’ Amber said. After the years of crushing on Parker the teen, now that he was looking at her as a desirable woman, she wanted to work the moment for all she was worth. ‘You once pressed your lips against mine.’
Parker’s eyes widened, and he dropped his gaze to her mouth, pulling all the oxygen from the atmosphere. Amber’s breathing increased in an attempt to suck in enough air.
‘Awesome.’ His voice slid lower, like heated silk. ‘I approve of my choices.’
He leaned close, his eyes glowing, sparking embers she’d thought long dead—those secret pieces of a young girl in the throes of her first sexual attraction. Not really understanding the full extent of what she felt.
His teasing grin was hot enough to light the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. ‘Did I get to second base?’
Skin vibrating at the thought, her smile was strained.
‘Sorry, only first,’ she said.
And technically, it was probably only half base, but she was having too much fun to clarify the exact nature of how their lips had touched.
‘Did I slip you the tongue?’ he said.
‘No.’
‘My loss,’ he said, and his mouth parted a bit, as if imagining righting that previous wrong.
The tiny peek at his tongue sent a shot of adrenaline through her body, surely leaving her glowing. Fine hairs standing on end.
‘And as first kisses went,’ she pressed on, ‘it could have been better.’
Mostly by being real.
The offended expression on Parker’s face was comical. ‘Could have been— Wait...first kiss?’ He shot her a skeptical look. ‘Either this was a really long time ago or you’ve confused me with someone else.’
‘I definitely don’t have you confused with someone else.’ When he looked at her as though he was beginning to suspect she truly wasn’t sane, Amber sent him a smile and gave up the pretense. ‘I practically grew up at your mother’s house because my mom worked as her personal assistant,’ she said. ‘Which was the fancy title for glorified gofer girl.’
There was a three-heartbeat pause that felt like thirty as Parker’s expression remained blank.
‘I’m Amber Davis.’
‘Amber Davis,’ he said slowly, as if pulling the name from a memory long buried. Recognition finally shot through his face, and his shoulders snapped back. ‘Well, hell,’ he breathed out. ‘You’re the one who tried to drown.’
