“You forgot you were supposed to be Reese Bismark, by the way.”
“Whatever. Your ex-wife is not going to run around and tell everyone.” Reese peered around the line into the ballroom.
There were approximately four hundred guests if she was counting the tables right, each with elaborate floral centerpieces in a russet autumnal theme. Whew. Reese was mentally tabulating the cost of a sit-down dinner for four hundred and could only come to the conclusion that the Chattertons had done well in the drug price-fixing business.
Maybe her outrageously expensive allergy medicine had financed a portion of this wedding. A centerpiece, maybe.
Then she remembered Delco was price-fixing painkillers for terminally ill patients and somehow that seemed even worse. Someone dying in pain had paid for this exercise in overabundance.
“And who is this beautiful young lady?”
Reese found her palm grasped between two firm, eager, masculine hands and looked up, startled. Lovely. The father of the groom, Ashton Chatterton himself, was leering at her over his tuxedo tie. While she had been gaping at the opulent room lost in her thoughts, she had inched forward in the line and Knight was standing behind her, waiting for her to introduce them.
“I’m Reese, cousin of the bride.”
Shit. She was supposed to be the bridesmaid’s cousin, not the bride’s. She had always been such a good liar, but trust her talent to fail her right when she needed it most.
Knight coughed.
“Bridesmaid. Bridesmaid’s cousin. And this is my fiancé, Derek Knight.” She might as well torture Knight, too, in the process. Besides, if he knew she was engaged, maybe Chatterton would release the hand he was currently holding hostage.
No such luck. He just squeezed harder. “Oh, of course! Jeannie’s cousin, Reese, right?”
Ashton Chatterton was a little on the short side, heading towards bald, but he had a command of presence about him that Reese recognized immediately. He dripped authority and stood straight and proud, a man used to getting what he wanted. A wealthy man, who wore a tuxedo as comfortably as if it were jeans.
“Good looks obviously run in the family,” Chatterton was saying. “And you got more than your fair share,” he added with a wink that reminded her of Uncle Hal back in Brooklyn when she’d been growing up.
Uncle Hal hadn’t been anybody’s uncle, he had only wanted girls to call him that. Before he dropped his pants and showed them Mr. Happy.
That wink was followed by a lean that brought Chatterton firmly into her personal space.
Yeesh, Ashton Chatterton was coming on to her. With her fiancé standing right next to her. Who wasn’t really her fiancé, not even her boyfriend, but just a sexy pseudo-stranger who knew how to hit her g-spot like his thumb was a homing device.
But Chatterton didn’t know that. The nerve.
She added gross lecher to his list of crimes and tried to pull her hand back. His middle finger stroked across her palm in asign language invitation and rude gesture she remembered from sixth grade. And it didn’t meanmeet me on the playground later.
Maybe she was overreacting. Giving a light laugh, she said, “Oh, thank you, how sweet.”
Chatterton raised his eyebrow, gave a slow smile, and stroked her again. “I meant every word. Save me a dance, Reese. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better. Much better.”
Even more reason to nail the guy and send him to prison.
“Lovely,” she murmured and moved down the line. Before they reached the bride and groom she ditched out of the line, yanking Knight with her, wondering if anyone would notice if she pulled out her phone and took a picture of the table settings.
Her boss would kill her if she didn’t come back with something good after he had sent her all the way to Chicago for this wedding. She decided no one would think twice about it in this age of digital excess.
Knight, who had shaken her hand off his arm, said in a harsh voice, “I don’t want you dancing with that creep.”
“What?” Distracted, Reese opened her clutch. Her phone took up the entire purse, and she reached in carefully to tug it out. She kept an eye peeled for anyone looking in her direction.Just getting a lipstick here, no cause to think I’m a media spy.
“The guy is a prick. I don’t even want you near Chatterton andIdefinitely don’t want him touching you.”
“Why? You think I’m going to blow your cover for you? Or start asking price-fixing questions while we dance to ‘When a Man Loves a Woman?’ Do people still dance to that?” Reese wasn’t going to blow his cover, or hers, for that matter, but if she was going to be forced to dance with Ashton Chatterton, she might as well see if she could find out anything interesting.
Like what kind of an idiot his wife was, since he was clearly a philanderer.
Reese answered her own question.