Читать книгу Risky Moves - Carrie Alexander - Страница 9

Ten years later

EVEN AT THE BEST of times, Adam Brody didn’t care for wedding receptions. The clamoring crowd, the overabundant feast, the cloying scents of flowers, perfume and aftershave—not his style. But it was clear that rock-bottom bad had been achieved when the maid of honor walked up to him and said, “I want to defy death.”

The wedding had gone off without a hitch. And, really, Adam had nothing to complain about, considering that he’d tolerated far worse ordeals. Like three months in a hospital bed flat on his back. He’d been managing—aside from his stint as toastmaster general—to fly below the radar of most of the guests.

That is, until Julia Knox made her big pronouncement.

Adam nearly swallowed the toothpick from the little sugared grape and melting cheese thingamabob he’d just popped into his mouth. The Quimby Woodwind Trio was playing a reedy rendition of “Sunrise, Sunset,” which meant his slow torture was almost over. He was one round of goodbyes away from freedom.

First he’d have to deal with Julia. Of all the words he’d imagined she might say when they met again, “I want to defy death” weren’t among them.

Carefully he removed the frilled toothpick from his mouth. “Pardon?”

“I want to defy death.” She looked straight at him with serious hazel eyes. Julia was almost always serious. Which was why he couldn’t fathom—

“Teach me how,” she said. Forcefully. Without blinking. As if she weren’t wearing several hundred dollars worth of tulle and a floral headpiece that made her look like Heidi of the Alps.

Weddings did strange things to women’s heads, inside and out. After Adam’s one brush with the phenomenon had ended in catastrophe across the board, he’d renewed his policy to avoid contact with marriage-minded females whenever possible. The fact that his older brother, Zack, was today’s groom and that he’d played the best man had necessitated some pretty fancy footwork—especially for a gimp. Luckily Zack understood, having endured three solid months of his fiancée’s obsession with color matching, ribbon tying and invitation lists.

Plain and simple, weddings made women nuts.

Julia Knox, however…

She wasn’t the type.

Maybe she’d changed in the years since Adam had left Quimby, his small Midwestern hometown. Calm, reasonable Julia was the woman least likely to change, but, hey—anything was possible.

Adam tilted his head. In spite of his vow to stay detached, she’d aroused his curiosity.

“This might not be the ideal time to bring this up,” she said, “but it’s now or never. For such a prominent member of the wedding party, you’ve been rather elusive.”

He shrugged, remaining silent. She had to know why.

Her brows shot up. “I suppose you’ve been thrust under the Quimby microscope whenever you show your face?”

“It’s not my face they’re interested in.”

Not one for sidelong looks and whispers behind hands, Julia ran her gaze over his tuxedo-clad body, from the tightly knotted bow tie to the black satin cummerbund and all the way down to the rented patent leather wing tips that pinched his toes. She lingered openly over his troublesome legs. A majority of the wedding guests had done the same, particularly when he’d offered his arm to escort Julia down the aisle. He’d wondered if they were waiting for him to stumble.

Julia’s interest was concerned and kind, not speculative. Although his reaction—a hot flush of awareness—was disconcerting, he put it down to more of the same. Ergo, further humiliation. His aversion to being the object of curiosity and gossip was a large part of his dislike for the otherwise acceptable reception. He’d joined the wedding party at the last moment and had planned to duck out of the reception as soon as possible, until his sense of obligation had stopped him. He could be elusive. He couldn’t be rude, not at Zack’s wedding. He owed his brother his life.

Involuntarily, Adam shifted from foot to foot as the muscles in his lower back and left hip started to quiver and contract. It’s only tension, he thought, concentrating on relaxing the tightness before it became a spasm. He imagined a clear, cold river washing over him. Through him.

Relax. It’s only Julia.

Her forthright gaze returned to his face. She didn’t say anything about how “good, really good” he looked. She only blinked, let go of her concern and then reassumed the determined set of her mouth. No pity from Julia, he thought. Thanks, Goldie.

She took a breath. “You wouldn’t know it to look at me—” when she touched the beaded bodice of her wedding getup he obligingly looked at the me part of her that swelled in the scooped neckline “—but my life is dull. I need a few thrills and chills. A challenge to shake up the status quo. I figure you’re the guy to come to.” She gestured with one hand. A delicate pearl bracelet slid over her smooth forearm. His gaze shifted, catching on it, then on the fragile knob of her wrist bone, and just like that he couldn’t look away. He didn’t know why, except that suddenly there was a swirling in his gut, like a strong, sucking whirlpool.

“I need to take a few risks. Feel the rush.” She hesitated, putting her hands on her hips, her face infused with the drama of it all. “Teach me how to be a daredevil, Adam.”

Oh, no, he thought at once.

Not him. Not her. After all these years, definitely not her.

His silence would have been leaden if not for the clarinets. The song ended on a long, wobbly note, and he shrugged negligently, as if he really didn’t care about any of it. “Go eat a chunk of wedding cake, Goldie. The sugar high will cure you.” He turned away, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the hurt that had lightning-flashed over her face.

She grasped his sleeve. “Just like old times, is it? You cuffing me on the shoulder and then running away? I know a brush-off when I get one, Adam Brody.”

“I’m not sure that you do.”

She looked at his sleeve. Deliberately unclenched her fingers as she said in a low voice, “No one calls me Goldie these days.”

“Too high school now that you’re a mature adult and upstanding citizen?”

She made a face at herself. “Seems like I’ve always been a mature adult, doesn’t it?”

No, he thought, remembering with a startling clarity the one time she’d been as reckless as he, Quimby’s notorious daredevil. It wasn’t something they talked about. For the past ten years, they’d been very good at avoiding the slightest mention of it. To Adam, Julia Knox was his brother’s girlfriend and she always would be. End of story.

“Zack is married,” she said, reading his face. “It’s official. Lock, stock and honeymoon.”

“That doesn’t change our—” Adam stopped. Or did it? With marriage, was the unspoken law that brothers don’t share the same girl no longer in effect? For a moment, he experienced a glorious relief. His longtime burden of guilt shifted—a boulder rocking at the first wedge of the crowbar. Then he thought of Laurel Barnard, who’d caused a rift between them so immense only a near tragedy had closed it, and the boulder rolled firmly back into place.

“It’s been years since Zack and I broke up.” Julia produced a rusty chuckle. “I think you and I are allowed to be…friends.” Her lashes lowered. He saw her swallow.

Nervous? he wondered. Unsure? Julia?

“Sure.” He nodded, acting agreeable only to get out of the tight spot. He had no intention of taking up with her—she was far too dangerous to his status quo. “No problem. We’ve always been friends, right?” He gave her arm a strictly friendly squeeze, and there went the whirlpool again. They weren’t friends, he reminded himself, stepping away from the buffet tables. They couldn’t be.

Because they shared a secret. And it was a whopper. Too gigantic and shameful to openly discuss. But it would always be there, looming between them, as unscalable as a sheer rock wall.

“Then there’s no reason you can’t teach me how to sky dive,” Julia said in a flurry, aware that he was desperate to get away.

That stopped him. He cocked his head again. “Sky dive? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m serious. It’s the riskiest thing I can think of.”

“You’re nuts.” Flat-out nuts. And he was no longer sure it was the wedding that had gotten to her. She seemed rational enough about Zack’s marriage, what with being the maid of honor and all, so maybe that wasn’t what was freaking her out.

Still…

Julia Knox—skydiving? Conventional Julia, the pretty, popular, nice girl who’d been nicknamed Goldie after Fort Knox, although privately he’d always considered the name a suitable tribute to her shining example of female perfection. Zack Brody and Julia Knox had been the perfect Ken-and-Barbie couple of Quimby High School—basketball captain and head cheerleader, class president and Honor Society inductee, homecoming king and queen. They went together like sugar and cream.

A few years, a little trauma—even Zack’s marriage to Cathy Timmerman—couldn’t change the essence of that. Julia Knox didn’t need to shake up her life. She was, and always would be, twenty-four-karat gold.

“You’ve been watching ‘Road Rules’ again,” he scoffed. “Or maybe travel documentaries on the adventure channel?”

“Don’t condescend, Adam.”

He smiled at her stubborn resolve. Maybe her sweet nature had turned a little tart in the years he’d been away. “Sorry. It’s just that you of all people—” He looked her up and down. “Out of everyone I know, you’re the person with her feet most firmly stuck to the ground.”

“Exactly the point.”

He shook his head. “Don’t ask me to help you with this crazy idea. Go to a skydiving school if you have to, but don’t ask me.”

She reached for his hands and almost got them, too, except that he backed off. He was still quick enough for an elusive maneuver when he needed one. Too bad that meant he was trapped in the far corner of Jerome’s, blocked from the exit by a jumbled maze of guests, fancy-dressed tables and chairs at cockeyed angles. The john was nearby, but what he really needed was to get outside and breathe the fresh night air.

“Adam,” Julia said, her voice catching. He quit scanning the room for an escape route and focused on her face, intrigued despite himself. What was going on in her unleveled head? “I guess I’m scared,” she confessed. Her eyes beseeched him, shimmering with a surprising amount of emotion. “That’s why I asked you. I want someone I know I can trust. Not a stranger.”

“Moot point. I’m not certified to teach skydiving in this state.”

“Oh.” She frowned, stymied for a moment before her troubled brow smoothed. “Rock climbing, then. To begin.”

He could do that. Take her out to one of the granite bluffs he’d scrambled up and down as a kid, make her think it was steep and dangerous, give her enough of a thrill to satisfy whatever urge was driving her and pack it in before lunchtime. He could do that. Maybe.

Maybe.

Doubt crept in. He hated it. He’d never been cautious or afraid before the accident—hiking, biking, rowing, parachuting and rappelling without a moment’s fear. Even now, eighteen months after the accident, when he’d recovered to the point where walking was again a given instead of a small miracle…it wasn’t enough. He was supposed to feel blessed, and instead he was so damned uneasy about his abilities. Not to mention his future.

Julia blinked, growing dismayed by his hesitation. “Oh, Adam. I’m sor—” She stopped herself, her features crimping with concern as her gaze swept over his legs. “I thought—Zack said you’re doing great—”

“No problem.” Adam was brisk about it, though suddenly he was having trouble swallowing. His fingers felt like thumbs as he yanked at the bow tie until it finally came undone. Julia didn’t need to know how feeble he’d been, what a long struggle it had taken to regain even half of the physical skills he’d lost when he’d sped too fast around a treacherous curve on a mountain road and sideswiped a lumbering delivery van. After surviving a succession of risky adventures, he’d been done in by a squat van transporting inner tubes for the Snake River Rafters. The irony wasn’t as amusing as it might have been.

“It’s you I’m concerned with,” he said bluntly. “You’ve never been the daring type. What’s up?”

Julia met his eyes, her chin dimpled like an orange peel because her lips were so firmly set. He held back the impulse to smile. Being deadly serious, she wouldn’t appreciate knowing how cute she looked. “You think I can’t handle it?” she accused. “I’m fit, you know. I work out.” She lifted an arm, crooking her elbow and clenching a fist to show him her biceps. “I’m perfectly capable and—and mentally prepared.”

“To defy death?”

“Um. That might have been an overstatement.”

To get his attention—which she had. But he still had no idea of her reasoning. “All this because you’re bored?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you do it?”

His tight answering smile was an evasion. “I don’t remember.” Didn’t want to remember was more like it. Remembering would mean wanting, and wanting meant trying. There were times, he’d learned, that it hurt too much to try. Which was something he’d never expected to cop to, considering all the do-or-die instances when he’d hung off a rock wall with his muscles screaming, forcing his numb fingertips to clench on a handhold just…one…more…time.

“I remember,” Julia said. Her face softened. “You’ve been a daredevil ever since Chuck Cheswick double-dog dared you to climb the water tower when you were ten. I also remember how you used to scare the life out of Zack. He was always watching over your escapades.”

“And bailing me out.”

“Yes, and bailing you out.” It was obvious what they were both thinking of now. About a year and a half ago, there’d been a blowup between him and Zack over Laurel Barnard, the woman Adam had fallen for in a bad way. Laurel had manipulated the situation, playing one brother against the other until they were twisted into knots. After a major argument, Adam had made a heated escape, leaving Laurel to worm out of Zack what she’d been after all along—a marriage proposal from the man known as Heartbreak Brody, the biggest catch in Quimby. A short time later, Adam’s car accident had called Zack to Idaho on the eve of the wedding—trumping Laurel’s worst-laid plans.

Adam figured he owed Zack double. First for saving him from the scheming Laurel, then for saving him from despair when the doctors had told him he might not walk again. Zack had stayed for an entire year, putting his life and reputation on hold to inspire, cajole and harangue Adam until he was back on his feet. Performing as the best man at his brother’s real wedding despite the curious stares and pitying attention was the least Adam could do in return.

“Hey, Madman,” said Fred Spangler, waving from a group of plotting groomsmen. “Get over here, fella. We’ve gotta strategize over how to trash the groom’s getaway car.”

Adam looked at Julia. “Sorry. Duty calls.”

“But what about—”

He stepped around her when she didn’t move. “Nice talking to you.”

She reached out for a brief, firm hug, sending a jolt through him. Usually she kept her distance. “It’s wonderful to see you again,” she murmured. “You look…”

Good. Really good! Adam gritted his teeth in anticipation.

Julia swung her head, making her smooth golden-brown hair sweep across the small satin bows that lay flat against her shoulders. “You look thoroughly civilized.”

Civilized?

“Hey—what does that mean?” Adam said, but Fred Spangler grabbed his arm and pulled him away, leaving Julia looking after him with a taunting little smile playing across her lips.

THE WOODWIND TRIO played a slow, spitty-sounding Irish melody to wind down the evening as Julia made her way across the restaurant to her table. A slice of wedding cake waited at her place, thickly frosted with green and white globs that were supposed to be lily of the valley even though this was an autumn wedding. Julia had advised Cathy that detailed artistry was beyond Velda Thompson, Quimby’s one and only unrenowned cake decorator, but you couldn’t talk sense to a woman about to tie the knot. Brides had their own cockeyed logic. A mystery to Julia, who liked order, stability, cause and effect. Under normal circumstances, she couldn’t imagine thinking like a bride.

But these circumstances weren’t normal.

Her tablemates were off chatting, boozing or schmoozing, so Julia allowed herself a loud sigh, then propped her elbows on the table. Disconsolate, she considered the cake a long while before stabbing it with a fork. There was no need to sleep with a slice of wedding cake under her pillow. She didn’t want marriage just now—she wanted change. Excitement.

Adam Brody.

The sooner the better.

Ever since Cathy had confided that Adam had agreed to return to Quimby and act as Zack’s best man, Julia had been filled with an unusual restless energy. This was her last chance to follow the road not taken. She was certain.

Either she put the vitality back into her life or she settled for more of the same. Either she made Adam see her in a new light or she gave him up for good. A woman could live modestly and pine after a man for only so long before she became pathetic.

For these many years, she’d been careful to keep her feelings for Adam Brody secret. But some of her friends must suspect by now. Cathy knew, for certain, which meant Zack probably did. Being Zack, as honorable as he was handsome, he’d been completely discreet about the potential complications. Julia had no doubt that he’d offer his blessing, if it ever came to that.

Ever?

Or never?

Julia shivered. She could face never if she had to. There were worse things.

Like skydiving.

Oh, good grief, what was she thinking? Adam was right. She wasn’t the type. Just as she wasn’t his type.

Redheaded Allie Spangler came over and plopped into a chair. She eyed the wedding cake, pierced by an upright fork. “Aren’t you going to eat that?” she asked hungrily. Her gaze darted around the elegant restaurant, searching for Fred. She and her husband had been on a diet for several months now, but she was always sneaking snacks behind his back.

Julia nudged the plate toward her longtime friend. “Feel free.”

“Adam’s looking really good.” Allie moaned as she scooped a dollop of sugary frosting on her fingertip. “I halfway expected a wasted shell of a man, but…” She glanced at the gaggle of groomsmen, smacking her lips. “He hardly even limps.”

“Yes.” Julia didn’t need to follow Allie’s stare. An image of Adam was burned on her mind. His tousled brown hair, the lean, athletic body in a rumpled tux, tie undone, collar open. His face. His sober face. Always intense, but now hardened by an intimate knowledge of struggle and pain. And so…guarded. It hurt her to look at him, knowing what he’d been through. Except when the boyish daredevil grin emerged, even briefly, reminding her of the mischievous kid he’d been, the cocky athlete he’d become. Under the austere exterior, he was still the restless young man she’d fallen for more than ten years ago—fallen for as fast and hard as a sky diver with a malfunctioning parachute.

“Aw. Don’t look so mournful.”

Julia shot a curious look at Allie, who smiled through a mouthful of cake.

“Just because Heartbreak is off the market for good…” The redhead spoke soothingly.

“Oh. Yes, of course. Heartbreak.” Julia smiled, mimicking the brave faces of the single women in attendance. Zack “Heartbreak” Brody had been the most eligible bachelor in Quimby. Some of his ex-girlfriends had formed an informal support group, calling themselves the Heartbroken, sisters in misery. Along with Allie, Julia had been a founding member, even though her feelings for Zack were not nearly as significant as the others suspected.

Not for Zack.

“I’m fine with that,” she said, ever so brightly.

Allie patted her hand. “Sure you are.”

“Zack and Cathy are perfect together. I’m thrilled for them.”

“Yeah, yeah. We all are.” Allie’s smile wound tighter and tighter until her homely freckled face was all squinched up, twisting her expression into a grimace. She released it, casting a guilty glance at Fred. “Anyhoo. A bunch of us are getting together after to commiserate—er, to celebrate. Har, har.”

Julia murmured something noncommittal. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to Allie and Gwen and the Thompson twins and other assorted singletons moan and groan about their great unrequited love for Zack. When it came to the Brody men, she knew too well how they felt. And it didn’t pay to linger on it.

Action, she reminded herself. She’d promised that this time she would go into action instead of sitting and waiting for Adam to come to her. No more doing the right thing. No more boring, well-behaved good girl.

“It’s a warm night for October. We were talking about a bonfire on the beach, just like old times. Some of the guys are coming, too.” Allie chuckled. “With liquor, I betcha. They’re thinking if they get a few of you bridesmaids comfortably numb, the pickings will be easy.”

Julia started to shake her head, then stopped. “Will—um, who’s going?”

“Me and Fred. Gwen, Karen and Kelly. I don’t know about Faith—she’s been even quieter than usual lately. Probably grieving over Zack. All of the groomsmen will be there, and maybe one or two of the guys from Fred and Zack’s basketball league.”

“Adam?” Julia blurted.

Allie polished off the cake before she answered. “It was his idea. You know Adam.”

Never indoors when he could be out. Always the first to move, to dare, to go. Farther and farther away each time, harder and harder to catch up to.

He was a comet, burning through the sky. She was only Julia Knox, her feet stuck on the ground. If she reached for him, she might be badly burned. Did she dare try?

I have to. This is my last chance.

“I’ll be there,” she said. “After I go home and change.”

Allie scanned the pumpkin-colored dress. It was too frou-frou for Julia’s taste, but out of solidarity with her fellow Quimby shopkeepers, Cathy had insisted on patronizing the lone local bridal shop—where tasteful choices were woefully limited. The dresses at Bridal Bonanza got a lot worse than frou-frou.

“Always a bridesmaid, huh?” Allie said with a bit of an edge, because she hadn’t been asked to be one. Although outwardly happy in her marriage, her interference in Zack’s love life had once gone too far. Fortunately for her, Zack and Cathy were forgiving sorts.

Julia smiled too sweetly. “Maybe we can all move on now that Zack’s off the market for good.”

Allie shrugged, quickly changing subjects. “There’s always Adam, I guess. Even if he’s not much of a marriage prospect. No steady job, no house, no savings account…”

I already have those things, Julia thought. Turns out they’re not enough.

“…and now there are his weak legs and all. He’s sure not the kind of guy you can count on.”

Julia disagreed. She knew firsthand that though Adam wasn’t as perfect as his brother—he made mistakes, and she’d been one of them—he also had enough pride, courage and loyalty for ten men. In many ways, however, even though they were the same age and had grown up in the same small town and attended the same school, he was still an enigma to her. He was so disciplined, yet utterly reckless, seemingly fearless. She’d always found him fascinating, the kind of man who would challenge her to be more than expected.

And she needed such a challenge. She needed it now.

Julia forced herself to focus on the conversation instead of her secret desires. “You know Adam better than me,” she told Allie with a shrug, even though that wasn’t completely true. Allie, who’d lived next door to the Brody brothers, had been buddies—only buddies—with both of them. She and Adam had egged each other on in their pranks and misadventures, with Zack the guardian who was always there to get them out of trouble.

“Sure, but I never woulda dated him.” Allie was watching the men, who apparently thought they were slipping out of the restaurant unnoticed. Fred Spangler tiptoed past the bar, as if a two-hundred-pound car salesman with a mop of curly blond hair could sneak anywhere. His wife shook her head fondly. “I like a beefier man.” She chuckled. “And I got me a steer.”

“I didn’t date him, either,” Julia said, her eyes on Adam. He moved easily between the tables, avoiding hails of recognition by keeping his gaze focused on the exit.

Eyes on the exit. That was Adam Brody to a T.

“Nope.” Allie had switched her attention to the newlyweds. “It was always you and Zack, two peas in a pod.”

Adam looked over his shoulder at the last moment, straight at Julia. A telling warmth bloomed in her cheeks. She’d been wanting him for too many years to be able to switch her feelings off fast enough to completely hide them from his notice. Not even years of practice made perfect.

She swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. “Maybe we were too perfect together,” she heard herself saying, as if from a distance. All her energy was focused on Adam, who broke their moment of mutual awareness as quickly as he’d started it. He slipped beyond her sight, the heavy carved doors of the former bank building closing solidly behind him.

“How’s that?” Allie asked.

Julia waved a vague hand, waiting for her hammering pulse to fade. “Um, you know. There was no lasting heat.” Not a problem as far as Adam was concerned, even with very little encouragement.

Zack had been her first love, a puppy love, the summer she was sixteen. Adam hadn’t caught her attention in that way then—he was still a scrawny boy, always off poking around in the woods and climbing anything vertical, including the post office flagpole. Zack had been slightly older, a handsome icon of maturity and popularity, working as the lifeguard at the Mirror Lake beach. Everyone had said they belonged together. Soon Julia and Zack believed it, too. And since they were the kind of people who did what was expected of them, they’d lasted longer than they ought to have.

“No heat?” Allie repeated. “C’mon. I remember how you two always looked so right together. High-school sweethearts. Every girl in town envied you.”

“That was years ago. We broke up, remember?”

Allie reached for a beribboned party-favor bag and tore apart the netting with her fingernails. Pastel mints and candied almonds spilled across the tablecloth. She began popping them in her mouth one by one until her lips were puckered. “And it’s just coincidence that you haven’t been serious with anyone since?”

“I’ve dated,” Julia said. “Plenty.” At least by Quimby standards.

“Yeah, stodgy guys with briefcases and beepers.”

“Suits me fine. I have my own briefcase and beeper.” Julia nibbled an almond. After working for one of the nationwide real-estate franchises for a few years, she’d come back to Quimby to open her own agency. It was doing very well, by Quimby standards.

“Which is why you need the opposite, of course!” Cathy Timmerman—Cathy Brody, Julia remembered—swooped on them with the numerous layers of her swagged ivory skirts bunched in her hands. She kicked out a chair with the toe of a dyed-to-match ivory pump and collapsed with a loud exhale. “Gad. Weddings really take it out of you.”

“But the honeymoon puts it back in,” Julia said, giving Cathy’s hand a squeeze. Quite a reach over their voluminous, rustling gowns.

“No, that’s the groom’s job,” Allie said mischievously.

Cathy groaned. “Please, no more bawdy honeymoon jokes. I’ve had enough of those from Zack’s uncle Brady. Brady Brody, if you can believe it. That’s him in the magenta velvet tux. He thinks it’s funny to sneak into every picture our photographer takes.”

“I remember Uncle Brady,” Julia said. “He used to pinch my derriere at family functions. Consider yourself forewarned, Cath.”

“Too late. He got in a good one right there in the receiving line. But with all these layers of tulle and genuine polyester silk, what was the point?”

They laughed.

“Zack didn’t tell me about his relatives,” Cathy continued. “Turns out there are heaps of them.” She tried to frown, but nothing could take away the happiness that wreathed her face as clearly as the floral headpiece framed her sable hair. Despite the over-the-top Bridal Bonanza finery, Julia had never seen a bride who glowed more than Cathy. There was no doubt that Zack had chosen right this time around.

“We booked hotel rooms all over the county, and it still seems as though most of them are bunking in at either Zack’s house or mine. We haven’t managed a moment to ourselves for days and days.”

Then neither would Adam, Julia thought, knowing how much he’d hate that.

“When do you escape?” Allie asked, crunching.

“Very soon now.” Cathy’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as they followed Zack, who was making one last turn around the room, distributing thanks and handshakes. “I can hardly wait.” She looked sidelong at her grinning friends. “Not for that. For the peace and quiet.” She paused, reflecting. “And maybe some of that, too.”

Cathy was a lucky bride, Julia told herself. Her groom was an exceptional man. Julia had known so even before a dozen Quimby busybodies had taken it upon themselves to inform her that she’d let a good one get away. She had no hope of explaining why their chemistry hadn’t worked when she didn’t understand it herself. Put Zack together with Cathy, a relative newcomer to Quimby, and the pair of them smoked. You could practically see the steam rising from their pores.

Maybe it was the comfort and normalcy that had doomed Julia’s relationship with Zack. And that continued to doom her with the few acceptable men she’d encountered since. Briefcases, beepers and boredom—she knew them far too well.

The other two women were discussing the honeymoon plans, six days of autumnal marital bliss at a mountain resort. “By the time we return, I’m hoping all the relatives will have gone,” Cathy confessed in a whisper. “It’s going to be cozy enough as it is, living right next door to Zack’s parents until our new house is built.”

“And Adam, too,” Julia said. “If he stays, that is.”

“Oh, his mother’s working on that. Whereas Zack said we were lucky that his brother agreed to fly in last night instead of putting it off until this morning. I hear Adam’s always been impossible to peg down.”

“He missed the rehearsal dinner.” Julia had been all pins and needles, anticipating the sight of him. Instead her first glimpse had come this afternoon, in the church itself, when she’d preceded Cathy down the aisle. The shock of Adam’s magnifying presence and stark, handsome face had put a noticeable stutter in her step. Enough that the busybodies had clucked over it, though none had guessed the true reason. They all thought she was regretting the loss of Zack.

“Does he know that Laurel booked herself onto a convenient Mediterranean cruise ship so she wouldn’t be in town for the wedding?” Allie said, looking from one woman to the other.

“He knows.” Cathy was eyeing Julia with too much sympathy. Now that the mints were gone, Allie was beginning to notice. “Laurel’s not what matters.”

Allie’s lips pursed. “His legs?”

“His legs are fine,” Julia insisted. Too much emphasis.

Allie squinched again, her eyes narrowing to slits, her long nose twitching suspiciously.

“You only have to look at him to see.” Julia couldn’t seem to stop herself. Very unlike her. “He’s every bit as vital as he was when he left.”

“Vital?” Allie echoed. “Like a daily vitamin?” She chortled. “If I were you, I wouldn’t count on Adam sticking around for another dose tomorrow, let alone the long haul.”

Julia winced. “If you were me? I—I’m not counting on anything. Which isn’t the point, anyway. All I meant—” She took a breath, appalled at herself for losing her cool for so little reason. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Cathy stepped in. “Allie, would you gather together the single women? It’s time I threw the bouquet.” As soon as Allie was out of earshot, she turned to the flustered Julia. “Honey—are you okay? I knew it was going to be hard on you, seeing Adam again.”

You don’t know the half of it, Julia thought. She clenched her hands, safely hidden in a lapful of tulle netting. Cathy had guessed about Julia’s feelings for Adam months ago, when Julia had confessed that—contrary to public speculation—she was not heartbroken over Zack. But Cathy didn’t know that there was a lot more to the story.

“Well, sure,” Julia said slowly, “I was a little nervous about what to expect. But it turns out that Adam’s still Adam.”

Cathy laughed. “Is that good or bad? I haven’t known him long enough to tell.”

Julia mulled it over. He was good for a change—her change—but a mighty bad influence on her usual rock-steady equilibrium. “It’s both,” she said. “Adam’s always been…” She gave a wordless gesture, knowing there was no rhyme or reason for her attraction to the man. Adam Brody was just there—a dream in her head, a knot in her stomach, a longing in her heart.

“Impossible to peg down,” Cathy said, nodding. “I like him, though. After hearing all the stories, I thought he’d be one of those careless extreme-sports dudes with the cocky attitudes. But he’s not—he’s quiet and intelligent, with a dry sense of humor. When I think of all he’s been through—” Catching Julia’s misting eyes, she broke off. “Ah, but I don’t need to tell you, do I?”

Julia gave a watery sniff. “At eighteen, he was pretty darn cocky. The Brodys worried like crazy over his daredevil tendencies, and they never even learned about some of the wilder escapades.” She thought sadly of the new hesitation about Adam, the look of worry in his eyes that had aged him beyond twenty-eight. “But I suspect he’s changed some after the car accident.”

“Maybe you’ll get the chance to find out?” Cathy gave her a sisterly little nudge.

“Maybe.”

“Try to persuade him to stay, will you?”

Julia was going to say that Adam had never before paid any attention to her requests, but just then Allie and a swarm of eager guests arrived, buzzing with excitement over the bridal bouquet and the newlyweds’ impending departure. Julia was swept into the celebratory crowd despite her reluctance. She didn’t believe in superstition and sentiment—she believed in drawing up a plan and making things happen.

The wedding guests surged out of the restaurant into the gravel parking lot. Zack’s black Jaguar was decked out in shaving cream, ribbons of crepe paper, tin cans, pinwheels and the traditional Just Married placard. Julia picked Adam out from the crowd, her heart expanding when she saw the genuine smile on his face. The honey-colored glow of the sunset caught in his mossgreen eyes, lighting them up like twin fireflies.

Ten years, she thought, her chest hurting. I’ve been feeling like this for ten years. That’s long enough.

Long enough to make even a sane woman ready to jump out of an airplane.

Cathy and Zack stood on the doorstep beneath the deep stone arch of the entrance, looking exactly like the model couple for a wedding cake topper. They hugged Zack’s parents and Cathy’s dad, Admiral Wallace Winston Bell, then ran toward their getaway vehicle in a shower of flower petals. Cathy paused at the open car door, held up her bouquet to a cheer from the crowd and with a graceful flick of her wrist tossed it high in the air.

The single women jostled for position. Julia followed the bouquet’s spinning arc, her hands involuntarily reaching to the sky before she remembered and pulled them in. Gwendolyn Case, a token member of the Heartbroken club even though she’d already been married and divorced twice, made an impressive leap and catch despite the billowing skirts of her size eighteen pumpkin-colored bridesmaid dress and size eleven dyed-to-match pumps. A roar went up from the guests as the admiral swept her up for a big hug and smooch.

As Zack and Cathy drove away in a clatter, Julia met Adam’s eyes over the milling crowd. I don’t want a bridal bouquet. I’m as free and easy and daring as you, she wanted to say, but settled for a little smile of mutual amusement before his extended family of uncles and in-laws and cousins thrice removed descended en masse, blocking him from view.

Poor Adam, she thought, getting an idea.