Sweet Georgia Peach Page 9

  London paused in the wings until it was her turn, then walked out onto the stage, stopping at each of her marks and smiling. When the camera pulled in for her close-up, she felt a little uncomfortable, but she held her smile until it was time to move on.

  As she came off the stage, a strange feeling came over her, one of completion. She’d just finished the last beauty pageant she would ever do. It was like getting on a plane and waving goodbye, looking forward to the journey ahead. Bittersweet, but a tremendous relief.

  “While the judges tally their scores, we’ll be entertained by a couple of musical numbers by the Singing Silvers,” Larry announced, and twenty-five ladies in their seventies and eighties filed out onto the stage. London squinted, trying to see Kade through all the stage lights, but she couldn’t pick him out. She just hoped this would all be over soon. In the meantime, those little old ladies were awfully cute.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick took the scorecards from the three judges and looked them over. Then she glanced up. “We have ourselves a problem,” she said. “You’ve each chosen London Russell as the winner, but if she wins, we’ll get slapped with all kinds of accusations that the pageant was rigged,” she said. “It would be far better to name her the runner-up and to name someone else the winner.”

  Kade clenched his jaw. He shouldn’t say anything at this point—his opinion shouldn’t matter in the judging room, after all. But boy, did he ever want to say something.

  “We certainly don’t want to hurt the pageant, darlin’, but fair’s fair, and in our opinion, London won,” Mayor Russell said.

  “But how do we explain it to the public and to the media?” Mrs. Fitzpatrick pressed a hand to her forehead. “We don’t have time to deliberate this.”

  “How do we know that the public and the media will even care?” Elaine asked. “All we have is one angry mother who would do whatever it took to make sure her daughter won.”

  Mrs. Wrigley shook her head. “I have no idea what’s been going on here, but I will say this. If London Russell doesn’t win, that’s going to cause an even bigger upheaval. She took every single round, and talent? Astonishing. The audience knows she won. The people at home know she won. If we crown someone else, that will be a problem.”

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick looked torn, but then she nodded. “I see your point. All right, go ahead as planned.”

  Kade let out a huge sigh of relief.

  ***

  Everything was riding on this moment. London had done the best she could, and now it was all up to the judges. She’d given everything she could—was it enough?

  “London Russell!”

  She blinked. Had she really heard what she thought she’d just heard? She wasn’t sure, but then the former Miss Sweet Georgia Peach was giving her a sash, so it had to be real.

  Tears streamed down London’s cheeks as she was crowned. She knew it was messing up her makeup, but she couldn’t help it. She was filled with so many emotions, she didn’t know how to contain them. She was relieved to be done with pageant life, and yet she would miss it. She was so grateful to have won, and yet, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the increased travel and the appearances she’d have to make. Most of all, she was thrilled to have earned the scholarship, and yet terrified that she’d be a rotten lawyer and no one would hire her.

  After she gave a final wave and the television cameras were turned off, Chelsea, who had come in second, threw her arms around London and gave her a big squeeze. “I’m so proud of you!” she said. “You were amazing tonight, even if you did seem a little distracted.”

  “Did I? I guess I was thinking about a lot of things.”

  “Was Kade Smith one of those things?” Chelsea teased.

  “Maybe just one,” London replied.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

  London whirled and saw Kade walking across the stage toward her. He seemed a little taller than he had the day before, and she glanced down to see that he was wearing cowboy boots. Hmm. That was pretty hot. “You’re glad to hear that you distracted me? Are you saying you wanted me to lose, Mr. Smith?”

  “I’m saying it’s kind of cool that I have the power to make you blush as red as your dress.”

  “You do not!” she protested even as she had to admit to herself that it was true.

  “Sure I do.” He reached out and stroked the side of her face. “I know you’ve got pictures to take and all that right now, but will you meet me up on the roof at midnight?”

  She loved the feel of his finger on her cheek. “The roof? At midnight? That sounds a little suspicious.”

  “Rats. I was going for intriguing.”

  She grinned. “That too. Okay, the roof at midnight it is.”

  ***

  The press kept London busy for a long time, and when she was finally able to get away, it was almost time to meet Kade. Rather than risking being late, she decided to go straight to the roof without bothering to change out of her gown.

  When she stepped out onto the roof, she was blown away by what she saw. Kade had set up a table and chairs, with candles, and the whole thing looked like Kate and Leopold. He stood there with a grin on his face, like he’d known exactly when to expect her.

  “I’m early,” she said.

  “I was earlier,” he replied.

  He took her by the hand and led her over to the table. A delicious-looking dinner was spread out for them, and for a brief second, London wished that she had taken a minute to change because that dress really didn’t let her eat much. But that thought left as quickly as it had come when Kade took his seat, reached across the table, and picked up her hand.

  “That impromptu speech tonight . . . London, I don’t think you could ever give me a better gift,” he said. “Did you mean it? You’ve forgiven me?”

  “Yes, I have,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I’m okay with you dumping water all over me, or any of that other stuff, but I’m putting it in the past and I’m looking forward to the future.”

  He smiled and stroked her knuckles with his thumb. “I can’t tell you how glad I am about that.”

  His touch was making her arm tingle. “So, what do you have in mind for this future of ours?”

  “Well, I thought we’d go on another date. Maybe even two.”

  “Dates? Wow. Very impressive. And original.”

  He squeezed her hand. “There might be dinner and dancing, or there might be a movie—we’ll just take it a day at a time.”

  “I like that idea.”

  “And there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of,” he continued.

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  He stood up, came around the table, and took both her hands, helping her to her feet. “I’m going to kiss you again,” he said, studying her eyes.

  “That’s good, because if you weren’t, I might have had to come over there and kiss you.” She loved watching the way his eyes sparkled when she teased him. Sliding her fingers through his hair, she tilted her head back and watched the fireworks go off in her head when he kissed her, sending shivers of delight all down her arms. Oh, yes—the future was going to be a lot of fun.

  THE END

  If you’d like to read more about Kade’s friend Dillon, click here for Anxious in Atlanta by Kirsten Osbourne.

  If you’d like to read more about London’s sister, Amber, click here for Rugged Rockclimber also by Amelia C. Adams.

  What’s next in the series? Check it out!

  A Kiss is Just a Kiss

  by Melinda Curtis

  Chapter One

  “I’m going to make a lot of money off Mags.”

  Dr. Kitty Summer froze outside the groom’s vestibule in her mint green taffeta bridesmaid dress, the one with the skirt wide enough to fit Kitty, a nurse, and a crash cart. The door was slightly ajar and the insensitive comment by the groom–Becker O’Brien–about the bride–Kitty’s sister Maggie–brought her to a halt. She went numb from tongue to toes.

&
nbsp; The back hallways of historic St. Christopher’s church in Boca Rotan were carpeted in red, most likely so the priests could move around without the congregation hearing. Carpeting had allowed Kitty to approach the vestibule undetected by the groom and his groomsmen.

  And to think, she’d come over to give Beck her blessing!

  Elsewhere in the church, the choir was singing softly and incoming guests were talking loudly. But the only thing Kitty heard were Beck’s insensitive words: Make a lot of money off Mags. Make a lot of money off Mags. Over and over as if her brain was caught in a loop.

  “To the groom!”

  A chorus of masculine voices echoed the sentiment. The sound of manly guffaws and backslapping was drowned out by the roar in Maggie’s ears.

  The wedding was less than thirty minutes away.

  Beck was like a gator lurking in a deep swamp. Kitty should have drained the swamp long ago.

  Guilt began to pound at her temples. Once her OB/GYN residency began, she hadn’t had time for sleep, much less time to watch over her sisters. She’d chosen herself and her goals over her family and she’d told herself that was okay. She’d told herself she wasn’t hurt when Maggie chose someone else to be her maid of honor. She’d told herself that her job shepherding her sisters was done. She’d protected the girls through childhood from the neglect of an ill mother and a callous father. They were all adults now, and capable of making their own decisions. Besides, Maggie had seemed happy.

  That happiness was threatened by Beck revealing he valued money over love. Kitty should have vetted the groom before he ever thought about getting down on one knee.

  Guilt found a jackhammer and struck from temples to eye sockets. She had to make this right.

  Kitty didn’t want Beck to marry Maggie. And she wasn’t the kind of person who stood by in an emergency wringing her hands. Which meant…

  Kitty had to stop Beck from marrying Maggie. Immediately.

  A skeleton key protruded from the lock of the vestibule door. Kitty closed the door and locked the men inside. And then she ran to the opposite side of the church to find Maggie.

  “Stop the wedding!” Kitty forced her dress through the doorway to the bride’s vestibule like a green grape being squeezed out of its skin.

  The Summer half of the wedding party–eleven other bridesmaids, her parents, Grandma Dotty, and the bride–turned to stare disapprovingly at Kitty.

  Beck’s sister was a bridesmaid. Her spray-on tan clashed with her mint green dress. She frowned.

  Kitty’s father speared his fingers through the blond highlights at his temples. He frowned.

  Standing as close together as their Scarlet O’Hara skirts allowed, Aubrey and the twins frowned.

  Maggie turned slowly in their mother’s white satin and lace princess gown, frowning, of course.

  Everyone was frowning except Kitty’s mother, who was on a heavy dose of anxiety meds, and Grandma Dotty, who smiled at Kitty as if she’d just said the cutest thing. But Dotty had been smiling like that for the past three years since she’d started down the road to Dementia, the road with increasingly fewer side trips to Saneville.

  “My sister, the joker,” Maggie said, but there were deep lines carved into the traditional make-up at her eyes as she tried to smile. Her rich brown hair was French braided to one side and fell in soft feminine ringlets over her delicate lace-covered shoulder.

  Delicate lace-covered shoulder…

  The Maggie Kitty had grown up with wouldn’t be a delicate bride. She’d be loud and non-traditional. She’d rock a wedding dress with a corset waist, black ribbon rosettes, and a streak of pink in her hair. She wouldn’t recreate their mother’s wedding day. She wouldn’t marry some high society, lowly principled scumbag.

  “I…” Kitty glanced at Beck’s sister. “Can I talk to you alone, Maggie?”

  “No.” Dad charged toward Kitty. At sixty, he should have had wrinkles and maybe a paunch. Instead, he kept himself toned with Botox and Boris, his personal trainer. He was more interested in keeping up appearances and keeping an eye out for his next lover than Maggie’s happiness. “It’s too late to back out now. We already took the bridal pictures.”

  Failure lanced through Kitty’s gut with all the ragged precision of a med student cutting his first cadaver.

  Stalling, Kitty squeezed herself and her wide skirt behind a stack of boxes that held purses, cell phones and mint green flip-flops for the beach-themed reception. “A wedding should be a sacred joining of two hearts, where the groom loves, honors and respects–” And doesn’t plan to swindle. “–the bride. That love should allow the bride to be true to herself.”

  Aubrey and the twins stopped frowning and blocked Dad’s forward progress.

  “True to herself,” Kitty repeated, wondering when she’d last seen Maggie wear heavy eye-liner or Army boots.

  “Beck is a great guy,” Maggie said in a soft voice that sounded more like Aubrey’s. “I…I love him.”

  “You don’t,” Kitty whispered, catching her sister’s hesitation. “Not really.” Maggie couldn’t love Beck. If she did, she’d be wearing a different wedding dress, getting married in Vegas, and having her reception at a Marilyn Manson concert.

  “But…” Maggie’s gaze was flat, as if she’d taken one of Mom’s Xanax pills. It drifted toward their father and her voice dropped to a whisper. “All the guests…We took pictures.”

  Who was this woman inhabiting Maggie’s body?

  Failure grew claws that raked Kitty’s insides until her stomach quivered with ribbons of despair. It couldn’t be too late. She couldn’t be too late. “That doesn’t mean–”

  “Did he cheat on me?” Maggie’s gaze bounced back to Kitty with a flicker of life. “Was he…tempted?”

  Tempted? Kitty’s despair-ravaged insides sunk to her mint green painted toes.

  This wasn’t an underwear model Maggie barely knew. This was the man who’d supposedly won Maggie’s heart and had been by her side for a year while she and their parents planned this mega-wedding.

  No one spoke. Not even Dad. Everyone seemed to be waiting for Kitty’s response.

  “I don’t know,” Kitty said slowly and at a socially acceptable volume, when what she really wanted to do was shout. “But–”

  “Kathryn.” Her father made it past the sister barricade, clamped his fingers on Kitty’s arm and tugged her toward the door. “Please wait outside, before you ruin Margaret’s day.”

  Kitty cast a glance back at Maggie, who looked as though she’d seen a ghost. The ghost of underwear models past? “Maggie?”

  “Kathryn.” Her father pushed Kitty into the hall and shut the door behind her.

  Kitty nearly sank to the red carpet, as off-kilter and shell-shocked as a woman unexpectedly transitioning to active labor.

  This was a disaster. She had less than ten minutes to stop the wedding.

  And she could only think of one way to do it.

  *

  The spectacle was about to begin–Beck O’Brien’s wedding.

  Regardless of who he married, Beck had expected some pomp. He’d anticipated his bride would want a lavish ceremony. He was a New Yorker, born and raised. New York was the home of the debutante, and the hub of high fashion. An uptown New Yorker’s wedding was large, lavish, and luxurious.

  So he’d smiled when the woman he’d chosen to be his bride wanted twelve attendants. He’d smiled when she wanted to be married in Boca Raton in the same church where her mother and grandmother had taken their vows. And he’d smiled when she wanted to take pictures for two hours this morning.

  Because his bride was great. She complimented him in every way–steady when he was volatile, kind when he forgot to be, and forgiving of his long hours. She’d be a vet within the year. How perfect was that for a horse breeder? His bride was as comfortable to him as Bingley, his Golden Retriever.

  Sure, she’d been snapping at him these past two weeks like an abused horse in a too-small pen. Sure, she’d been
drinking too much leading up to the big day. And sure, she’d felt like a stranger in his arms this morning during their photo shoot. Chalk it up to nerves.

  Why should Beck worry? Everything was going his way. Beck was having a great year. His colt O’Brien’s Free Ride had come in third at the Kentucky Derby. He had two horses with riders in the dressage Olympic training program. He was engaged to be married. And his soon-to-be father-in-law was giving him a filly as a wedding gift, a horse with a pedigree tracing back to Man O’War.

  Life couldn’t be better.

  Beck attributed the sweat at the back of his neck to the discovery thirteen minutes before the wedding that he’d been locked in the groom’s vestibule. But he’d been rescued in time to stand at the altar before one thousand wedding guests–one of thirteen men.

  Thirteen…

  Beck’s head pounded and his skin felt too tight, as if he’d been out in the Florida sun too long.

  He was a horseman, from a long line of horsemen. And horsemen were a superstitious lot. Thirteen was an unlucky number. Seeing your bride before the ceremony was unlucky, too. Just this morning, his horseshoe charm had disappeared off his key ring. If he’d been entering a horse in a race, he would’ve bet against him.

  But today–his wedding day–wasn’t about superstitions or lucky charms. The long-awaited production that was his wedding was about to start. There was no time for second thoughts.

  Not that he had any. Not any at all.

  Beck tugged at his bow tie.

  The music began for the bridesmaid procession and the first bridesmaid appeared. It was Kitty. Like all bridesmaids, her dress was the color of a bright margarita (his favorite mixed drink–there was a sign!). The wedding planner had insisted the bridesmaids needed full skirts to balance the massive girth of Maggie’s dress. Getting within kissing distance of his bride for pictures this morning had been about as tricky as walking with Bingley after he’d been neutered and wore a plastic cone around his neck.

  Kitty was walking faster than they’d rehearsed, her steps out of sync with the music. She’d always stood out to him among her sisters–the shortest in height, the most delicate features, the darkest hair color, the most intense way of looking at a man. Of looking at him. As if he’d never measure up to her standards.