The Right Bride

Chapter Eight


“THE LITTLE BITCH ruined my dress.” Shelly scrubbed at her sleeve and tried to clean the mashed potatoes and gravy out.

“God, my throat hurts. I’ll be fat as a cow if I keep eating out all the time.”

Pale, even her anger didn’t add color back into her gaunt cheeks after she’d thrown up her dinner. She hated to end a perfectly good meal this way, but with all the rich foods and decadent desserts, along with the booze, she couldn’t afford all the extra calories. Still, she couldn’t keep this up and wished she could stop. She wanted to stop, but the compulsion overtook her good sense. Too many times she promised herself it was the last time.

She set aside her concerns and focused on her immediate frustration. “When I get my hands on her, I’ll ring her neck. Two hundred dollars spent to impress a man who’s more interested in the little mess maker than me. Damn the little bitch,” she said under her breath and continued to scrub the stain.

Marti heard the woman getting sick in the stall across from hers. She’d thought the woman was ill, now she reevaluated her assumption. The woman had some obvious problems, ranting at herself in the mirror and throwing up her dinner so she wouldn’t gain any weight. Marti thought better to eat less and enjoy it than throw it up. But to each his own.

She flushed the toilet, thankful she no longer had to pee. She’d forgotten all about it after the meeting with the lawyers and her marathon getting-dressed session. She left the hotel without doing her business. When she finally relaxed in the cab on the way to the restaurant, she realized she still had to go and had forgotten all about it. She hated when that happened. She hated to keep George waiting, but better to get her business out of the way rather than say, “Hi. I’ve got to pee, back in a minute.”

She exited the stall. The other woman’s eyes went wide with surprise. Obviously, she’d thought she’d been alone after the server left. Marti washed her hands and ignored her. She left feeling sorry for whoever she confronted over the ruined dress.

She spotted George talking to some people and headed for him. “George, I’m so sorry I’m late.” She turned toward the people he was speaking to before she arrived. “Hello.”

“Cameron, Elizabeth, this is Marti.” He left out her last name, remembering their conversation earlier in the day. Cameron’s face went from distressed to intrigued in a flash. Interesting. Handsome, her stomach fluttered with nerves, but she smiled even though he didn’t.

“I’m pleased to meet you both,” Marti said and shook their hands. His was rough and warm.

A little girl barreled out of the kitchen’s swinging doors and skipped toward them. She looked so cute dressed in a dark green jumper and covered in white powder. She had it everywhere from the top of her golden head and all down her dress.

The woman from the bathroom rushed toward the girl looking fit to kill and calling to her. Marti stepped away from the table, her instinct to protect kicked into gear.

“You come here, right now.” Far enough from the table, none of the others heard her nasty tone. The woman quickened her pace toward the little girl. The girl sensed trouble and ran toward Marti.

“You come here right now, you little . . .”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Marti scooped up the little girl into her arms and glared over her shoulder at the irate woman.

Everyone behind her went silent. Marti took two steps back with the girl, who had a choke hold around her neck. Marti ran her hand over her golden hair and down her back. “It’s okay, Sugar Bug. You’re fine now. I have you.”

She glared at the other woman. Cameron stood from the table and moved in beside her.

“Shelly, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry. She ruined my dress, and I just lost my head. I didn’t mean any harm, but the child needs discipline.”

“If my daughter needs anything, I’ll be the one to give it to her. Now sit down. You’re making a scene. It’s just a dress, for God’s sake. I’ll buy you a new one,” he said under his breath. She brushed past him. Her intentional rub against his chest with her breasts wasn’t lost on him. He inwardly cringed the moment she touched him, and he didn’t know why. She was a beautiful woman by any standard, but the blatant flirtation at this moment didn’t seem appropriate.

Although they stood in a private area of the restaurant, people stared through the archway and listened to the commotion.

Cameron looked at his daughter and Marti holding her so lovingly. He’d just met the woman, but he felt like he knew her, recognized her in some way. He had a hard time fighting the strange pull toward her. Especially when he saw his daughter in her arms, locked around her with absolute trust.

Emma sat back, hands on Marti’s shoulders, and asked, “How come you called me ‘Sugar Bug?’”

“Because you, little one, are covered from head to toe in sugar. I thought the name was appropriate and sweet, like you. I won’t call you it if you don’t want me to.”

“I like it. It’s nice. That’s my dad.”

“I just met him. I’m Marti.”

“Hi, Marti. I’m Emma. Emma Shaw. My dad is president.”

“He’s president of the Sugar Bugs.” Marti smiled hugely, mischief lighting her eyes.

Emma giggled. “No. He’s president of this building.”

Marti looked appropriately astonished. “Wow. President of a whole building. Now that is impressive. I don’t have such a fancy job as president. I’ve been a pirate for the last year.”

“Really? Awesome.”

“Totally awesome. Sometime I’ll tell you all about it.”

Marti wiped the tears drying on the child’s cheeks. She leaned in and whispered into her ear. The little girl laughed uproariously.

Emma turned to her father. “What do you call a witch who casts spells with sand?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“A sand witch.” Emma smiled and laughed again at the joke. She turned back to Marti and wrapped her arms around her neck. “You’re nice.”

Marti closed her eyes and hugged the girl tight. “You’re nice too, Sugar Bug.”

Emma called over her shoulder, “Hi, Knight.”

Marti turned to see George looking at the little girl with pure worship. “Hello, Princess. How are you?”

“I’m better now.”

“Yes, I can see that.” He saw a lot more. Like the way Cameron watched Marti like a man who’d just discovered water in the desert.

Emma’s reaction to Marti was unusual. She was affectionate to Elizabeth and Jenna, but she was downright attached to Marti. Cameron had never seen her take to anyone so fast.

Emma wouldn’t let go of Marti and Marti looked pleased to have his daughter in her arms, dirty or not. She didn’t look like she’d put her down willingly.

“What’s the matter, Shelly? Dinner didn’t come up quite so easily tonight?” Elizabeth asked.

Shelly frowned, looked from Elizabeth to Cameron and knew just what they were both thinking. She had to cover her tracks and get back in Cameron’s good graces. When she glanced at Emma in the woman’s arms, she had the most brilliant idea. She’d seen the way Cameron looked at the woman, and she wasn’t about to give up without a fight.

She turned to Elizabeth. “Is this how you treat all of your pregnant guests?” She locked eyes with Cameron, unable to hide her triumphant grin.

Brilliant, simply brilliant, she thought. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but she’s making accusations. I won’t have you thinking the worst of me. Isn’t it wonderful, darling?”

Stunned at first, Elizabeth recovered. She looked pointedly at the martini glass, at Cameron, and back to Shelly. “Pregnant. Me too.” She smoothed her hand over her stomach. She’d actually given birth to her daughter, Grace, five months ago. “Darn, I’m not.”

She glared at Shelly and called her a liar. “Saying it doesn’t make it true.”

The woman had a lot of nerve saying she was pregnant and belting back martinis two days in a row. Elizabeth was furious.

Cameron’s faced changed from stunned back to distressed again. He ran his hand over the back of his neck and found himself at a loss for words. His daughter was right there in the thick of this mess. He was not having a good night. After tonight, he’d lost any chance of ever getting a “Parent of the Year” award.

If he thought himself a supreme jackass before, tonight he’d earned the crown.