Drop Dead Gorgeous Read online

  I was so relieved I could barely stand it. I still had to find the perfect fabric, but finding fabric is much easier than finding the perfect ready-made gown. If I’d been prepared to settle for something that merely looked good I wouldn’t have been so worried, but I’m not the best in the world at “settling.” Sometimes I have to, but I don’t like it.

  Over lunch we told Dad and Wyatt how Sally was saving the day. “She needs something to get her mind off Jazz, too,” Mom said.

  Wyatt’s gaze met mine and I saw his expression. It isn’t that he doesn’t get Mom’s and my position on the matter, which is that Jazz deserved being hit with a car for what he did, because I’ve explained it to him; it’s that his cop instincts are outraged. He looks at Sally trying to ram Jazz with her car as attempted murder, even though Jazz jumped out of the way and wasn’t hurt, and he thinks Jazz should have reported the incident to the police and pressed charges against her. Sometimes I think his sense of right and wrong is a little warped by all those criminal justice classes he took in college.

  He didn’t say anything, but I knew he wasn’t happy about Sally making my dress; I also knew he’d have plenty to say when we were alone, but he wasn’t going to start an argument in front of my parents, especially when it was about Mom’s best friend. The glint in his eyes, though, told me we’d be discussing it plenty when we were alone.

  I didn’t mind. I was in an unassailable position. No matter what decision was made about any part of our wedding, it was All His Fault, because his deadline was what had precipitated the rush. I just love unassailable positions—so long as I’m the one occupying them.

  He barely waited until I was buckled into the seat of the Avalanche before he attacked. “Can’t you find someone else to make your wedding dress?”

  “There isn’t enough time,” I said sweetly.

  He saw right away where that was going, and detoured. “She tried to kill her husband.”

  I gave a wave of my hand. “I don’t see the connection between that and making my dress. And I’ve told you: she didn’t try to kill him, she just wanted to maim him a little.”

  He shot me an unreadable glance. “Two days ago I watched a videotape of someone trying to hit you with a car. Don’t talk to me about ‘maiming a little.’ A car is deadly. She was going so fast she couldn’t stop before she hit the house. If Jazz hadn’t jumped out of the way, he’d have been pinned between the car and the house. Do I have to find scene photographs to show you the damage that can be done to the human body in situations like that?”

  Damn it all to hell and back, I absolutely hate it when he makes a point that overrides my unassailable position.

  He was right. Viewed from his vantage point as a cop, which meant he regularly saw things that would give me nightmares, he was right. Sally had acted with complete disregard for Jazz’s life and well-being. Not only that, I knew that if our positions were reversed and I’d watched someone try to kill Wyatt, I wouldn’t be the least forgiving about it.

  “Shit.”

  One of his level brows lifted. “Does that mean you agree?”

  “It means I see your point.” I tried not to sound sulky. I don’t think I succeeded, because he hid a quick grin.

  This was now a sticky wicket, because Sally had already agreed to make my dress; not only that, she was excited about it, because Sally loves my sisters and me almost as much as she loves her own kids. We’re like family. I couldn’t find someone else to make the dress now without really hurting her feelings. For that matter, in the short length of time I had, I probably couldn’t find anyone else to make the dress, period.

  I wasn’t dumb enough to bang my head against the dashboard in frustration, but I felt like it.

  Wyatt had caused this dilemma by using common sense. That’s cheating. So I threw it back in his lap. That’s only fair, right? “Okay, here’s the deal: I’m really, really short on time. The odds are I won’t be able to get the dress made by a professional, because they’ll all already be booked. It’s possible I can find what I want ready-made, but I didn’t find anything in the mall and I haven’t found anything online. If you insist, I’ll somehow find a way to back out of letting Sally make my dress, but, you’ll have to live with the consequences if I have to get married in whatever dress I can find at the last minute.”

  I was deadly serious in my tone and expression, maybe because I was deadly serious. I wasn’t taking this lightly. I had a dream, a vision of how I wanted my wedding to him to be, and a big part of that dream was seeing the look in his eyes when I walked toward him wearing this killer gown. It was a moment something in me needed, something that had taken a big hit when I found out my ex was unfaithful. I didn’t go around whining about it all the time, but I hadn’t escaped my first marriage totally baggage-free; I had a couple of small carry-ons that had to be dealt with.

  He gave me a quick, piercing look, gauging my sincerity. Really, I don’t know why he didn’t just take what I said at face value. Okay, so I do know. Probably it should bother me that the man I love doesn’t trust me, but it would bother me a whole lot more if he were fool enough that he did trust me. I’m not talking about cheating on him sexually or emotionally because that wasn’t going to happen, but in our own private little battle for relationship turf, all strategies were fair. He’d made that rule himself, with his damn-the-torpedoes, get-her-at-all-costs pursuit of me. Actually, he hadn’t even pursued me; he’d grabbed me and refused to let go.

  Remembering that gave me a little flutter, both in my heart and farther down, and I squirmed a little.

  He swore under his breath, jerking his gaze back to the street. “Damn it, stop squirming. You do that every time you think about sex.”

  “I do?” Maybe I did. But he was…squirmworthy.

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel, reminding me that we hadn’t made love since Wednesday night, and it was now Sunday. He’d relieved some of my tension the night before, but as good as he was with his hands and mouth it just wasn’t the same as his penis. Some things are made to go together, you know?

  Wyatt, on the other hand, hadn’t had any relief unless he’d taken care of the matter while he showered. Considering the whiteness of his knuckles, I didn’t think he had.

  “We were talking about Sally,” he said, his tone rough and tense.

  I fought to bring my thoughts back on subject. “I’ve told you what I think.”

  He took a couple of breaths. “Exactly what will be the consequences if you don’t get married in this dress you want so much?”

  “I don’t know,” I said simply. “I just know it’ll hurt me.”

  “Shit,” he muttered. He doesn’t mind driving me nuts, making me angry, or frustrating the hell out of me, but he’ll move heaven and earth to keep from hurting me. Every women should be loved like that. My heart swelled, or it felt as if it did. That’s a scary sensation, too, because if your heart really swelled it could probably tear some of the plumbing lines loose, or something.

  He was silent for about two blocks and I began to tense, wondering what he was thinking. Wyatt’s too smart to let him think for long, or he’ll come up with—

  “Get them back together,” he said.

  My brain felt as if all the gray stuff was suddenly squeezed together. “What?” Damn it, damn it! Was he serious? I assumed he was talking about Sally and Jazz, but their own children couldn’t even get them in the same room together. I should have interrupted him at least a block back, jerked the steering wheel or something, or maybe clutched my head and fallen over, except then he’d have taken me to the ER again, and I’d had enough of that place.

  “Sally and Jazz,” he said, confirming my fear that he was trying to completely derail me. “Get them back together. Make them sit down and talk this out. I figure if you can get Jazz to move past his wife trying to kill him, then I’ll have to admit I’m taking this too seriously.”

  “Are you nuts?” I shrieked, rounding on him, which wasn’t a go