Get real, Sophie. Those girls are beautiful, successful, and waaaay better suited to Logan. She could easily picture organized Julie, with her blond hair and cover-girl smile, on his arm at a fund-raiser, or the alluring, flame-haired Christine, hosting a dinner party for one of his important business contacts, or sultry, sassy Regan doing…whatever she darn well pleased, and leaving him begging for more.
Logan lived a “look at me” kind of life, whether it was “look at me climb this mountain,” or “look at me take my company from niche-market start-up to high-growth upstart in less than five years.” She, on the other hand, strove to get through her days without drawing a second glance, and no matter how much she pushed herself to change, the fundamental aspects of her nature would always remain. So no, they’d never work in the long-term, but why not for one night of excitement and passion?
The bubbles in her champagne whispered, “Want in on that bridesmaid pact after all?” Why yes, she did, even if she’d only admit as much to the champagne. She gulped the rest of her drink, for courage, and slid out of the booth with the notion of intercepting Logan before he returned to the table. From there, her plans got as fuzzy as her head. Seduction wasn’t her strong suit.
A quick scan of the room told her she hadn’t attracted any attention, except…shoot, Kady looked over just then and their eyes met. Her nerves jittered. Silly, because the Drescos, including her soon-to-be sister-in-law, had never been anything but kind. They were the sort of tight-knit family who pulled out all the stops for stuff like Thanksgiving and Christmas, while her parents had often played an uncivil game of “not it” when it came to taking her and Colt for the holidays. Tyler and Colt were close friends, and she suspected the Drescos sometimes got wind of the fact that Colt was about to be ping-ponged for the holidays.
On those occasions, they’d invited him to join them, and were kind enough to extend their hospitality to her. Though three years older, and in a whole different universe when it came to looks and popularity, Kady had always taken the trouble to make her feel welcome. Even so, the socially awkward nerdy girl lurking inside Sophie still got a little intimidated at the prospect of interacting with her. But interact she would, because Kady disengaged from the group of people she’d been chatting with and headed for Sophie. Next thing she knew she was wrapped in a quick hug.
“There you are! I wondered if you’d stood us up tonight.”
“Oh. Sorry. I waved to Colt when I arrived, but I skipped circulating because…” She glanced down at her outfit.
Kady’s brow wrinkled as she took in the oversize button-down shirt and jeans. “You forgot to pack a cocktail dress?”
“Not exactly. I packed an appropriate outfit, but earlier today I sent my dresses to the hotel laundry to get the wrinkles steamed out and they seem to have”—she shrugged—“misplaced them.”
“Oh, that sucks. If they don’t find them, make sure they reimburse you for… Wait a minute…” Kady grasped her forearm. “Did you give them your bridesmaid’s dress?”
Whoops. She shouldn’t have brought this up. Not cool to distract the bride with a detail like this in the middle of a party. “I did, but don’t worry. The manager promises they’re doing everything they can to find the dresses. If they don’t, no worries, I’ll just attend the wedding as a guest rather than a bridesmaid—”
“No. That’s not an option.” The hand on her forearm tightened. “You’re Colt’s sister. My sister-in-law. We want you up there with us. Have you told Julie? Has she spoken to the manager? I need this guy to understand they absolutely, positively have to find that dress.” Kady released her arm and looked toward the exit. “In fact, I should tell him myself. Let’s go.”
Smooth, Sophie. Drag the bride away from the welcome dinner. She dug in her heels. “Wait. There’s no need to hunt down the hotel manager. Logan spoke to him. Management assured us they’d find my dresses.”
That seemed to calm Kady down. “Logan spoke to him?”
“Yes.” She nodded for emphasis and almost lost her balance.
“Okay. Good. That’s good.” She took a slow breath. “I’ll still tell Julie, just so she can keep an eye on this situation, too. Don’t worry. You’re going to be standing at the front of the church in that beautiful blue dress, come hell or high water.” With that, she strode off to find the maid of honor.
Sophie swallowed the wave of nausea Kady’s declaration provoked. Determined to shake it off, she wandered to a corner of the lounge, where someone—probably Julie—had set up photo montages of Colt and Kady. Colt at two, dressed like a cowboy for Halloween. Colt, Brock, and Reed, all skinny-armed and wide-toothed, standing by the river near Dad’s house in Tennessee. The next photo coaxed a laugh out of her. Same day, three seconds later—Colt and Reed tossing Brock into the water. Hard to believe those three trouble magnets were all functioning members of society now.
Heck, in less than a week, her I’m-never-getting-married brother would be a husband, and after that, someday, possibly even a father. All the more remarkable considering their parents hadn’t been role models for domestic bliss, much less amicable divorce. They’d split shortly after Sophie had been born. She always suspected she was a “save the marriage” baby who hadn’t done the trick, but she’d take that over the ringside seat to their constant bickering that Colt had been stuck in during his formative years. He’d decided early on there was no such thing as everlasting love—at least not for a Brooks—and vowed never to chase the delusion of happily ever after.
For a long time she’d worried he’d never change his mind and open himself to the idea of love, marriage, and family. But somehow, miraculously, Kady had changed all that. For her, he’d managed to push the fear and cynicism out of his heart and take a chance on happiness. And he’d found it. The thought had Sophie blinking back tears until another photo caught her eye. She nearly choked on her own tongue.
Oh, good God. It was a picture of Colt and her, at Colt’s college graduation. There he stood, tall and proud in his cap and gown. There she stood, short and dumpy, wearing one of the bulky sweatshirts that had been her trademark since eighth grade, when nature had suddenly “blessed” her with the biggest boobs anybody in her middle school had ever seen. Shiny red cheeks, a constellation of zits on her forehead, and a botched home perm completed the catastrophe. She’d hoped the curls would make her look like Keri Russell. Her Mom had taken one look and pronounced her a dead ringer for “the frizzy-haired girl from Harry Potter.” Sadly, Mom was always right about that kind of stuff.
She forced her attention away from the horror and her gaze landed on a picture of Colt and Logan at Yosemite. She registered Bridalveil Fall in the background despite never taking her eyes off Logan. Twenty-something, shirtless Logan. Twenty-something, sweaty, shirtless Logan, smiling into the camera and giving off the same glow she’d basked in all evening and longed to bask in all night—if she could somehow talk him into it.
While she tried to get her heart to stop racing at the prospect of luring Logan back to her room, she let her eyes scan the other montage. Big mistake. The Kady collection included photos of the lovely bride-to-be, in college, surrounded by her equally lovely sorority sisters. There was one of Kady and the girls on the beach in Mexico, looking like Sports Illustrated swimsuit models. A younger but no less authoritative Tyler stood behind them, warning every male in the vicinity off with a proprietary gaze that, interestingly, seemed particularly focused on Christine.
She homed in on a photo of Kady, in bikini and chaps, standing in front of a mechanical bull. Christine stood beside her, laughing as she placed a silly, sparkly crown on Kady’s head. Julie, in denim shorts and cowboy boots, beamed down from astride the bull. Regan held court on Kady’s opposite side, aiming a sly, sideways smile at a group of frat guys while she pretended to smack the bull on the butt.
Not an awkward phase to be found. These fun-loving, extroverted girls attracted men simply by breathing, and seeing them reminded her that even if she
were tipsy enough to try to seduce Logan, she’d have to get in line since Julie and Regan had basically rock-paper-scissored last night to decide which one of them went after the best man. Her eyes drifted back to her picture, and then to Logan’s, and her heart sank. Who was she kidding? She didn’t stand a chance.
Her sinking heart reversed course and nearly leaped out of her throat when Reed and Brock materialized out of nowhere and flanked her. Holy smokes, had they noticed her drooling at Logan’s picture? Please no. She’d never hear the end of it if they suspected she had the hots for the best man.
…
Logan leaned against the wall in the alcove leading to the restrooms and listened with half an ear while his CFO, Peter Pinderski, droned on about the target’s new list of concerns. Sophie claimed the better part of his attention by wandering over to the corner of the lounge where someone had set up the obligatory “The Story of Colt & Kady” photo boards. He watched her peruse the snapshots and found himself smiling.
“The target wants to review all these issues with you personally before they’ll proceed. The board wants the acquisition agreement signed before quarter-end. We’re between a rock and a hard place. I hate to say this, Logan, but we need you back here ASAP.”
His smile disappeared. “ASAP is after the wedding.” He stated it firmly, because he’d made commitments to Colt when he’d agreed to be best man, and he intended to honor them. While he watched, the most interesting of those commitments jumped like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar when Brock and Reed sidled up to her. Though he’d only just met the guys, he wasn’t worried about their intentions. The two groomsmen knew Sophie from way back—back to the summers Colt and Sophie spent in Tennessee with their dad. They no doubt shared his view of her as Colt’s shy, adorable, strictly off-limits little sister. Then again, he was having a real problem remembering the “strictly off-limits” part. Who’s to say the other guys weren’t having the same difficulty?
Peter’s voice cut into that disconcerting thought. “After the wedding might be too late. I’m telling you, the target is having second thoughts, and this deal has hit the skids. We need you here to grease them, like, now, because they don’t want assurances from me, or the accountants, or the lawyers. They want them from you. They’re not feeling your commitment.”
Brock moved into Sophie’s personal space, directed a shit-eating, Southern-boy grin at her, and…tapped her on the nose. What the hell was that? Sophie blinked up at him like a baby fox unaware she was playing with a wolf. Logan took a step forward and prepared to intercede if Brock made another move on her.
“They’re not going to get anything from me until next week. Look, I’m on vacation. I haven’t had one in two fucking years and I’m taking five lousy days for my best friend’s wedding, so anyone questioning my commitment to the deal is out of line. But there’s stuff happening here that requires my attention. We have a whole team assembled back there to manage every facet of the transaction. If we can’t ink this thing without me doing a command performance every time the target needs a hug, then our deal team is a waste of time and money, and we’re not ready to execute.”
“The deal team is solid. I’ve already rallied them, reviewed the issue list, and we’re working to resolve as many as we can while you’re out-of-pocket. The problem is all the apparent and actual authority at Defy Gravity resides with you. To investors, analysts, and everybody else, you are Defy Gravity…founder, president, and CEO. You’re the man, and people want to deal with the man. I wholeheartedly agree you need to be able to get away every now and again to recharge. But if you want a life, you’re going to have to officially delegate some of your control. Appoint someone else as CEO. Hire a VP of strategy to spearhead acquisitions. Find a spokesperson to represent the brand.”
Logan pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose to try to block the pressure building behind his eyes, and silently admitted Peter was right. He’d constructed this prison for himself, and he held the keys—which made him his own worst enemy. But the thought of relinquishing control over something he’d built from the ground up, something his friends and family had sunk their savings into, not to mention an entity that now employed hundreds of people, seemed tantamount to admitting he couldn’t handle the demands. It made him feel like a slacker, or worse, a failure. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m still thinking about it.”