Page 2 of Always a Bridesmaid

Jane grabbed the handle of her roller bag and took a step toward her future. Only before she could take another, some jerk took a step of his own—right in front of her, cutting her off and nearly knocking her on her ass.

“Excuse me.” She held her ball cap to her blond hair before it fell off.

“Sorry, love. I didn’t see you there,” a man who sounded exactly like Mr. Darcy said. And Jane loved her some Darcy. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said, sounding a little breathless. But if there were ever a man to get breathless over it would be him. Her Dreamy Darcy was at least six feet, with lean muscles for days, and big masculine hands. One of which was holding her elbow, strong and secure, steadying her as she gathered her bearings.

Jane wasn’t really looking for a man. In fact, between Bride Buddies and renovating her dilapidated bungalow in downtown Austin, she didn’t have time for a man. But she could appreciate a good one when she quite literally bumped into him.

“Next time try signaling before merging into traffic,” he said all cute-like, but she didn’t find it cute. Was he blaming this on her? What a jerk!

“No harm, no foul. But I’m running late, so if you’ll excuse me.” Jane started for the counter and again he cut her off.

There was that smile again. “Normally, I’d say ladies first.”

“Let me guess? Today isn’t normal.”

“Sorry, love. You aren’t the only one running late.” He went to move to the counter, and she grabbed his arm.

“Hey! There’s a line and it starts back there.”

“Iwasin line.” The jerk jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the roped-in area that looked like the red carpet at a Hollywood event. Which was fitting since he was dressed like he was going for a jaunt down Wilshire Boulevard. He was just in jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket, but they all screamed money. Then there were the mirrored sunglasses. Who wore sunglasses inside an airport? “Since I’m in first class, I’m next.”

“First class checks in there.” Jane pointed to the check-in counter that was occupied. “This is economy.” She held up her boarding pass. “See? Economy.”

“First class checks in at the first available counter,” he informed her. Even with the mirrored glasses and his ball cap shadowing his face she could see the smugness in his eyes.

“Says who?”

“The rules.”

He flashed her a smile that had her heart doing a strange little flip. Blaming it on heartburn, she said, “Yeah, the sexy charm and dimple? That”—she pointed to his face—“doesn’t work on me.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

She rolled her eyes. “More like an asshole. And you’re missing the whole point.”

“Am I?”

“God, it’s like your head is floating in an ego-filled cloud.”

A flash went off and Jane saw spots. When her vision came back to normal Dickhead Darcy looked nervous. He was tugging his hat low on his head and trying to make himself smaller.

“Please, love. May I just check in my bags and be on my way?”

“If you hadn’t told me to use my blinker I might have said yes, but you had to be an ass about it.” Another camera went off. And another. She looked behind her and people were snapping pictures of Dickhead Darcy. Not wanting to get her face caught in a single photo, because doing her job meant keeping a sense of anonymity, she turned her back to the crowd.

“Who are you?” she asked him.

“Nobody special.”

“I don’t like liars.”

He laughed and his shoulders relaxed. Her body was as tense as a coil. She didn’t like all the whispers and phone cameras going off—all the attention. But he seemed to expect it.

“Are you always that direct?”

“With liars I am.”

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