Page 9 of Always a Bridesmaid

Wayne’s ears turned red and he cleared his throat. “I think my mom meant, could you take one of me, my lovely bride-to-be, and my parents?”

Well, shit. He’d read that scenario wrong. Maybe the woman at the airport had been right and his head was floating in an ego-filled cloud. At that moment, something inside shifted toward Wayne and his family. He still didn’t trust the bloke as far as he could throw him, but there was a bead of respect starting to form.

“Of course, mate,” Henry said, taking the camera.

He was about to snap the picture when something floral and feminine wrapped around him, tickling his dick. He turned to find the redhead standing beside him and, holy Christ, her body was even better than he’d thought. Full, tight bum, pinched-in waist, and tits that would fit perfectly in his palms. Then there was her profile. Long thick lashes, even longer elegant neck, a pert nose, and lush pouty lips that were created for kissing.

She tapped a finger to her chin in consideration. “Can I try something?”

“Sure,” Sarah said, but Henry noticed his sister’s shoulders tense with nerves as her eyes jumped between the two of them.

“Sarah, if you don’t mind, I’d like to shift you all slightly for a better composition. It will make all the difference. I swear.”

“You’re the professional when it comes to snapping pics.”

With her back to him, Red went to work. She gently but surely placed and positioned everyone like a pro, and sure enough it looked like a catalog ad, only more personal. Everyone looked their best, but the bride and groom were the center focus. As they should be since it was their moment.

He was thinking that maybe she was the wedding photographer when she turned to him and asked with a brilliant smile, “May I borrow the camera?” and he stopped thinking altogether.

It was her. The girl from the airport. He’d considered her beautiful then, but she was stunning now, breathtaking even. Based on her smile and the fact that she hadn’t gone for a knee to the crotch, she still hadn’t a clue as to who he was.

“By all means,” he said, and as he gave her the phone, her smile didn’t even falter. Her gaze, however, narrowed at his voice and her brows crumpled on top of each other in consideration. She was trying to place him. “Hi, love,” he added, and her mouth fell open in the perfectOof surprise. Her face blanched and she looked as if she just might puke on his shoes.

This complicated everything. Not only was she his sister’s photographer, but she was also immune to his charms. As proof, she sent him a glare cold enough to cryogenically freeze his nuts, then snatched the phone and turned her back to him.

“Perfect,” she said in that hoity-toity voice of hers. “Now smile.”

She snapped a few pictures, then handed the camera to Sarah to sign off.

“These are beautiful,” Sarah said, showing the group who all agreed.

“What do you think, Hank?” Debbie said, showing him the screen, and he could have sworn Red snorted under her breath at the American’s nickname.

“A great family portrait.”

“I agree.” Debbie kissed Red’s cheek. “Thank you, sweetie. You’re always such a lifesaver.”

Maybe she wasn’t the photographer. Maybe she was here with Wayne’s family. That complicated things even more. It didn’t put a complete kibosh on his plan, there was the wager at stake after all, but it did tangle things a bit more.

“It was my pleasure,” Red said, taking the phone back. “Now that the pictures are finished, I will head over and drop this off at check-in. We don’t want the other guests getting nervous.”

“Wait,” Sarah said, grabbing Red’s arm. “Elle, I want to introduce you to my brother.”

Elle.He let that roll around in his mind. The name fit her designer dress and upper crust vocabulary, but somehow didn’t fit her. In fact, something about her seemed different as well, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Hank,” she said, sticking out her hand.

“Oh, I thought you Americans were all huggers?” Before she could move, he pulled her into his arms. Once her soft curves were pressed against his hard planes, he second-guessed his decision. He loved a woman with curves. A perfect hourglass figure, if you asked him. A figure that could take him the entire week to fully explore.

“Let go,” she ground out.

“So is this how we’re going to play it? As strangers?” he whispered.

“We are strangers,” she whispered back with venom.

“If you say so. Anyway, it’s good to see you again, love.”

“I assure you. The feeling is not mutual.”

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