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‘I told you hooker underwear had its uses,’ Daisy commented. Standing, she gave a contented sigh. ‘My job is done. You look sensational.’ She smiled. ‘But the big question is—how do you feel? Do you like it?’
Juno pivoted on her toes to take another quick look over her shoulder at the way the cut-out in the gown’s back plunged tantalisingly close to the upper slope of her buttocks. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
She’d never worn anything so beautiful before in her life—or so revealing. This wasn’t just out-there, it was over the hill and far away.
She studied the full effect in the mirror again. The bouncy little bob Daisy’s hairdresser had fashioned out of her haphazard thatch of blonde curls that morning; the dash of lip gloss and mascara that made her fairly ordinary features look exotic; and her slim figure enhanced by the sleek bronze satin of the gown.
Daisy had made her look and feel sexy for the first time in her life. But did she have the guts to pull it off? When she’d decided to unlock her femininity she hadn’t had anything quite this liberating in mind.
‘I feel like a different person,’ she said truthfully.
‘Different good? Or different bad?’
Emotion clogged Juno’s throat as her eyes met Daisy’s in the mirror. ‘Different scared but excited.’
Daisy grinned. ‘Excited is good.’ She touched Juno’s arm. ‘And scared is to be expected. You’re going to knock them dead.’ She plucked a tissue out of her dressing gown and folded Juno’s fingers over it. ‘But remember, no upstaging of the bride is allowed. And you mustn’t cry, or your mascara will run and make you look like a raccoon.’
A giggle popped out of Juno’s mouth, the flutter of anticipation making her feel a little giddy. ‘Good to know.’
Had she ever felt so young or carefree before in her life?
Juno clutched the bridal bouquet as goosebumps rose on her bare arms and she tried to concentrate on the heavily accented voice of the minister. The fragrant scent of blooming orchids and calla lillies perfumed the air as Daisy held Connor’s hand and repeated her vows in a clear, steady voice. The elaborate beading on the bodice of Daisy’s wedding dress sparkled in the light from the stained-glass window and made Juno think of a fairy-tale princess.
She smoothed her palm over the bronze satin of her gown and smiled, letting the buoyant feeling intoxicate her. She’d stopped believing in happy-ever-afters so long ago, but being here in this beautiful place and watching Daisy declare her love for Connor made anything seem possible. She sniffed, trying to grab a dose of reality and keep her whimsy in check.
Make-up emergencies aside, she had to control herself. Daisy had worked hard for her happy-ever-after and had found the man of her dreams against all the odds. In her experience men like Connor were rarer than fifty-carat diamonds. She needed to remember that before she got all dewy-eyed. And anyway, getting back down the aisle without falling on her bum in the four-inch heels Daisy had insisted she wear was going to be tough enough. Dissolving into tears would only make it tougher.
She frowned as the minister’s musical voice was interrupted by a round of shuffles and coughs and hissed whispers. The hairs at her nape tingled and she had the peculiar sensation someone was watching her. She risked a glance over her shoulder. Most of the congregation were craning their necks to stare at something at the back of the small rural church.
She heard Daisy’s quick in-drawn breath at the same moment her eyes focused on the shadowy figure standing by the entrance door. And every last molecule of blood drained out of her head and slammed straight into her heart.
Him? It couldn’t be.
She blinked furiously, sure she had to be seeing things. But she wasn’t. The man who had been a star player in far too many of her dreams over the last two weeks appeared to be staring straight at her. His head dipped and she could have sworn she felt his gaze rake over her figure.
‘Connor, it’s Mac. He came.’ She heard the delight in Daisy’s hushed voice as a battalion of butterflies dive-bombed into her stomach.
‘Well, now.’ Connor sounded as shell-shocked as Juno felt.
The minister coughed deliberately, a pinched expression on his face at the interruption.
‘Excusez-moi, monsieur,’ Daisy addressed him in her atrocious French. ‘Une momento s’il vous plaÎt, un personne tres important est arrive. Une momento.’
She grasped Connor’s hand. ‘We have to welcome him.’
Juno stayed rooted to the spot, watching as if in slow motion, her heart punching her ribs, as Daisy hoisted up her wedding gown and rushed down the aisle with Connor in tow.
Daisy slowed for less than a second when she reached Mac and then threw her arms around his neck. Juno thought she saw him stiffen as he accepted Daisy’s hug, his hand settling on Daisy’s back for only a moment. When Daisy finally let Mac go, the brothers shook hands and then Connor gripped Mac’s shoulder. Juno couldn’t hear a word they were saying above the curious and excited conversations around her, but she couldn’t help noticing Brody’s rigid posture—so different from his relaxed stance at the airport.
Colour flushed across Juno’s sternum as Daisy grasped Mac’s hand and led him down the aisle. Tucking her bottom lip under her teeth, she stifled the groan as she watched him approach. She must not let him intimidate her. She wasn’t the naÏve, inexperienced tomboy he’d kissed and made fun of two weeks ago. She was stronger now and much more sophisticated. Or, at least, she looked as if she were.
‘You’ll never guess who turned up after all,’ Daisy teased as they drew level. ‘Juno, I believe you’ve already met Connor’s brother, Mac.’
He’d cut his hair. The thick black locks, now militarily short, only showed the slightest tendency to curl around his ears. The new hairstyle, together with his clean-shaven jaw and the perfectly tailored dove-grey linen suit and pristine white shirt, should have made him look a lot less dangerous. They didn’t.
She lifted her chin. ‘Hello again, Mr Brody,’ she said succinctly, despite the butterflies now having a field day in her tummy.
‘Juno, is it?’ His gaze flicked down and her nipples peaked painfully against her push-up bra. ‘The name of a goddess,’ he murmured, the penetrating blue of his eyes as disturbing as she remembered. ‘It suits.’
