The man had no shame. He feigned support on one hand while back-stabbing a friend with the other. Niki chewed on her lower lip. Not that she could really consider Jack and Greg to be friends.
The feud between the two men seemed to have gone on forever, its roots stretching back into childhood. For some reason, they brought out the worst in each other. They were two grown, intelligent men who acted like children whenever the other was near.
A new wave of anger washed over her. Because of this silly feud, Jack had ruined what should have been the happiest day of her life. He’d objected to her choice of husband solely on the basis of an adolescent rivalry.
Did he stop and consider her feelings? Her wants? No. He’d expected her to drop all of her wedding plans, simply because he didn’t like the groom.
He’d treated her like a child.
He’d wounded her pride…and her heart.
He’d also opened her eyes to some hard, but long overdue truths. The schoolgirl crush she’d had on Jack was a sweet but impossible dream. She understood that now. But the hardest truth, the one that held the most sting, was that they’d seemed to have outgrown their childhood friendship. A friendship she thought they’d never lose.
“Niki?”
Niki blinked, forcing her attention back to Cassie. “Hmm?”
“Are you all right?” Worry shadowed the blonde’s face. “You were a million miles away.”
Niki grimaced. “I swear, Cassie. If one more thing goes wrong tonight, I’m going to scream.”
Cassie’s face relaxed around a smile. Mischief danced in her blue eyes. “Believe me. If I were marrying Greg Lawton, I’d be screaming, also.”
“Not you, too,” Niki moaned.
“Me too, what?”
Niki shook her head. “Cassie, you’re my maid of honor. You’re supposed to support me during my engagement.”
“I am supporting you. I just can’t help it if I think you’re crazy.”
“Crazy?” The single word rang out loud and clear. Remembering her guests, she lowered her voice. “What do you mean crazy?”
Cassie struggled with a sober expression. “I mean…jeez, Niki, Greg Lawton of all people.”
Niki felt her temper kick in. “What’s the matter with Greg?” she demanded, struggling for control.
“Nothing, really.” Cassie bit her lip to hide a smile. “It’s just…being around Greg is like watching a rerun of Dr. Kildare. He’s so cool, so collected—so perfect. Whenever I see him, I want to run up to him and muss his hair or something.”
Niki sighed. Her maid of honor, it appeared, appreciated Greg almost as much asJack did. She attributed the animosity between Cassie and Greg to their being opposites.
Perfection wasn’t something she could pin on her friend. At twenty-four, Cassie was still trying to find herself. Smart and savvy, she just couldn’t seem to settle down to any one man or occupation. Greg, on the other hand, was born responsible. He simply didn’t understand Cassie’s lack of commitment.
Cassie shrugged. “Look, I’m sorry, Niki. I’m not the one who’s marrying Greg—thank God. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that counts.” She glanced at Niki sharply. “You are madly in love with him, aren’t you?”
The question took her aback. Of course, she loved Greg. She wouldn’t be marrying him if she didn’t. But madly in love? The term conjured up emotions that were unpredictable, out of control. Her feelings for Greg were more of a steady nature.
“What a silly question,” Niki said, laughing to hide her uncertainty. She ignored her friend’s curious gaze. “I think it’s time I talked to the caterer.”
Cassie draped an arm around Niki’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll join you. Thanks to my mother and her socializing ways, if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to throw a good party. I’ll show you how to handle a temperamental caterer.”
As they fought their way through the crowded living room, Niki felt the weight of Jack’s gaze. She resisted the urge to glance back at him. No need to flirt with danger, she told herself. She was in no mood for another confrontation.
Guests were everywhere. They stood huddled in groups, scattered about the Oriental rug in tight knots of human congestion. Her mother’s card party had taken up a boisterous residence in the middle of the room. They were comfortably settled on the couch and wing back chairs. She caught her mother’s eye and conveyed a silent message of Help! Relief poured through her as she watched her mother rise to her feet to follow.
The party spilled out into the entranceway. A group of Greg and Jack’s classmates from high school were balancing plates of food on their knees and sipping champagne as they sat on the foyer’s gracefully curved staircase. Niki flashed them a smile and a wave as she and Cassie strode down the hall and ducked into the kitchen.
Compared to the blare of the party, the bustling noises of the catering staff seemed like heaven. Cassie took a seat on a bar stool at the kitchen’s center island. Niki leaned against the door and gave herself a moment to calm her frazzled nerves.
Her moment of peace, however, was short-lived.
“Miss Adams?”
The caterer appeared before her. He was big man with dark hair and the build of a former football player going slowly to seed. He wore a look of concern. “You okay, Miss Adams?”
She forced a smile. “I’m fine. Were you looking for me?”
His thick brows knitted into a frown. “There’s too much humidity tonight. What with the rain and the heat from the crowd, the miniature cheese soufflés are falling flat as soon as they hit the air.”
Niki sighed. “There’s so much food out there already—”
She didn’t have a chance to finish. The kitchen door swung open, whacking Niki on her backside. Her mother had arrived. Worry shadowed her green eyes. She looked as frazzled as Niki felt.
“Niki, what in the world has happened to Greg?” she demanded.
Cassie chuckled from her perch at the island.
The caterer didn’t appreciate the interruption. “Miss Adams, about the cheese souffles—”
Her mother glanced sharply at the caterer. “Soufflés? Who cares about the souffles? There’s enough food out there to feed an army. I’m worried about the champagne.”
“The champagne?” Niki and Cassie chorused.
Her mother thumbed their attention toward the party. “The waiters are serving glasses of champagne as though they were sparkling water. At twenty bucks a pop, let’s slow down the flow, okay?”
“But Mrs. Adams, how can I…”
The voices faded as the dizziness grew. Too many voices. Too many demands. Niki felt as though she were on a merry-go-round, only the sound was distorted and the action slowed. She rubbed her throbbing temples. The room felt uncomfortably warm. Just as she felt as though she might scream or faint, the door opened, once again whacking her on the backside.
This