Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

B ritt's hand shook as she waved the mascara wand over her lashes and blinked several times, grateful she'd chosen the waterproof kind.

She'd already been near tears twice, first when she'd opened the door to a gorgeous bouquet of frangipanis, and a few moments later when she'd carefully hung her wedding dress encased in plastic on the back of the door.

Nick had sent the flowers. His note had been brief.

For my bride, Nick x

While the flowers were breathtaking, that one little x had her clutching them and burying her nose in their heady fragrance, her eyes filling to the brim.

She wanted his kisses, wanted him, and no matter how many times she told herself this wedding was a necessity to be free of her past, she knew when she walked up the aisle shortly she'd want him more than ever.

As for her dress, she'd wanted to buy something understated, practical, a dress she could wear again. Why spend money on a real dress when this marriage would be fake?

That was before she laid eyes on the strapless, sweetheart gown in ruched ivory silk chiffon, and her neglected romantic soul demanded she buy it. So she had, because she touched the dress she imagined magic.

A magical marriage filled with light and laughter and love.

A magical mirage of a handsome groom with stars in his eyes and a bride who believed in the happily ever after she'd always dreamed about.

A magical mystery that despite their motivations for this marriage they were embarking on something truly wonderful today.

Taking one last look in the mirror, satisfied she hadn't streaked her makeup in a fit of misplaced sentimentality, she shook her head. Magic wasn't real and she was foolish to dream of anything other than what this marriage was: a business arrangement.

She slipped off her robe and padded across the room to the wardrobe, her fingers trembling as she slid the zip open on the dress's carrier bag. Every metallic slide, every crinkle of the thick plastic, every rustle of silk chiffon, brought her closer to her wedding and her stomach twisted as she reverently lifted the dress out.

Emotion clogged her throat and she swallowed several times as the soft flowing skirt cascaded to the floor in a silken ripple. The dress was a dream and her breath whooshed out as she steeled her nerve and slowly, carefully, stepped into it, wishing she could channel some magic.

Closing her eyes, she tugged at the bodice, smoothed the skirt, ignoring the sick churning of nerves gone awry as the reality of marrying Nick hit home, hard.

Almost faint from anxiety, she took a deep breath, another, before opening her eyes…and gasping.

She looked like a bride.

But it wasn't the divine dress or the fancy hairdo or the immaculate makeup that made all of this real.

The starry-eyed expression in her frightened gaze said it all.

In spite of every sensible thing she kept telling herself, she looked like a bride on the brink of marrying the man of her dreams.