Girl Least Likely to Marry. Amy Andrews

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      ONE

      A decade on…

      Cassiopeia watched Tuck… whatever his last name was…of quarterback fame swagger in the general direction of their table with his long, loose-limbed gait. Somehow his big, blond athleticism seemed to dominate the vast expanse of the open tent, with its delicate swathes of royal blue draped across the ceilings and trailing gently to the deck. But then she had a feeling he’d probably dominate any setting.

      He made slow progress. Men stopped him to slap him on the back and shake his hand. Women stopped him to bat their eyelashes and put their hands on him. He took both in his stride, shrugging off their adoration with a wide, easy Shucks, I ain’t nuthin’ grin. The man was so laid-back Cassie was surprised he managed to stay vertical.

      Very different from the man she’d watched only yesterday playing a very physical game of one-on-one basketball with Reese’s ex-Marine ex-husband Mason.

      Reese had left the party that had originally been intended to be her wedding to Dylan to go after Mason, but her instructions to the remaining members of the Awesome Foursome had been clear—make sure no one gets into a fight.

      Reese had deliberately sat Tuck, the jilted groom’s best man, next to her—away from Gina—to prevent such a calamity.

      With Tuck firmly on Team Dylan and Gina, whose favourite pastime was baiting people, on Team Reese, Cassie could already tell it was going to be a long night.

      ‘He sure is pretty,’ Gina murmured with relish as she tracked his progress.

      A very long night.

      Cassie didn’t really see the attraction. But then she’d never been a slave to her hormones. She just wasn’t programmed that way.

      Sure, Tuck Whats-his-name had all the features that the female of the species looked for in a mate. He was tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped. She couldn’t see the delineation of the muscles in his chest tonight, although they were obviously there beneath his charcoal suit. She knew from his shirtless one-on-one yesterday that they were plentiful and very well developed.

      And, in the animal world, muscles equalled strength.

      Another biological tick in his favour.

      There was also the symmetry of his face. Square jaw, prominent cheekbones, nose, chin and forehead all proportional. Eyes evenly spaced. Lips perfectly aligned. Facial symmetry was one of the big markers of physical attraction and worthiness for mating, and Tuck had it in spades.

      But Cassie still didn’t get it.

      ‘I have to go to the bathroom,’ she said, turning to Gina. ‘Try not to get into a fight with him while I’m gone. Remember, Reese is counting on us.’

      ‘I’ll be on my best behaviour,’ Gina assured her.

      If Cassie had been better at picking up sarcasm she wouldn’t have been assured one iota, but she nodded, satisfied.

      ‘Here—reapply,’ Gina said, reaching into her clutch purse and pulling out the deep mulberry lipstick she’d slathered on Cassie’s mouth earlier.

      Cassie frowned. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because.’ Gina sighed. ‘That’s the price of wearing lippy.’ She waggled the item at her friend, who was looking at it as if it were a foreign object she’d never seen before. ‘Beauty is pain.’

      Cassie smiled at the old catchphrase. Beauty is pain. She’d learned many things about being a woman under Gina’s tutelage. Gina could wear a pair of killer stilettos out clubbing all night without a single wince. Cassie had pretty much forgotten everything in the intervening decade, but she’d never forgotten how Gina had taken her under her wing—as if she were an Antipodean Eliza Doolittle.

      Of course Cassie had failed ‘Female 101’ resoundingly, but Gina had been sweet and patient and there was just something about her vibrant personality that drew people. Cassie and Gina had stayed in contact despite the wedge that had been driven between the Awesome Foursome after Gina had thrown her one-night stand with Carter in Marnie’s face that fateful last night together ten years ago.

      And now, a decade down the track, Gina was still looking out for her in the fashion stakes. Gina had taken one look at the shapeless maxi-dress Cassie had been going to wear and declared it an unnatural disaster. Before Cassie had known it she was swathed in soft grape fabric with no sleeves, a plunging crossover neckline, a ruched form-fitting waist and an A-line skirt, the hem of which fluttered just below her knees.

      Her straight brown hair had been freed from its regulation floral scrunchie and loosely curled. Sparkly, strappy kitten heels had been supplied. A subtle hand had seen to eyeshadow and mascara. Lipstick had been brandished with gusto.

      ‘Reapply,’ Gina repeated.

      Bowing to a greater knowledge, Cassie took the lipstick as instructed and departed.

      Tuck pulled up at the table he’d been allocated a minute later. His knee ached but he ignored it in deference to the sultry sex goddess with raven hair. She was dressed in something red and clingy, sitting there looking up at him with a smile on her full mouth. A connoisseur of women from way back, he liked what he saw.

      He shot her one of his killer smiles. He knew they were killer because an article about him in Cosmo had spent an entire paragraph talking about the sheer wickedness of his smile.

      ‘Well this here may just be my lucky night,’ he drawled, deliberately dragging out his vowels, plying her with all his Southern charm. His accent had been blunted over the years, with travel and living far from his Texan roots, but he could still pull it out when required.

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