Wedding Party Collection: Once A Bridesmaid...: Here Comes the Bridesmaid / Falling for the Bridesmaid. GINA WILKINS

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СКАЧАТЬ over. ‘I get that. You’re the dominant one, you’re the one doling out the goods, and you don’t need to see anyone.’

      The perceptiveness startled him.

      ‘So no emotional combustions! It’s a good way to be,’ she went on. ‘In fact my approach to relationships is based on achieving a similar core of aloofness, of control. Of mastery over my emotions.’

      He was a little awed. ‘Your approach to relationships?’

      ‘Yes. Separating sex from love, for example—you know, like that ménage à trois with me, Jon, and Moon. You have to agree that it makes life easier.’

      ‘Easier, maybe. Not better.’

      ‘Of course it’s easiest to leave the love out altogether. That’s what I do now.’

      ‘What? Why?’

      She tapped her chest lightly, over her heart. ‘No room in here.’

      ‘You’re not that type of person.’

      ‘Well, I do have to work hard at it,’ she conceded.

      ‘What? Why?’ God, he was repeating himself!

      ‘Because my natural inclination is to care too much about people. I have to take precautions to guard against that.’

      ‘What? Why?’ Nope—he was not doing another repeat! ‘I mean, what are you scared of?’

      ‘Pain,’ she said simply. ‘Because it hurts. To care deeply. It hurts.’

      Leo wanted to tell her the whole argument was ridiculous, but the words wouldn’t come. What did he know? He was living proof that sex was usually loveless, no matter how much you wished otherwise.

      At least Sunshine could actually touch a person without having a panic attack, so she was way ahead of him. For sure Gary and Ben wouldn’t have let Sunshine have those mini-meltdowns and sat there like blockheads, handing her restaurant napkins. How was he supposed to find what Caleb had when he couldn’t put his arms around a tearful woman? Did he even deserve to, stunted as he was?

      ‘But we were talking about embalming,’ Sunshine said, and she was twinkling again. ‘Which is much more interesting. A very technical and responsible job. And it does make you think, doesn’t it?’

      Leo, reeling from the various changes in conversation he’d been subjected to for the past few minutes—shoes, pumpkins, napkins, sex, love, embalming, napkins—could only repeat stupidly, ‘Think...?’

      ‘Well, cremation or burial? It’s something we all need to plan for. If you’re interested—as you should be, if you ride a motorbike—I’m sure Ben would be happy to—’

      ‘Er, no—that’s fine, thanks.’ Leo got to his feet with alacrity. ‘I’ll send over that drink.’

      * * *

      Halfway through the night, Leo poked his head out of the kitchen. Ostensibly to gauge how the place was humming along, but really—he was honest enough to admit it—to check out Sunshine’s date.

      And Ben the embalmer was handsome enough to give Alexander Skarsgard a run for his money. Like a freaking Viking!

      They’d ordered the roast leg of lamb—a sharing dish that came with crispy roast potatoes, crusty bread rolls and assorted side dishes and condiments. Enough food to feed the entire cast of The Hobbit, including the trolls.

      Twice more Leo peered out at them. Both times Ben was laughing and Sunshine was about to shove a laden fork in her mouth. Leo was starting to think Sunshine could single-handedly have eating classified as a championship sport.

      Since he thought dining with a woman who actually ate would make a nice change, he didn’t know why the sight of Sunshine chomping up a storm with Ben was so annoying.

      But it was. Very, very annoying.

      Another laugh floated through the restaurant and into his straining ears.

      Right! He ripped off his apron. He was going to find out what the hell was so funny.

      He washed his hands, changed into a clean chef’s jacket and headed out.

      Sunshine looked up, startled. ‘Leo! This is a surprise.’

      She quickly performed introductions as one of the waiting staff rushed to find a spare chair for Leo, who was examining the almost demolished lamb leg.

      Leo raised his eyebrows. ‘Didn’t like it, huh?’ he said, settling into the quickly produced chair.

      Sunshine groaned. ‘Not funny. I’ll have to start dieting tomorrow.’

      ‘That will be a one-day wonder,’ Ben said, and winked at Sunshine.

      Winked! Who the hell winked at people?

      Sunshine laughed. ‘Or you could kiss me instead, Ben, because—interestingly—kissing burns six and half calories per minute. As long as it’s passionate.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I guess passion supersizes the metabolic effect.’

      Ben, in the process of sipping his wine, choked. ‘Where do you get all these facts?’

      ‘The internet.’

      Ben grinned. ‘Better brush up on your arithmetic, Sunny, because if I kiss you for, say, fifteen minutes—and any longer is just asking for chapped lips—it’s going to net you a hundred calories max. Basically, we’ll burn off two thirds of a bread roll.’

      ‘Are you talking yourself out of a kiss?’ Sunshine asked.

      She was doing the eyelash-bat thing, and Leo decided it made her look like a vacuous twit. He only just stopped himself from telling her so.

      Ben smiled at Sunshine. A very intimate smile, by Leo’s reckoning. ‘You know I’m up for it,’ he said. ‘But we’re going to have to make it a marathon and buy a truckload of lip balm if you keep that up.’ He nodded at her fingers, which were hovering over the food.

      Sunshine snatched up a small piece of crispy potato and popped it into her mouth. ‘It’s a vegetable,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t count.’

      ‘Oh, that’s a vegetable!’ Ben laughed. ‘And you’re a nut, Sunshine.’

      Sunshine smiled serenely. ‘If that’s the analogy we’re going with, you’re a piece of meat.’

      Ben gave her a faux mournful look. ‘Oh, I know I’m just a piece of meat to you. We all are.’

      A phone trilled.

      ‘Mine,’ Ben said, reaching into his shirt pocket. He checked the caller ID. ‘Sorry, I have to take this.’

      ‘All?’ Leo asked as Ben left the table.

      Sunshine laughed. ‘Just a “poor me” thing with my exes. They get a bit club-like.’

      ‘What? СКАЧАТЬ