The Best Man's Baby. Darcy Maguire

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      CHAPTER TWO

      SKYE thought of the door, of running, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away, let alone the rest of her.

      His hair was still light, now a short-back-and-sides cut, but with the hair on top standing on end rather than combed back. His jaw was angular—she used to trail kisses down it, and his brow was creased—she wanted to step forward and smooth it with her fingertips like she’d done once, a long time ago, but she was frozen to the spot.

      His deep blue eyes widened. ‘Skye?’

      ‘Nick,’ she gasped.

      ‘I am trying to pin here,’ said Charlie from below.

      ‘You look—’ his gaze ran over her, over her simple grey skirt, white blouse and jacket ‘—wonderful.’

      ‘You too.’ She tore her attention from his brilliant blue eyes, looking directly at his chest, trying not to think about the man, in the flesh, finally being in front of her.

      She opened her mouth but the words wouldn’t come. What could she tell him anyway? Time had passed. It was way too late.

      And he was getting married? She covered her mouth, trying to smother the wave of nausea racking her body. No. He couldn’t be. Not after all she’d gone through, all the pain, the doubts and, ultimately, her sacrifice.

      ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked casually.

      His deep voice washed over her like warm spring wind. ‘I work here.’ She swallowed, gripping the clipboard more tightly. ‘I’m co-ordinating your wedding.’

      ‘My wedding?’ He lifted his eyebrows and laughed.

      The sound rattled through her like a freight train. She glanced at the folder in front of her, the words a blur. Had she said something funny?

      She shook her head. She was an idiot! Wouldn’t she have noticed his name earlier if it were his wedding? ‘You’re not the groom,’ she said tentatively, her mind still trying to grapple with his presence.

      ‘Not a chance,’ he said, his voice deep and smooth.

      Skye let out the breath she was holding, feeling her knees shake under her weight. She took a tentative step, grabbing the back of the nearest chair. She looked at him. ‘Then you are?’

      ‘The best man.’

      Skye stared at him. How did he know he was the best man for her? She shifted the weight on her heels. How could he know that he was the only man who had pushed her buttons? The only man who she thought of when she went to bed at night, the man who invaded her dreams and haunted her memories.

      He crossed his arms over his formidable chest. ‘I thought you worked in your family business?’

      ‘I do.’ She bit her bottom lip. ‘I am.’

      His blue eyes probed hers. ‘You never said it was a wedding planning business.’

      Skye swallowed hard. ‘You weren’t exactly looking favourably on the whole wedding scene.’ She remembered his views on marriage and commitment intimately. If he’d known she was involved in the business he probably would have run screaming the first moment he met her.

      Nick shook his head, his brow creasing. ‘Isn’t that strange? I never noticed that you didn’t go into details about what you did.’

      ‘You were too busy to notice,’ she quipped. Her mind scrambled to make sense of meeting him again. He couldn’t know, could he? The quick and disturbing thought welled in her throat. She swallowed hard. ‘What are you doing here?’

      His mouth quirked into a smile. ‘I’m the best man, remember?’

      She remembered all right. Every nerve in her entire body remembered him, mourned him, yearned nightly for him, measured every man that came through her life against him. ‘Of course you are,’ she said vaguely.

      Nick smiled at her, his eyes glinting with purpose.

      She shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. She’d rehearsed it a million times. It wasn’t meant to be here, like this. In a restaurant, in a club, or in a hotel foyer on some exotic trip she’d never taken, not here—she wasn’t ready.

      Skye dragged in a deep breath, trying to right her world again. ‘I never expected you to be involved in all this—’ she looked around at the suited men, at Nick and how well he filled out the tuxedo he wore ‘—how did you used to put it—wedding stuff?’