Best Man With Benefits (McCade Brothers 3)

He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Oh. So much for vibrating with need. The tingling sensation had been his phone signaling an incoming message. Her breath leaked out her nose and she sagged with relief…or disappointment. It was a close call. A half-hysterical fit of giggles threatened until she noticed him wince at the screen.

“Something wrong?”

He sighed, and for the first time ever, she sensed weariness behind his Mr. Perfect facade. “Probably. Defy Gravity is in negotiations to acquire a surf company. I thought we had every issue tied down before I left, but things are starting to unravel, and now my CFO is blowing up my phone every hour with new problems, and my board is asking for an update, and”—he tossed his phone on the table—“I might as well have stayed in Boulder if I was going to spend the whole damn week a slave to this deal.”

“Sucks to be in charge, huh?”

The comment earned her a weak grin. “Sometimes it feels like the company owns me. Growing the business used to be fun, before the money guys and the analysts and the lawyers got involved. Fun or not”—he heaved out a breath—“duty calls. I hate to ask, but will you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.” He picked up his phone and card key before pinning her with a serious look. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Amazingly, she didn’t have an urge to flee. She felt radiant from basking in his attention all evening, and she didn’t want to lose the glow. But as she watched him weave his way through the crowded restaurant toward the lounge, she noticed female heads turn like flowers to the sun as he passed, including a couple of the other bridesmaids. Some of the warm feeling dissipated.

Get real, Sophie. Those girls are beautiful, successful, and waaaay better suited to Logan. She could easily picture organized Julie, with her blond hair and cover-girl smile, on his arm at a fund-raiser, or the alluring, flame-haired Christine, hosting a dinner party for one of his important business contacts, or sultry, sassy Regan doing…whatever she darn well pleased, and leaving him begging for more.

Logan lived a “look at me” kind of life, whether it was “look at me climb this mountain,” or “look at me take my company from niche-market start-up to high-growth upstart in less than five years.” She, on the other hand, strove to get through her days without drawing a second glance, and no matter how much she pushed herself to change, the fundamental aspects of her nature would always remain. So no, they’d never work in the long-term, but why not for one night of excitement and passion?

The bubbles in her champagne whispered, “Want in on that bridesmaid pact after all?” Why yes, she did, even if she’d only admit as much to the champagne. She gulped the rest of her drink, for courage, and slid out of the booth with the notion of intercepting Logan before he returned to the table. From there, her plans got as fuzzy as her head. Seduction wasn’t her strong suit.

A quick scan of the room told her she hadn’t attracted any attention, except…shoot, Kady looked over just then and their eyes met. Her nerves jittered. Silly, because the Drescos, including her soon-to-be sister-in-law, had never been anything but kind. They were the sort of tight-knit family who pulled out all the stops for stuff like Thanksgiving and Christmas, while her parents had often played an uncivil game of “not it” when it came to taking her and Colt for the holidays. Tyler and Colt were close friends, and she suspected the Drescos sometimes got wind of the fact that Colt was about to be ping-ponged for the holidays.

On those occasions, they’d invited him to join them, and were kind enough to extend their hospitality to her. Though three years older, and in a whole different universe when it came to looks and popularity, Kady had always taken the trouble to make her feel welcome. Even so, the socially awkward nerdy girl lurking inside Sophie still got a little intimidated at the prospect of interacting with her. But interact she would, because Kady disengaged from the group of people she’d been chatting with and headed for Sophie. Next thing she knew she was wrapped in a quick hug.

“There you are! I wondered if you’d stood us up tonight.”

“Oh. Sorry. I waved to Colt when I arrived, but I skipped circulating because…” She glanced down at her outfit.

Kady’s brow wrinkled as she took in the oversize button-down shirt and jeans. “You forgot to pack a cocktail dress?”

“Not exactly. I packed an appropriate outfit, but earlier today I sent my dresses to the hotel laundry to get the wrinkles steamed out and they seem to have”—she shrugged—“misplaced them.”

“Oh, that sucks. If they don’t find them, make sure they reimburse you for… Wait a minute…” Kady grasped her forearm. “Did you give them your bridesmaid’s dress?”

Whoops. She shouldn’t have brought this up. Not cool to distract the bride with a detail like this in the middle of a party. “I did, but don’t worry. The manager promises they’re doing everything they can to find the dresses. If they don’t, no worries, I’ll just attend the wedding as a guest rather than a bridesmaid—”

“No. That’s not an option.” The hand on her forearm tightened. “You’re Colt’s sister. My sister-in-law. We want you up there with us. Have you told Julie? Has she spoken to the manager? I need this guy to understand they absolutely, positively have to find that dress.” Kady released her arm and looked toward the exit. “In fact, I should tell him myself. Let’s go.”

Smooth, Sophie. Drag the bride away from the welcome dinner. She dug in her heels. “Wait. There’s no need to hunt down the hotel manager. Logan spoke to him. Management assured us they’d find my dresses.”

That seemed to calm Kady down. “Logan spoke to him?”

“Yes.” She nodded for emphasis and almost lost her balance.

“Okay. Good. That’s good.” She took a slow breath. “I’ll still tell Julie, just so she can keep an eye on this situation, too. Don’t worry. You’re going to be standing at the front of the church in that beautiful blue dress, come hell or high water.” With that, she strode off to find the maid of honor.

Sophie swallowed the wave of nausea Kady’s declaration provoked. Determined to shake it off, she wandered to a corner of the lounge, where someone—probably Julie—had set up photo montages of Colt and Kady. Colt at two, dressed like a cowboy for Halloween. Colt, Brock, and Reed, all skinny-armed and wide-toothed, standing by the river near Dad’s house in Tennessee. The next photo coaxed a laugh out of her. Same day, three seconds later—Colt and Reed tossing Brock into the water. Hard to believe those three trouble magnets were all functioning members of society now.

Heck, in less than a week, her I’m-never-getting-married brother would be a husband, and after that, someday, possibly even a father. All the more remarkable considering their parents hadn’t been role models for domestic bliss, much less amicable divorce. They’d split shortly after Sophie had been born. She always suspected she was a “save the marriage” baby who hadn’t done the trick, but she’d take that over the ringside seat to their constant bickering that Colt had been stuck in during his formative years. He’d decided early on there was no such thing as everlasting love—at least not for a Brooks—and vowed never to chase the delusion of happily ever after.

For a long time she’d worried he’d never change his mind and open himself to the idea of love, marriage, and family. But somehow, miraculously, Kady had changed all that. For her, he’d managed to push the fear and cynicism out of his heart and take a chance on happiness. And he’d found it. The thought had Sophie blinking back tears until another photo caught her eye. She nearly choked on her own tongue.

Oh, good God. It was a picture of Colt and her, at Colt’s college graduation. There he stood, tall and proud in his cap and gown. There she stood, short and dumpy, wearing one of the bulky sweatshirts that had been her trademark since eighth grade, when nature had suddenly “blessed” her with the biggest boobs anybody in her middle school had ever seen. Shiny red cheeks, a constellation of zits on her forehead, and a botched home perm completed the catastrophe. She’d hoped the curls would make her look like Keri Russell. Her Mom had taken one look and pronounced her a dead ringer for “the frizzy-haired girl from Harry Potter.” Sadly, Mom was always right about that kind of stuff.

She forced her attention away from the horror and her gaze landed on a picture of Colt and Logan at Yosemite. She registered Bridalveil Fall in the background despite never taking her eyes off Logan. Twenty-something, shirtless Logan. Twenty-something, sweaty, shirtless Logan, smiling into the camera and giving off the same glow she’d basked in all evening and longed to bask in all night—if she could somehow talk him into it.