Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [50]
“He appears to be busy,” Brenna said calmly, her eyes searching out Donovan's red head in a far corner of the room, as he bent to listen attentively to a distinguished gray-haired man.
“Judge Simon Arthington, State Supreme Court Judge,” Jake said thoughtfully. “And before that, I saw him with Senator Atkins. Unusual company to cultivate on one's wedding day, wouldn't you say?”
“Perhaps he's just being a good host,” Brenna said evasively. “They are friends of his, aren't they?”
“Oh, they're friends of his,” Jake said cynically. “Michael is a very generous contributor to their campaign funds. They're very fond of him.” He looked around the room distastefully. “I see several other ‘friends' of Michael's here.” He shrugged, and turned to smile charmingly at her. “Have I told you how lovely you are tonight? You're something out of Tolstoy.”
She smiled back at him, wrinkling her nose saucily. “I should be. I was too busy slaving for you to go shopping, so Michael had wardrobe run me up this little number. I have an idea it was originally meant for a remake of War and Peace.”
All joking aside, she really loved the gown. It was an exquisitely simple garment in lemon yellow, embroidered with white daisies. The empire cut and low round neck merely hinted gracefully at the smallness of her waist and hips, but boldly accented the swell of her breasts. She wore no jewelry and only a garland of daisies on her head. Her hair had been brushed to a sensuous silken sheen and allowed to fall almost to her waist, to complement the romantic aura of the gown.
“Oh, yes, Michael was in a great hurry for this wedding, wasn't he?” Jake asked casually. “But not too hurried to arrange this elaborate reception for you, Brenna. I suppose you're very fond of parties. Most women are.”
Brenna made a face. “I hate them,” she said frankly. “This kind, at least. I enjoyed the one on the set yesterday, to celebrate the end of the picture. Michael made all the arrangements for the wedding and reception.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Jake said softly, black eyes gleaming. “I happen to know that Michael is bored to death at parties. He never attends one unless it's absolutely necessary for business reasons. Then, when he's finished, he's usually found in a corner, munching dip and glowering bad-temperedly. Yet on the most private and personal event of his life, he throws an elaborate party, invites people he couldn't care less about, except to use. And he proceeds to ignore his beautiful bride, who he's obviously crazy about, and spends his time cultivating judges and senators!” Jake's expression was as alert and watchful as a pouncing cat as he asked mildly, “You wouldn't know anything about all this, would you, Brenna?”
Brenna looked down at her champagne. “Why should I know anything?” she asked quietly. “Michael always does what he wants to do.”
Jake's eyebrows rose cynically. “And if you do, you're not about to satisfy my curiosity,” he said knowingly.
Brenna looked up, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Exactly,” she said succinctly.
He sighed. “I was afraid of that,” he said. “I couldn't get anything out of Michael, either.”
“Why should you bother, Jake?” Brenna asked curiously. “Michael knows what he's doing.”
“None better,” Jake agreed lightly. “I suppose I'm feeling a touch of unaccustomed responsibility. I've never been a best man before.”
“You were very convincing,” Brenna assured him solemnly. “You and Nora practically stole the show. It was nice of Nora to be my maid of honor, wasn't it?”
“She likes you,” Jake said simply. “The whole crew likes you. You're a very popular person, Brenna Sloan. I even like you.”
Brenna sketched a mocking curtsy, her brown eyes dancing at such a graceless compliment from a man who was reputed to have one of the smoothest lines in the world. “I am duly honored,” she said demurely.
“You should be,” he said dryly. “I don't think I've ever told a woman I liked