One
“You know I love you, right?” Kayla Prince looked at the person sitting opposite her at the Something Hot coffee shop in downtown Cheyenne, Wyoming.
“I know.”
“And you know I would do anything for you.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I beg you,” Kayla continued pitifully, “please, please, please don’t make me walk down the aisle at your wedding with that man.”
Kayla’s best friend, Angelica Lassiter, laughed and shook her blond hair back from her face. “Such drama.”
“Come on, Angie,” Kayla said, leaning back on the bench seat. “Be different. Be a trendsetter. Have the best man walk down the aisle with the flower girl.”
“Right, because that would look great.”
Desperation fueled Kayla’s next argument. “Then let me be the flower girl. Find a new maid of honor. I won’t be hurt.” She crossed her fingers over her heart. “Honestly.”
“There’s no getting out of this. You’re the maid of honor, Kayla. You’re my best friend.”
“We could have a fight,” she offered hopefully. “A big one. And make up after the wedding.”
“We never fight,” Angelica pointed out.
No, of course they didn’t, Kayla told herself miserably. Who could fight with Angie? She was beautiful and kind and funny and smart. And she was about to marry a man whose best friend just happened to be the one man who irritated Kayla beyond belief.
“All of this to avoid Matt?”
Scowling down at her coffee, Kayla tried to ignore the fact that she was being a gigantic coward—which she never was ordinarily. Since she was a kid, raised by a single mom to be wildly independent, Kayla had always believed in going after what she wanted. She had put herself through college in L.A., where she and Angelica had been roommates and eventually the best of friends. Kayla had studied art and loved it, but along the way had finally admitted that she was never going to be the great artist she dreamed of being. But she knew greatness when she saw it, and so she worked in a couple of small galleries, learning and gathering experience. If she couldn’t be an artist, she decided that she could at least be surrounded by art.
On school breaks and holidays, Kayla had visited Angie’s hometown of Cheyenne several times and had fallen in love with the city and the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. So, when she was offered a dream job at the Cheyenne Art Gallery, she’d left L.A. behind and grabbed at her chance. At the gallery, she was surrounded by art—sculptures, paintings, etchings. She was a part of the creative world and in a position to help promote the talented artists who entrusted her with their work.
Thanks to her relationship with Angie, she was also a private art advisor to the Lassiter collection. Cheyenne had become home over the past few years. She had a small cottage in town, a car that was paid for and a healthy social life that had even included a few interesting men. Until she had met Matt Hollis. Of course, after meeting Matt, none of those men had meant a damn thing.
“Matt’s been at Lassiter Media offices in California for nine months,” Angelica said. “Hasn’t that been long enough to get over whatever it is you’re mad at him about?”
Not even close.
A buzzing mixture of embarrassment, lust and pure fury sizzled inside Kayla as memories raced through her mind in a blur of color. Last year, when Angelica and Evan had become engaged, they’d decided that their friends needed to be friends, too. So to get the ball rolling, Angie had arranged a double date for the four of them.
Nightmare.
Matt Hollis was an arrogant know-it-all who had jumped all over Kayla’s last nerve by the end of that illustrious evening. He was gorgeous and smart and pretty much used to having women fall at his feet in a gooey puddle of hormonal need. When Kayla had managed to withstand the urge to hurl herself at his manly chest, Matt had taken that as a direct challenge.
For the next two months, every time they were together, Matt had found a way to touch her, be close to her. Even when they were arguing, which was most of the time, there was a sexual tension humming between them that wound tighter and tighter. Naturally, inevitably, that tension exploded one night after the four of them had gone dancing. By the time Evan and Angie had left to go home, Matt and Kayla had been ready to tear each other’s hair out.
Of course, she remembered, they’d ended up tearing each other’s clothes off instead, but Angie didn’t need to know that.
Just like she didn’t need to know that that one explosive night with Matt Hollis was still haunting Kayla’s dreams.
As was the fact that a few days later, he had left for the California offices of Lassiter Media where he had stayed for the past nine months. Now he was back for the wedding and to smooth out some local Lassiter Media business and Kayla really didn’t want to see him again. Well, she did, but she didn’t.
It was all very complex.
But she couldn’t very well say any of that to Angie. “He’s just not my favorite person, okay?”
“I’m getting that. But the wedding’s two weeks away now so can you just pretend you don’t hate his guts for now?” Angie lifted her coffee cup in a salute. “Once Evan and I are off on our honeymoon, Matt will go back to the L.A. office and you two can return to avoiding each other, okay?”
“I didn’t say I hate his guts,” Kayla muttered. This would be so much easier if she did hate him.
Instead, like a complete crazy person, she still wanted him. In spite of everything—including the fact that after their one unbelievable night together there had been...nothing. He hadn’t called. Probably hadn’t given her a second thought. Oh, she had known that he would be moving to California, but he hadn’t even bothered to say thanks for the good time. And now he was back. However briefly. For the sake of her pride, she was going to have to pretend that nothing had happened between them.
Oh, the next couple of weeks were going to be so much fun!
“Enough about Matt,” Kayla said abruptly, not wanting to give him any more of her time. “What’s going on with you and Evan?”
Angie shrugged. “Wedding stuff. You know. Counting down to the big day, so we’re both really busy.” She checked the slim, gold watch on her wrist, took a quick, last sip of coffee and set the cup down. “Evan’s great. We’re great. Look, I’m sorry, sweetie, but I have to run. I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes and if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”