For someone loaded down with wedding books and bridal pictures, you’re giving up control of some major issues. Had Mike been right? Was she too compliant? She shook her head. No! Peter’s reasons for wanting the more obvious rings had to do with his status and need to impress his colleagues. She understood. Mike didn’t.
Besides, what did the world traveler, a man incapable of sticking around longer than the next assignment know about commitment anyway?
But she and Peter did have conflicting desires. That much was true. She wanted the chance to convince Peter that commitment meant more to her than flashy rings and making a statement. That sentiment counted more than points scored with his colleagues.
As he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the store, Carly was determined to do just that.
* * *
“So did you two compromise on wedding bands today?” Mike took a sip of his Scotch and soda, ignoring Carly’s furious glare. He wondered from which parent she’d inherited those expressive eyes, then realized he’d find out soon enough.
“We chose the perfect rings,” his brother said, then turned toward the bar. “I’ll have the same and a glass of white wine for the lady.”
“Let me guess,” Mike said. “Two-toned platinum and gold by chance?”
“Actually...” Peter began.
“I didn’t like them as much once I saw them a second time. Peter picked out a pair that suited us much better,” Carly said, a forced smile on her lips.
Sure he did, sweetheart. More likely her good nature had gotten lost in his brother’s well-meaning but overwhelming need to impress others. “Well, good. Because I’d hate to see a bride getting married with a wedding band she didn’t love. One she’d have to wear the rest of her life. That she’d compromised on...
“We get the picture,” she said through clenched teeth. “If you’ll both excuse me, I see some friends I’d like to say hello to.” She gave Peter a brief kiss on the cheek. A chaste kiss more suited to a friend of the family than her fiancé. What was it with these two? Mike wondered, and not for the first time.
“We’ll be here,” Peter said.
Mike merely shook his head, watching as Carly wound her way through the crowded club. Her black dress was simple yet clung to every curve. He gulped a mouthful of Scotch.
Peter rested one elbow on the bar. “Thanks for making it tonight. Wexler and Greene is a large firm, but they make it a policy to get to know their associates well.”
Mike suppressed a groan. “Marriage isn’t the same as a merger, Pete. Work probably has nothing to do with this dinner. You’re marrying the man’s daughter, for heaven’s sake.”
“What? You think by meeting you he’s checking me out?”
Mike shrugged. “Could be. Maybe he’s checking out the family, making sure Carly’s not getting stuck with the wrong sort of people.” He slapped his brother on the back. “At least you’re safe there. Two orphans with no family to speak of. I’d say the man doesn’t have much to concern himself with. How ‘bout you?”
A wry smile touched Peter’s lips. “True. So long as you’re on your best behavior, I’ll have no problem. And maybe the partnership will follow.”
“That’s what I love about you, Pete.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing gets in the way of work.”
“Of course not.”
The insult obviously went over his brother’s head, but what could be expected from a man who took most things literally and only work seriously?
“Anyhow, I doubt Roger would check me out for Carly’s sake. Those two aren’t particularly close.”
Mike grabbed a handful of peanuts from a dish on the bar. “Why not?”
“Who knows? They do the father-daughter thing, but it’s mostly for show.” Peter rubbed his forehead with one hand. Finally he lifted his shoulders. “If Roger has any interest in me at all, it must be professional.”
Mike remained silent. The dynamics at work in these relationships went way beyond anything he’d seen before. He doubted things were as simple as Peter made them out to be. But he knew for sure Pete was oblivious to anything that concerned Carly and her family unless it affected his career.
If Mike was smart he’d take his cue from his self-centered brother. He downed the rest of his drink, knowing where Carly was concerned he was anything but smart.
* * *
A small band played in the corner of the darkened dining room. Mirrors lined the walls and reflected light gave the impression of a larger room than the otherwise intimate atmosphere implied. With Carly beside him, Mike found relaxing all but impossible. The sweet scent of her perfume had him on edge, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. More than once he’d jolted himself out of a sensual daydream that had her writhing with passion beneath him.
With her father on his left side and his brother seated to her right, fantasies involving Carly Wexler were not only disrespectful but downright wrong. Peter, oblivious to everything, had involved Anne Wexler in a discussion about attorneys and their wives.
Those beautiful brown eyes had come from Anne, Mike realized, but Carly possessed an inner warmth. She seemed almost to glow from within. Dressed in an ice blue chiffon gown, her mother appeared cool and aloof. Although friendly, she lacked her daughter’s special sparkle, the elusive something that drew Mike so deeply.
“Mike,” Roger said, “Peter tells me you’ve been out of the country on assignment until recently.”
Mike nodded. “The Middle East,” he said by way of clarification. A place and a subject he was in no mood to revisit. “But I wouldn’t miss my brother’s wedding,” he said, returning to a topic he found more interesting.
“I can hardly believe it’s almost time to walk my only daughter down the aisle.”
Carly shifted, her bare leg brushing his for a split second before she realized and jerked away. Mike suppressed a grin and tried to concentrate on her father’s musings.
Beside him, she lifted a glass of water and brought it to her lips.
“It seems like only yesterday she was a teenager, and now she’s all grown up.” The older man sighed wistfully.
“It happens, sir.”
“I really miss those days.”
The glass slipped from Carly’s hand. Mike caught and steadied the crystal goblet before more than a few drops of water splattered onto the plate.