She Woke Up Married Read Online Free PDF Page A

want a full wedding with a nice Vera Wang and we’ll do a tiered dessert thing, a little white chocolate ruffled cake from Sylvia Weinstock, and some Roederer Reserve champagne. I mean, really .” Anton gestured wildly.
    “I left him back in Vegas.”
    “You know, honey, you really look like hell. And hot pink is not your best postmarital color, sweetie. You look Grace Adler pale today.”
    “Did you hear what I said?”
    “Oh, I heard you. You’ve misplaced your new husband. Don’t worry. He’ll turn up. Hmm, something is just not right. We’re going for the cap today, honey. You need highlights, not chunks.” He took all the plastic clips out and slapped a rubber cap on her head, then started pulling strands through the holes with a crochet hook.
    “Ouch. I do know him, you know. We went to high school together at St. Mary’s our senior year.
    “St. Elvis.”
    “He’s very good looking,” Paris said.
    “This is true. He looks like a complete stud muffin in that picture. Is his hair that black for real, or is that Elvis hair?”
    “It’s for real. But when you’re up close it’s got brown highlights, not blue. He also sings really well.”
    “Now we’re defending the missing bridegroom? And where’s the ring?” Anton did a combination Brooklyn/Bronx twang on that one.
    “I left it with him in the hotel. Did I mention he’s a reverend?”
    “Let’s see now—a little overview. Paris James went on a bender and married Turner Pruitt the singing preaching Elvis—on accident—as my baby sister used to say.”
    “So what’s your point? I told him to get it annulled. It was just a mistake.” She made a face.
    Anton studied Paris’s twisty features in the mirror for a moment—a long moment—without batting an Anton eyelash. That made her squirm. He then resumed pulling strands of her red hair through the rubber cap. “There was that solar eclipse in Gemini. That might account for it. Something is just way weird, girlfriend, I can’t tell you what, but hang on to your garters because all will be revealed as soon as that damn Mercury goes direct again.”
    “You and your planets. I just made a little itty-bitty mistake, that’s all. I’m going back to work, Turner will get this annulled, and that’s all there is to it. Now make me pretty and shut up.”
    Anton raised one eyebrow at her and pulled on her hair again.
    “Ouch!”
    “Beauty requires sacrifice, you cranky bitch.”
    “Fine. Sacrifice me.”
    “Grab that jar on the table and slime some ofthat green stuff under your eyes. You look like you didn’t unpack the bags.”
    “I haven’t been feeling well. I’ve got a flu bug that just won’t leave me alone.”
    Paris leaned forward and grabbed the jar, twisted it and inhaled the soothing mint scent. She took a few fingersful and smeared it under her eyes—and on her temples. That damn headache was coming back.
    She leaned back and endured Anton and his hook. He was muttering to himself now, his full sleeves billowing over her. She closed her eyes and rested. She was still dog-tired for some reason. You’d think months of rest would have helped. Or maybe it was the fine diet she’d been on, or the late-night documentary shows on UFOs and the true story of Courteney Cox’s life. Why did she watch this stuff?
     
    “Excuse the interruption. Is that you under there, Paris?” a deep voice boomed from behind her.
    Anton and Paris both jumped like rabbits. Paris stared into the long studio mirror in front of her and could not believe her eyes. Turner Pruitt. In cowboy boots, jeans, a sheepskin-lined suede jacket, and…the hat.
    He took off the hat.
    “Wow. That explains a lot,” Anton said. He turned to look directly at Turner. “Forget theplanets, you’ve roped in the real McCoy, Paris!”
    “Turner!” Paris shrieked into the mirror. “What the hell are you doing in New York?”
     
    Turner tried to keep a straight face as he gazed upon Paris in her rubber cap with