Stand-in Groom Read Online Free PDF Page B

chill in her voice. “We’re here to sign a prenuptial agreement.”
    Mrs. Mert stood up and moved silently down a corridor with one last disapproving look back at Johnny.
    “Is that a class you can take in private school?” Johnny asked. “You know, Chilly Disapproval 101? She’s definitely a master, but you’re not so bad at it yourself.”
    “Oh, God, please don’t compare me to Mrs. Mert. She wasn’t exactly hired for her tolerance.”
    “No kidding. I think she likes me about as much as she likes getting a piece of bubble gum stuck on the bottom of her shoe.”
    She smiled at him. “The gum she can take care of with some ice and a putty knife. You look a little bit more difficult to get rid of.”
    “Why, because I’m not wearing a business suit and a noose—I mean, tie—around my neck?”
    “That’s part of it.” Chelsea gazed at him. “But I think it’s mostly your hair,” she said.
    “My
hair?
”
    “Wait a sec.” She sat down and dug to the bottom of her purse, coming up with a ponytail holder. “Try this.”
    He sat down next to her. “It’s more than my hair. It’s the ‘us versus them’ theory. Mrs. Mertthinks she’s ‘us,’ and I’m definitely ‘them.’ You’re ‘us,’ too, although your status is shaky now that you’ve been seen with me.”
    Chelsea studied him almost pensively as he raked his hair back with his fingers, gathering it into a ponytail. “You’re probably right,” she said. “People like Mrs. Mert feel threatened by people like you.”
    “People like me.” Did she mean people in his tax bracket, or people who were born in a crummy part of town with a less-than-pure pedigree?
    “People like you,” Chelsea repeated, “who are too sexy for their shirts.” She was doing her best not to smile, but she couldn’t hide the sparkling amusement in her eyes.
    “Damn,” he said with a laugh. “You’re never going to let me live that down.”
    “You know what they say about first impressions.”
    “Let’s see, if I remember correctly, I wrestled your handbag away from muggers, staring down a pretty nasty-looking switchblade knife in the process,
and
okay, yes, I
was
wearing a dumb T-shirt. But somehow you only seem to remember the shirt part.”
    “Some things just stand out above the rest.” She grinned at him. “I heard that song on the radio just about an hour ago, and it occurred to me that we should use it for our first dance at the reception.”
    “Your parents would
love
that.” Dance. They were going to have to dance at the reception. He would have to hold her in his arms and—
    “I would ask the band to play an instrumental version—my parents would never know.”
    “Whoa, you’re not kidding, are you?”
    She just smiled at him. “We need to get you fitted for a tuxedo,” she said. “And do you happen to know your ring size?”
    “Ring size? Not a chance. But I already have a tux.”
    “Black shoes?”
    “Got ’em. Italian leather—Emilio would approve.”
    She pointed to his ponytail. “That’s definitely the way an Italian investment banker would wear his hair. It’s very high finance.”
    “Are you sure I don’t need a scrunchee with dollar signs on it or something?”
    “No scrunchees. Unless they’re Italian leather.” She paused. “John, it’s occurred to me that youmay not know much about banking and the stock market and all that. I mean, I don’t even know where you work—besides Meals on Wheels.”
    “I work at Lumière’s—it’s a restaurant downtown.” He could see from her eyes that she didn’t recognize the name. He could also see that she was not impressed. Most people weren’t—until they tasted his cooking. “And you’re right,” he said. “The most that I know about banking is that my savings account doesn’t make nearly enough interest anymore. And as far as investments go, right now my sole investment is a two-dollar quick-pick lottery ticket I’ve got for next Wednesday’s