Kenzi wagged her finger at it. “Maybe for entertaining clients at a nice dinner, but not for a wedding.”
Trish draped the dress over her arm and huffed. “We can debate a regular marriage all day long, but BMB marriages are far from ordinary. Your roles will be well defined in the prenup, and you aren’t giving this guy your heart. Do you think you could find a dress forthatkind of a ceremony?”
Kenzi pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry I’m being difficult and argumentative.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Trish said with enough flippancy that it was obvious she’d noticed. She continued to load her arm with dresses and muttered to herself. Kenzi smiled at her determination and admired her ability to focus on the task at hand while Kenzi had done what she could to distract her. She wandered off on her own, not really looking at anything.
Trish was right. Even though the ceremony was called a marriage, the union she would enter into on Tuesday was as far as a person could get from her previous engagement. As long as the guy had a head on his shoulders and a conscience in his soul, everything should be fine. Harrison wrote skintight contracts that protected her and her mystery groom in all areas—including intimacy. Marital relations weren’t forbidden, but they weren’t expected either. That was a relief in and of itself. She didn’t know if she could allow herself to become physically close to a man. Her lack of experience in that area had been another mark against her in Clyde’s book.
She really needed to stop thinking about Clyde—an all but impossible task, considering the nature of their errand this morning. The best way to dilute the memories of him would be to flood her head with new wedding experiences. Then, by the time she was ready to open her heart again, she’d have two engagements and a wedding under her belt—hopefully this wedding would go well enough to look back upon fondly.
Rubbing her hands together, she spun slowly, looking for something that was the opposite of her last wedding dress. The opposite of white was black. She pressed her lips together. The store didn’t seem to have one black dress. Curses. Next best thing? Color. Bright. Vibrant. Color.
She spun again, this time much faster, and then closed her eyes. The color painted against the back of her eyelids was hot pink. She laughed in her head. Clyde and his snooty British family hated hot pink. She popped her eyes open and headed right for the display. They had pink with white polka dots, white with pink chevron, plain pink with pleats, and a plaid that was right on the border of hideous and fantastic. The garment was one that, if worn on the red carpet, could either have the wearer in the Best Dressed category or the Total Flop article. There was no way to tell until the reviews were in.
She went for the plaid.
Trish wasn’t far behind her. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbled.
“I’m trying this on.” Kenzi found her size and headed straight for the changing rooms. An attendant with a jingling key ring and a horse’s smile opened the far right door. Kenzie stepped inside and shut it quickly before Trish could even think about forcing her way inside the giant changing room that was complete with couch and three-way mirrors.
“I’m going to hang these other dresses out here.” Trish’s voice carried a hopeful note. She probably thought the plaid dress was a Total Flop.
“Sounds good.” Kenzi closed her eyes as she pulled the dress up and zipped the side zipper. It felt snug in places her suits didn’t hug tight. Ever so slowly, she turned around to face the mirror and opened her eyes.
With a body inside the dress, it looked completely different than when it hung limp on a hanger. The pattern on the fabric had been cut perfectly to match up in all the right places.
She pressed her hands flat over her breasts, a little embarrassed by how good the dress made them look. And her waist? She ran her palms over the silky fabric. She was trim. The fabric was a little stiff, which helped the dress flare out above her knees.
“How’s it going?” asked Trish. “Are you ready for me to hand you something else?”
“Nope.” Kenzi grinned at her reflection. The dress was well made and fit her as if it had been designed by her own personal guardian angel seamstress—but more than that, it was whimsy. Nothing in her first engagement had been fun; it was all work, managing personalities, and falling short at every turn. She threw the door open and tossed her hands out to the side. “This is it.”
Trish stepped into the spacious changing room and circled Kenzi. “Okay, I can honestly say I’m shocked at how good that looks on you.”
“I can honestly say I’m taking that as a compliment.”
Trish laughed. “Don’t be mad. I was planning on hours of shopping this morning, and you’re buying the first dress you tried on. You’re spoiling the fun of spoiling a bride.”
Kenzi shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, I never would have bought this dress if you hadn’t brought me here today. I’d probably get married in a black business suit.”
Trish shuddered dramatically.
Kenzi laughed and turned back to the mirror. “I think I’m ready to get married now.”
It was Trish’s turn to laugh.
“What?”
“Not quite. The dress is just step one.” She backed out the door and shut it behind her. “I’ve got a full spa treatment for you Tuesday morning. By the time we’re done, you’ll positively glow.”
Kenzi rolled her eyes. A pre-wedding spa day had Aunt Pamela written all over it. She had blocked Tuesday morning on her calendar for the wedding. As long as she was in the office by one, why shouldn’t she indulge? It had been ages since she’d taken care of herself. She had calluses on her heels that needed a cheese shredder, and her nails were unhealthy. Yeah, a spa day would be just what she needed to keep her nerves under control.
She needed to boost her courage before meeting the man she was going to marry. Her reflection paled. She was getting married. Somewhere out there in the city was a man who would soon give her his last name. Despite her head warning her against it, her heart was something of a romantic and hoped he’d be someone she could connect with. Friends at the least. But what if there could be more?
Better not get her hopes up. Better to keep her thoughts on the business side of the union. Better for all involved if hearts just stayed out of it.
