The Bride Wore Crimson Read online

  Seth listened, his brow furrowed.

  Meg lowered her voice as if afraid she’d be overheard. “She had ‘the vision.’ She knew things. Like fortune-tellers do.”

  I restrained from rolling my eyes, but a memory stirred. Granny O’Malley in her long black skirts and puffy-sleeved blouses, always waving her arms when she talked. She wore jangling bracelets on each wrist that clanged like a wind chime made of silverware and gave me the gollywobbles as a kid. You know, that queasy feeling in your stomach when you face something creepy. I shuddered now, recalling. I’d always thought of her as a wicked witch, the kind who’d eat Hansel and Gretel. She spoke in a Gaelic tongue that I never could decipher—which made her that much scarier.

  I pinned my best friend with a glare. “What curse, Meg?”

  “I’m not sure. I can’t remember exactly. I recall feeling sick at the thought. That her warning was dire. Something about the marriage failing within the first couple of months.”

  What? Who would put that kind of a curse on a wedding ring? It was cursed if you wore it? Or cursed if you didn’t wear it? It didn’t make sense. “Are you sure you have that right?”

  “Positive,” Meg wailed. “I can’t marry Troy.”

  “Huh?” Seth blurted, obviously taken aback by this new development. I could tell his mind was scrambling for a way to make this right. He excelled at rescuing damsels in distress.

  Meg might be more than he could handle. I caught her hands in mine, cooed soothing words that I hoped were heard over her soft moans, and realized I could use some comfort myself. The wedding planning hadn’t even begun, and I was once again failing at my major maid-of-honor duty of keeping the bride calm. But how did I fight a curse? Exorcism? A séance? I had no idea. I was out of my depths. My logical side categorized all things paranormal as fiction—great for books and movies and tales around a campfire, but not believable in real life.

  Meg, on the other hand, leaned toward all things being possible. Her belief kept me from being too rigid, more open-minded. I pulled her into a hug, and as she cried on my shoulder, I determined that anyone who believed in possibilities deserved a better outcome. I wished her all the love her heart could handle. If marrying Troy would give her that happiness, then someway or another, that needed to happen.

  I had to do something. But what? I looked at the problem from all angles and finally realized there was only one way I could fix this for Meg. My solution? Find the person who was robbing the shops in Weddingville and get back that ruby ring. Heck, I’d helped take down a murderer a couple of months ago. A thief was child’s play. Right?

  CHAPTER SIX

  The next two days, I thought of little else but how to go about finding a thief. My distracted state was not lost on my customers. Or my mother. At the end of the second day, I was no nearer to a plan of action as I busied myself putting the salon area back in order.

  I learned some of my sleuthing skills from watching TV reruns of old-time cop shows. It looks so easy when Joe Friday says, “Just the facts, ma’am.” Or when Steve McGarrett says, “Book ’em, Danno.” In real life, there is no snappy catchphrase that will make criminals putty in my hands. Which sucks, darn it. And even worse, a certain woman can be charged with interfering with an official police investigation if she isn’t very careful.

  Even if the expo weren’t impeding my private, secret investigation of the missing ruby ring, and it was, I had to proceed with caution. But how? I felt like Dorothy on the yellow brick road, standing at a crossroads with four different directions to choose from and no hint of which path to take. Where was a scarecrow when I needed one?

  My gaze went to the wall-mounted camera. Mom had been reluctant to invest in a security system when she’d first started dating Whitey. If it hadn’t worked out between them, she’d be stuck dealing with him, or his company, for the life of the equipment. I rubbed my neck. While I approved of her caution, I couldn’t help but wish that the bridal shop cameras were installed before the cake server set was taken from Something Old, Something New. A prospective suspect or two might’ve been caught on film. At least then I’d have a place to start. As it was, I could count on one finger the clues I had to work from to solve this crime. I huffed out a breath and eyed the changes I’d made to the mannequin in the showroom window with satisfaction.

  “Nice,” Seth said, startling me. Lost in my investigative thoughts, I’d forgotten he was still here.

  “Thanks. Sometimes a different belt or headpiece will transform a gown. Give it a totally different feel.” I glanced in his direction, smiling, catching him lowering his camera. Our eyes met for a second; then he went back to straightening his displays in readiness for tomorrow.

  My heart picked up speed as I watched his graceful movements, noting the give and stretch of the fabric on certain areas of his hard body, his broad shoulders, his trim waist, his tight butt. My temperature seemed to rise with every flex of muscle, no matter how slight. I gave myself a shake. If I didn’t concentrate on something else, I might attack Seth right here, right now. Maybe some coffee would distract me.

  Coffee. Pre-Wedding Jitters. Lisa Marie. Now there was an idea. She might be a font of helpful tidbits that I could use. Customers told her things all the time. She was the bartender of baristas. Hadn’t she given me the good information about the robbery at Bernice’s store, info that she’d gleaned from the temp hired to work at Something Old, Something New? I nodded to myself, but the gesture wasn’t lost on the man in the room.

  “Penny for your thoughts, Blessing,” Seth said, staring at me curiously.

  I blinked, catching his gaze. Damn, but those eyes made me feel naked and hot. In the sexiest possible way. I took a step toward him, sure that my face was giving away my intention of attacking him right there in the bridal shop for anyone passing by to see. “I was just thinking I could use”—a kiss, a hug, a tumble in your bed—“some coffee. How about you?”

  Chicken. Why didn’t you tell him what you really crave?

  “Is that so? I kind of had the impression that it was me you wanted.” He closed the gap between us with panther-like stealth, backing me into a wall, pinning me there, towering over me. I inhaled, catching a scent as fresh as a summer morning with a touch of mint. As he leaned toward my mouth, I also smelled desire.

  “If you keep reading my mind, Quinlan, I’ll have to break open my piggy bank and pay back all those pen—” The last word was lost as his mouth silenced me, the connection of our lips like a series of mini explosions, one after the other until my thoughts whirled.

  He pulled back, his voice a breathless whisper. “I’m not after your money, sweetheart, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Oh, I’d noticed. But I had no time to tell him before he was kissing me again, my toes curling, my insides as fiery and wet as a river of molten butter. His big hands cupped my bottom, pulling me tight against his hips, making sure I felt his need. My bones seemed to dissolve. The urge to strip him of the clothes that impeded my ability to touch every naked inch of Seth tugged at me, but another, sober part of me was screaming, Not here. Not here.

  I tried to silence the party-spoiler voice, but I swear it kept getting louder. Sounding something like a tap-tap-tapping. I knew that sound. What was it? It stopped, and I forgot everything, except the tingling delight of being in Seth’s arms with his lips taking me into the stratosphere. Tap. Tap. Tap. Was that my conscience?

  I broke off the kiss for a second. Listening. Nothing. “Did you hear that?” I whispered to Seth.

  “Only the roar of my pulse in my ears,” he muttered, his voice ragged with desire.

  I decided that was it and let him take me away again on the Passion Express. Tap. Tap. Tap. I startled. “Seth, wait.”

  I peeked my head around the edge of his broad bicep. We were in the salon, the display windows were uncovered, and the Gossip Girls were peering in like visitors at the snake exhibit of a zoo. Tapping on the glass. Grinning like mischievous monkeys. If only they
would hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil. I groaned. Seth started to turn and look, but I stopped him, explaining.

  He burst out laughing, and I covered his mouth, not wanting to bring Mom, Gram, and Jenny running in from the storeroom where they were restocking the racks. “Shh. They’re going to tell the whole town we were making out.”

  “Let them,” he laughed again, then sobered. “Wait. Do you care?”

  Did I? In the scheme of things, I had to admit, I didn’t. Not for myself or even for Seth. “Not about them. Just about embarrassing Mom or Gram.”

  “Well, you’re over twenty-one, right?”

  “Right…”

  “Far as I know, it’s not against the law for two consenting adults to… do what we were doing.”

  “True…”

  He grabbed me, spun toward the window, tipped me backward, and kissed me in full view of the Gossip Girls. My eyes fluttered shut, as delicious shivers spread from my lips and headed south. Muted gasps and giggles faded away on a cloud of passion. Too soon, Seth pulled me upright and then turned toward our audience and bowed, tipping an invisible hat. I was still reeling, and the gossipy trio looked ready to swoon. I couldn’t blame them. Every new aspect of himself that Seth revealed endeared him to me all the more.

  “You’re amazing,” I said when our nemeses had departed to spread the news.

  “And you haven’t even seen all of my tricks yet.”

  “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

  “Like this.” He pulled me to him, tight, his grip firm and exciting, and then he was kissing me again. Only this time, I thought he might never stop, and I didn’t want him to. I opened my lips to welcome his exploring tongue, heard him groan against my mouth, and felt myself slipping into a wonderful fantasy come true. That’s when the ornery little voice in my head reminded me that we were still in the salon, still in view of anyone and everyone passing by. Or sneaking up on us. Like Hannah. I cringed. Pulling back from Seth, I saw that his eyes were glazed with passion. Regret filled me. But I didn’t give in to it. The first time Seth and I made love was not going to be for public consumption.

  As he reached for me again, I resisted, pushing his arms away. I couldn’t catch my breath, but I had to make him listen. “Whoa… sailor… we’re moving too fast.”

  “You don’t like fast?” Seth said. The huskiness in his voice stroked my senses, tugged at my resistance. “No worry. I can be slow.”

  He leaned toward me again. I shook my head. “No. Not here. The cameras.”

  It took a second for my message to sink in, but his brain must have been dulled with lust because he didn’t seem to realize I was talking about the security feed. “Worried those nosy Nancys will show up again—with cameras?”

  “Oh, Lord.” It was bad enough imagining Gram and Mom, or Whitey, viewing the footage of us necking in the salon. But I hadn’t even considered one or more of the Gossip Girls whipping out a cell phone to record our PDA. “Do you really think they photographed us kissing?”

  Seth shrugged, grinning that crooked, naughty smile that started my blood heating with new fervor. “It’s your own fault, Blessing. I can’t think straight around you.”

  I’d waited so long to hear something like this from Seth that I thought my heart would burst from the wonder of it. I reached to touch his cheek, on the brink of losing myself again in the hunger I read in his eyes, a craving that echoed the one deep inside me. Then another thought slammed into me. “What if they did take photos and they post them on Instagram or Pinterest?”

  “You think they have Pinterest pages?”

  I didn’t know, but probably they did. At least one of them. “Maybe.”

  Seth burst out laughing again.

  “What’s so funny?” Mom said as Seth moved away from me, trying to rein in his glee. My cheeks felt on fire. It was one thing for my mother to view footage of Seth and me making out and quite another to have her nearly walk in on us. Granted, she hadn’t. But surely she sensed the electricity bouncing between us.

  It took me a second to realize, however, that she hadn’t even blinked. Huh? Who was this new woman? I had to give Whitey props. He seemed to be a positive influence on her, easing her out of her comfort zone, helping her find the fun-loving woman she’d been before Dad died.

  Mom said, “Are either of you going to tell me the joke?”

  “It’s nothing,” I lied. She’d find out soon enough if the Gossip Girls did as predicted, but I wasn’t about to fill her in. I wasn’t ready to share with anyone. My feelings were too fragile and personal. Too special. I wanted—no, needed—to hold it in my heart a while longer. “Seth was just being silly.”

  He threw me a bemused grin. The twinkle in his eye suggested he was more than willing to confess everything to my mother. I threw him a don’t-you-dare glare, and darn him, he chuckled.

  Mom arched a brow. She knew we were being elusive, but she gave up on finding out about what and switched the subject. “I want to ask you a favor, Daryl Anne.”

  “Okay,” I said, still trying to regain my composure and corral the wanton passion Seth had unleashed. My lips felt swollen and abandoned. My hand found its way to the back of my neck, smoothing the wispy ends of my hair, a nervous gesture that I had no control over and that Mom would surely recognize for what it was.

  She noticed but didn’t comment on it. “As we were sorting and restocking the racks, Jenny mentioned how lovely some of the gowns are. I asked if she had her dress yet. She said that her fiancé’s mother has offered her own wedding dress.”

  “Is Jenny excited about that?” I asked as Seth wandered back to his end of the salon. Mom gestured me to the love seat. It felt great to get off my feet.

  “Not exactly.”

  I wasn’t surprised. Often women come to believe over the years that the gown that was perfect for them when they married will be exactly right for the next generation’s family bride. But styles change drastically in twenty years. The dress in question is more likely nothing near what the new bride envisions herself wearing on her special day. “Did she turn down the offer?”

  Mom glanced toward the storeroom as if to assure herself that Jenny wasn’t within earshot. “She says she was touched when Brad’s mother made the offer.”

  “But…?” I asked.

  “Then she saw the dress.” Mom grimaced. “She showed it to me on her phone. It hasn’t aged well. The lace is yellowed, and the style is something straight from the seventies. Think flower child. High neck, huge sleeves, swishy skirt that was beautiful in its day, but…”

  “Brides today don’t want something as covered up as that. What about redesigning it?” I hadn’t tried my hand at that, but I was willing to give it a shot with Billie’s guidance.

  “She’s afraid to even mention that to Brad’s mom. Apparently the woman is very attached to this dress.”

  What a position to be in. Jenny didn’t want to say yes and couldn’t say no. “What’s she going to do?”

  Mom sighed. “I have a plan. I’m willing to do a special deal for Jenny on a sale item so that she can have a gown she does see herself wearing at her wedding.”

  I gave my mother a hug. “She doesn’t know how lucky she is to have you in her life.”

  Mom smiled at my loving embrace and the compliment. “Well, that’s not my only plan.”

  “Oh?” I pulled back, cocking my head to the side.

  “She hasn’t done much of anything toward planning. I suggested she hire Zelda Love to help with the various tasks required, but she confessed Brad’s parents are paying for the wedding, and the budget is very, very limited. She can’t afford to hire anyone. So I thought maybe you could guide her, like you did for Meg.”

  “Me?” Was she talking about my previous stint as maid of honor? “But Meg had Zelda, and I only did the things that—”

  “It’s going to be a small affair. Nothing much to do. And you’re always so organized, dear. You’re the perfect one.”

  “What
exactly do you see me doing, Mother?”

  “Well, you know, you could take her around to the shops this week. Everyone is running sales.”

  Including us. Had she lost her mind? During a week that was less slammed than this one, I would gladly help a bride-to-be navigate the daunting job of planning her own wedding. My organized mind thrived on this kind of task. But my agenda for the week ahead was already too tight. How was I supposed to fit this in? “I don’t see how—”

  “I was thinking you could introduce her to the shop owners or some of their staff at the different shops,” Mom interjected before I could finish my refusal. Though how she could think this was sweetening the pot was beyond me. She didn’t give me a chance to object. “Make sure she gets my discount on anything she might decide to purchase.”

  I counted to ten. Slowly. Introduce her to staff? I risked a glance at Seth. The coward was backing away, not about to get between two determined Blessing women. “Mom, I’m already scheduled to meet with Zelda and Meg tomorrow to start planning Meg and Troy’s wedding.”

  Of course, that wedding might not happen, if the ring wasn’t found.

  “Perfect,” Mom declared. “Jenny can tag along and take notes.”

  How was I supposed to juggle Zelda and Meg and Jenny? And do any sleuthing?

  I froze. Wasn’t I just wondering how to get the staff at the Ring Bearer and Something Old, Something New to open up to me about the robberies? Until now, I’d had no idea how to accomplish that. I bit down on a sudden surge of excitement. Hah. Leave it to Mom to deliver the means I’d been seeking. This was brilliant. I could hunt clues to my heart’s content without Troy or Seth accusing me of nosing in on an official police investigation. “Okay. I’ll do what I can.”

  “Oh, good. I knew I could count on you, Daryl Anne.” She hugged me, then stood and said, “Whitey is bringing Chinese takeout for Billie and me. He’s getting plenty if you two don’t have other dinner plans.”