Tall Tales and Wedding Veils Read Free Page A

rested her chin in her hand, listening to Heather get the bridal-shop experience out of her system. Alison had perpetually widened brown eyes that made her look as if she was interested in anything a person was saying, even when she wasn’t. This was probably one of those times when she wasn’t, but she was too good a friend to say so.

    “It wasn’t just that the style was weird,” Heather said. “It was the color, too. They were
pink.
”

    Alison’s forehead crinkled. “Pink’s not really your color.”

    “That pink wasn’t anybody’s color. Take a blender. Throw in a chunk of watermelon. Toss in a dozen flamingo feathers. Top it off with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. Hit the button, and there you go.”

    “How about we make a pact?” Alison said. “When we get married, we have veto power over each other’s bridesmaid dresses. That’ll lessen the chances of either of us making a tragic mistake.”

    “Sounds like a plan to me,” Heather said.

    They locked pinky fingers, entering into the umpteenth pact they’d made since junior high. The first one had been a pinky swear that unless they both got dates to the Christmas dance, neither one of them would go, which turned out to be a nonissue since nobody asked either of them.

    “Do you remember when we were in high school,” Alison said, “and we made lists of the qualities we wanted in the men we married?”

    Heather remembered. Her list had included
intelligent, well dressed,
and
good sense of humor.
Alison’s list had consisted of
nice body, good kisser,
and
well hung.
Even though they’d both been virgins at the time, Alison’s intuition told her that size really did matter.

    “Yeah,” Heather said. “I wanted a professional man. You wanted a porn star.”

    “Hey! Stamina is a very worthwhile quality in a man. I mean, if it’s over in five minutes, then what’s the point of doing it at all?” Alison looked across the room. “And speaking of men we’d like to marry . . .”

    Heather turned to see one of McMillan’s regulars sitting at a table with another man she didn’t recognize. Her heart always skipped a little whenever she saw Tony McCaffrey, but only because there were certain basic reactions a woman couldn’t fight.

    “Marriage?” Heather said. “A man like him?”

    “You’re right. Forget marriage. I’d settle for a nice, steamy affair.”

    Which was about all a man like Tony would be able to deliver, since guys like him were all about playing the field. With those captivating green eyes and dazzling smile, he could have a woman stark naked before she knew what hit her.

    “Yeah, he’s gorgeous, all right,” Heather said. “But would you really want a man like him?”

    “Please. Would
you
kick him out of bed?”

    “I’d never go to bed with him in the first place.”

    Alison rolled her eyes. “You are such a liar.”

    “No, I’m not. I like men with brains. Guys like him are so good-looking they’ve never had to rely on anything else.”

    “I don’t know about you,” Alison said, “but I’d be having sex with the man, not asking him to derive a new law of physics.”

    “Fine. Why don’t you hop over there and see if he’s free tonight?”

    “Right,” Alison said. “And the entire time we were talking, he’d be looking over my shoulder at one of the waitress’s butts.”

    “Exactly. What’s the future with a guy like him?”

    “Forget the future. I’d be perfectly willing to take him one night at a time.” Alison sighed wistfully. “Why is it women like us never get men like him?”

    “Because we’re B-cups with three-digit IQs.”

    “Seriously. Look what we have to offer. We’re college graduates. We have good jobs with 401(k)s. We’re not in therapy. Maybe we’re not Miss America material, but we don’t scare small children, do we?”

    Heather frowned. “Next you’re going to say we have good personalities and childbearing hips.”

    “Trouble is, we have boring