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SANDI DIDN’T THINK she’d ever seen anything as beautiful as Ginger and Sam’s wedding ceremony. It was a lot longer than Fred and Mac’s businesslike vows had been. The carved wooden archway with its white chiffon drapes, the colorful ribbons snapping over their heads, the brilliant summer sun smiling down on them all, and the jewel-like Pacific Ocean glittering in the background—they all combined with the scent of jasmine and the solemnness of the occasion to bring an ethereal quality to the afternoon.
Or maybe it was just her state of mind, Sandi thought. She hadn’t eaten much that day, and she felt a touch lightheaded. But it really felt as if there was something magical happening, as Sam took Ginger’s hand in his, and said, “I, Samuel George Pankhurst, freely and with love and sincere desire, take you, Virginia Lara Cartwright, to become my wife. I promise to respect you and cherish you as an individual, a partner, and an equal. I will care for you, stand beside you, and share with you all of life’s adversities and all of its joys from this day forward, and all the days of my life. This is my solemn vow.”
A tear ran down Sandi’s cheek. They were beautiful words, full of sincerity, and Sam said them looking into Ginger’s eyes, his own filled with love.
Sandi had once thought she would do this with Brodie. Now, she couldn’t imagine ever saying them to a man.
How wonderful it would be to have a guy look at her the way Sam was looking at Ginger. But it was never going to happen. Because for that to happen, she would have to look at him the same way. And right there, right then, Sandi knew she was done. Fred had called her a coward, but she was wrong. It wasn’t cowardice. It was self-preservation. If you jumped out of an airplane and broke your leg, was it cowardice never to want to jump again, or was it commonsense? If you’d been injured, there would always be a weakness in the bone, and if you jumped again, you’d be even more likely to injure yourself.
And of course, if you’d broken your leg, you were bound to be fearful of leaping out of another plane. Cowardice was being too afraid to do something of which you had no experience. Being wary of something that had hurt you was being sensible—it was an inbuilt guard that made humans refrain from putting their hands into fire.
Over the past two years, she’d been in a limbo world, gradually healing, but suspended in emotional turmoil as she tried to move on to the point where she could bring herself to love again.
Now, coming to the decision that it wasn’t going to happen, and she didn’t have to open her heart again, a strange peace settled over her, a peace she hadn’t been able to find for a long time.
She watched Sam place a ring on Ginger’s finger, and felt a contentment she hadn’t thought she’d feel, having assumed she’d be overcome with jealousy at the notion that she was the only one as yet unattached. Her sisters were happily married, and it was great to know they were going to be cared for. She would be around when they had their children, and she’d be able to play auntie and have all the fun of cuddling the babies and being there when they grew up, without having any of the responsibility.
And she’d be able to live out her life here, in Blue Penguin Bay, as selfishly as she wanted. She could continue to make the B&B into a beautiful place to stay, and possibly, if the others didn’t object, she’d think about adding a spiritual touch to the place—possibly running the occasional retreat. She could hire yoga teachers or meditation gurus to come and run classes, and get Ginger to offer a few days of healthy and vegetarian food options. It was the perfect place to come to escape, with the view of the sea and the occasional cry of seagulls. Maybe the lure of a good Merlot or Chardonnay wasn’t the best aid to a spiritual awakening, but after saying that, Sandi didn’t personally see how one glass of wine with your evening meal was a sin—wasn’t red wine supposed to be good for the heart?
She’d be able to concentrate on her work, on her hobbies, on the friends she was starting to make in the town, and on just being, without worrying about all the hassles that came with having a partner.
She’d miss never having sex again. But she’d buy herself a new vibrator, and that would do the job just as well. She didn’t need a man. Men were unreliable and untrustworthy. She’d never have to worry about them again.
Closing her eyes, she let the afternoon breeze brush across her skin. Fred wouldn’t like it, and neither would Ginger, but she’d deal with her sisters. They’d be too caught up in having their own families and running their businesses, and they’d eventually lose interest once they found out she wasn’t going to change her mind.
She was finally free...
A shadow fell across her face, and she opened her eyes to see Jace Hart standing before her, his huge frame blocking out the sun.
“You dozing off?” He flicked back the tails of his morning coat and slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
Sandi looked around with alarm—the service was over, and Sam and Ginger were busy signing the official papers. Wow, she’d really zoned out.
She gave Jace a wry look. “No, not quite. I was lost in thought.”
“You looked it. Busy planning your own big day?”
“Ha!” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fred looking at her, but ignored her teasing grin. “I’m never getting married,” she said firmly. Ignoring the huge paw that he extracted from his pocket and held out to help her up, she got to her feet and straightened her dress.
“You’re a fan of living in sin,” Jace commented. “I approve heartily.”
Sandi tipped her head to the side, giving him an exasperated look. God, the guy knew how to wear a suit. She’d wondered whether he’d look like a gorilla in a tux, because sometimes big men were uncomfortable dressed up, but he just looked like an extra-large James Bond. He was big all over, from his shoulders to his hands to his... feet.
She wasn’t going to think about the size of other pieces of his anatomy.
Unperturbed by her remonstrative glare, he grinned, and his gaze slid down her figure in the flimsy bridesmaid dress in a most un-politically-correct display of male approval.
“You look good in that dress,” he said.
“Haven’t you listened to the news lately?” She poked him with her posy of flowers. “It’s not the done thing to praise a woman for her looks anymore.”
“And the world is such a better place for it,” he said in a tone that suggested he didn’t think anything of the sort. “How about if I tell you that you have a beautiful brain? Would that do?”
“I don’t think brains are particularly beautiful, but you’re on the right lines.”
“You have a very sexy hypothalamus,” he said. “Promise me a dance later on?”
Fred, who’d been half-listening to their exchange, laughed. “Smooth talker,” she said to Jace. “Yes, she will dance with you later, but first we have to have our photos taken. Come on.”
Sandi opened her mouth to protest, but Fred was already spiriting her away to where the photographer was directing Sam and Ginger beneath the archway. For the next thirty minutes or so they posed and hugged Ginger and posed again, first with her and Sam and Jace, and then with all the other guests, until finally the photographer was satisfied.
Sandi managed to avoid talking to Jace, but her heart picked up its pace every time she remembered his request for a dance. She didn’t want to be rude, but the man was surprisingly persistent. How could she persuade him that no meant no, not maybe?
“I’m married!” Ginger made the announcement to her sisters when the guests started to head over to the restaurant. She held up her hand, admiring her wedding ring. “He can’t escape me now. Mwahaha.”
“Foiled again.” Proving he had no intention of trying to get away, Sam slid an arm around her waist, pulled her against him, and caught her lips in a long smooch.
“Not in public,” she complained, flustered and with pink cheeks, when he finally released her.
“As you said, we’re legal,” Sam pointed out. “I can kiss you anytime I want and you can’t stop me.” He nuzzled her neck. “I’m going to chain you to the kitchen sink.”
“Only if they’re real handcuffs,” she murmured, turning her head to meet his lips.
“Good grief.” Fred rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
“I’ve so gotta get me one of those,” Jace said, gesturing at Ginger.
“I don’t think it’s your style,” Mac told him. “Oh, sorry, I assumed you meant the dress.”
“The empire line does suit me, but I was referring to obtaining a wife.” Jace gestured to the bridesmaid at his side. “Sandi’s informed me that she’s okay with living in sin, though, so that’s something.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” she told the others as they all smirked. “Stop teasing me,” she scolded him.
“Aw,” he said. “But it’s such fun.”
Blowing out a breath, she left the group and walked across the lawn toward the restaurant.
For once, Ginger had left it in the hands of her capable sous chef, Phil. They were laying on a light and summery three course meal, and then later on a finger buffet as a few more guests joined them for the evening. There was no hall at the vineyard, so they’d just opened the inner doors to the restaurant’s spare room, and also the sliding doors to the outer courtyard. White-clothed tables spilled out onto the tiles, shaded by the vines that had been trained to grow on the overhead trellis work, providing a natural indoor-outdoor flow.
Currently, they were serving drinks while Sam and Ginger had more formal photographs taken on the lawn. Sandi took a glass of wine and went to check the round table in the center of the restaurant, which was where she would be sitting with Sam and Ginger and the others. She checked her place setting—between Sam and Mac, that was good. Jace would be opposite, between Ginger and Fred, so although he wasn’t a million miles away, there would be no intimate conversations going on.
“Sandi!” It was her friend Ally, who came up and gave her a hug. Ally had worked in Sam’s bakery in town before a cyclone had destroyed it earlier in the year. Now, she worked in the recently finished patisserie he’d had built next to Ginger’s restaurant. She was working as a waitress today, and wore smart black trousers and a white shirt. “Oh my God, you look amazing.” Ally took a step back and admired Sandi’s dress. “You look like a Greek goddess. You’re going to have every single guy here drooling all over you by the end of the evening.”
“That sounds gross. I hope there won’t be drooling of any kind anywhere near me.” She grinned nevertheless. “Everything going okay?”
“Yep. Everything’s fine. Hey, come and look at the cake—we’ve just brought it out. It looks fantastic.”
Sandi knew that Sam had been working on the wedding cake for a while, but he hadn’t let anyone see it until now. She followed Ally over to the long table against one wall. Ginger and Phil had come up with the idea of an iced tea bar—there were jars of different iced teas in beautiful jewel-like colors, along with mason jars, color-coordinated straws and napkins, and bowls of lemons and oranges picked that morning and cut into slices. There were even gourmet ice cubes, containing berries, herbs, and flowers. Next to these sat the cake—a fantastic construction consisting of three tiers of round sponges in decreasing sizes, with smooth white icing, trimmed with ribbon, and covered in edible flowers that must have taken him days to create.
“Oh, it’s wonderful.” Sandi knew Ginger would love it. “God, he’s so talented, isn’t he?”
“You should see the croquembouche he’s made for dessert,” Ally said. “You’ll fall off your seat.”
“Croquet-what?”
“It’s French—it’s choux pastry balls piled into a cone with threads of caramel all around them. If we make it out of here today without putting on at least six pounds, I’ll be amazed.”
“I can’t believe he made his own wedding dessert,” Sandi said. “At least we managed to get Ginger out of the kitchen for the day.”
“Yeah, but she had to clear every course Phil came up with,” Ally pointed out. “She and Sam are certainly made for each other, don’t you think?” She picked up a bottle of Merlot and a bottle of Pinot Gris. “Anyway, I’d better get serving.” She gestured behind Sandi. “The best man is a bit of a hunk, isn’t he?”
Sandi turned to see Jace, who was talking to Sam, but staring at her. She pursed her lips. “That, Ally, my friend, is a man who is going to leave Blue Penguin Bay this evening very disappointed, unless he doesn’t get the hint very soon.”
“Aw,” Ally said. “He looks yummy. Can I have him?”
“By all means,” Sandi replied, squashing the strange flicker she felt inside at the notion of Ally asking Jace for a date. She turned away, determined to put him out of her mind.
She spent a while talking to a couple who ran another B&B in Paihia, taking them on a tour of her own rooms, then got distracted with a couple of friends, and went for a walk with them down to the vines to show them the different kinds of grapes they grew at the vineyard. By the time they returned to the restaurant, everyone was taking their seats for the wedding breakfast, and there was only one seat left at her table, between Sam and Jace. Mac was now sitting on the other side. Someone had switched nameplates.
She put her hands on her hips. “How did you wangle that?” she asked Jace.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He took a big mouthful of wine and met her gaze innocently. She gave him another exasperated glare. He just raised his eyebrows, then grinned and winked.
Oh dear. Now she had to spend the next hour or two making polite conversation with a guy who was determined to get into her knickers that evening. She should have bought herself a chastity belt.
