Shopping for a CEO (Page 100)

See? Aerosolized Xanax would come in handy now, wouldn’t it?

“WHERE ARE THEY GOING?” Marie is screaming, enraged beyond the point of all reason, and I really do wish she’d hired that elephant and trainer after all, because an animal tranquilizer gun would come in handy right about now.

James, my mom, and Jason all put up their hands in a gesture of ignorance.

Carol and Terry are drinking Champagne near the fountain. The caterers look like they’ve pretty much picked up on the fact that there won’t be an actual marriage ceremony given the sudden escape of the bride and groom, so they’re putting out food.

Hamish is standing next to Amy, his hot soccer player legs half-bare, kilt ending at the knees and Agnes is on the ground, bent down in—huh? Is she doing yoga? Why would a ninetysomething woman be doing yoga at a wedding, in a suit?

Her red hat slides under Hamish’s legs and she shoves her arm in the air, brushing against his kilt. Hamish looks down, one eyebrow flying high in consternation.

“He’s authentic, Corrine!” Agnes gives her old friend a thumbs’ up. Corrine hobbles over and smiles down at Agnes.

“I owe you ten bucks,” Agnes adds with a disagreeable sigh.

“Here. We’ll call it even,” Corrine says, fishing in her purse for a powder compact, her knees popping as she bends downs. “Take this, open the mirror, and angle it just so—”

“Americans are so weird,” Hamish grumbles. But he doesn’t move.

Andrew reaches around me, careful to preserve my modesty, as he leans in for a kiss, the touch and taste of him a reunion that fills my heart with—

“STOP THAT! YOU SHOULD BE ON THE PHONE ARRANGING THE CORPORATE JET FOR US!” Marie shouts at Andrew. Her hair flies around her face in a swirl of hairsprayed plates, like someone has molded her hairdo in a factory and clicked it together like Pergo flooring. Click. Click. Click.

And someone just unfastened it all.

“To go where?”

Marie zeroes in on me and Andrew, eyes like snake slits. “YOU TWO KNOW!”

My heart pounds hard and suddenly, like someone is practicing handball in my chest.

Remember how I said Andrew has tells? Well, I do too, apparently. My eyes flicker over to Carol, who is loudly explaining to Jeffrey that just because I got to “swim” doesn’t mean he and Tyler can, too.

Marie follows my gaze and while she might not be the crispiest taco shell in the package, she gets my subconscious glance’s meaning instantly.

“Ohhhhhhh, noooooooo. Not Las Vegas! Not like Carol and Todd. Please tell me they didn’t just run off to Vegas,” she whimpers, her voice going soft, the volume change disconcerting.

“They didn’t just run off to Vegas,” Andrew says in a robot voice, then takes my face in his hands and kisses me again, the touch of his mouth and the texture of his breath so delightful.

“ORDER THE CORPORATE JET TO TAKE US THERE.”

And she’s back.

“Where?” Andrew asks, his mouth still on mine. “And Marie? We’re kind of busy.”

Hysterical laughter ripples out of her like clowns pouring out of a car at a circus. “BUSY? BUSY? YOU ARE BUSY GROPING AMANDA AND I AM BUSY PICKING UP THE SHATTERED PIECES OF THIS—“

“We’re trying to make up!” Andrew grinds out, clearly upset at her interruption.

“MAKE UP IN VEGAS!” she screams back, reaching out to pluck a very wet, very angry Chuckles from Jason as she storms off, her tartan sash snagging on chair legs.

Andrew looks at me, eyebrows raised.

“Vegas? Why would I want to go to Vegas?”

“Make up sex in Vegas?” I ask.

He grabs his phone. “You have a way with words.”

THE END…until Vegas…

And speaking of Vegas, wonder what’s happening in that helicopter as Declan and Shannon escape their own wedding?

* * *

Who needs a SWAT team to escape from their own wedding? Me.

My Momzilla turned us into hostages at our own ceremony, so Declan and I are getting married the good old-fashioned way, just like everybody else.

By calling in his private security team, stealing away before the ceremony by helicopter, connecting to his corporate jet and heading for Las Vegas.

The Boston wedding of the year is about to become a trashy Elvis drive-thru ceremony.

Until the best man spills the beans and Mom, Dad, my sisters, his brothers, my maid of honor, my friend Josh, and even my cat, Chuckles, all come along for the ride.

I can’t win, can I?

Oh. Yeah. I already did.

Love conquers all.

Even my crazy family.