6:01 P.M., PST
Just as Ben felt the touch of Anna’s hand on his arm, a slant of afternoon sun on reddish golden tendrils across the rotunda caught his eye. There was only one girl in the world with hair like that. Cammie Sheppard. And she was heading right for him, with Sam and Dee in tow.
Ben couldn’t help but notice that Cammie still moved like walking sex. She was the hottest girl he’d ever known in his life—Cammie Sheppard could make the Iceman cometh. Even when he hadn’t liked her, he’d loved having sex with her, after which he hadn’t liked himself very much. But he was over her now. He wasn’t about to let his life be ruled by the head below his waist.
As Ben watched the approach of the unholy trinity, it occurred to him that he should have prepared Anna for this moment.
“Anna, see those three girls?” he said quickly, cocking his head toward the advancing army. “The brunette is Jackson Sharpe’s daughter. The other two are her best friends. They were a year behind me in high school, we all hung with the same people, and—”
Too late.
“Ben!” Dee squealed.
“Hey, Dee,” Ben said easily.
She stood on tiptoe to hug his neck. Sam threw her arms around him. Cammie was confident enough to be last. She made sure that there was pelvic contact when they kissed.
Which was not lost on Anna. There was something about these girls that put up Anna’s defenses. She slipped an arm through Ben’s. “So, introduce me to your friends,” she told him.
He did. The girls told Anna how thrilled they were to meet her. How much they loved her dress. How cute her shoes were. Anna said she’d forgotten how chilly it got at night in Los Angeles; cool enough for a jacket but obviously not for her winter coat. Cammie immediately volunteered to lead a shopping expedition to Fred Segal.
“You don’t wear fur, do you, Anna?” Dee queried. “Because it’s like I can still hear the animals screaming when I look at their little pelts.”
“You’re wearing leather shoes, Dee,” Cammie pointed out. “Those are made from their little skins.”
“Eew,” Dee whined.
“So Ben,” Sam began, “I thought you were coming alone to the wedding.”
“I was. But I called the wedding planner from the plane and told her assistant there’d been a change of plans. She said it was fine.”
“I hope it’s not too inconvenient,” Anna added.
“It is so no problem,” Sam assured her.
“Firecracker shrimp?” a he-geisha offered. There were no takers.
“I love the waitstaff,” Anna commented. “It took me a minute to realize they were men.”
Sam lifted a champagne flute from a passing he-geisha’s tray. “Not all,” she confided. “One of them is a woman. We’re supposed to wonder who has what equipment under those kimonos. Like anyone cares.”
“If I get bored enough, I’ll do hands-on research.” Cammie winked, flashing a Cheshire cat smile at Ben.
The way Cammie was looking at Ben and the way he was avoiding looking back put Anna’s girl-dar on red alert. Any idiot could see that the two of them must have been an item. Cammie Sheppard was one of the most beautiful girls Anna had ever seen, luscious in a way that made Anna feel prepubescent. Plus she seemed to have Cyn’s self-confidence. Cyn, though, was a sweetheart, and Anna had a strong feeling that Cammie was, well … not.
God. What if Cammie and Ben were Cyn and Scott all over again? But then Anna smiled. She was the one with Ben, not Cammie. This time she’d gotten the guy.
As the three girls continued their banter, Anna leaned gently toward Ben. He eased an arm around her waist. If her earlier confession about the girl on the plane not being the “real Anna” had fazed him, he didn’t show it at all. Anna hoped that was because he’d taken it all in stride.
“So, Anna. We’re all dying to know how you and Ben met,” Dee gushed.
“At Princeton,” Ben said instantly. “There was a kegger at the Lambda Chi house after the Yale football game. Some drunk linebacker was hitting on her—”
“And Ben came to my rescue,” Anna said, delighted to play along with the new and improved how-we-met story. It was like a secret code that only they shared. “We ditched the party, took off in his Jeep, and drove to the beach.”
“Long Beach,” Ben added.
“To watched the sunrise,” Anna concluded.
Dee sighed. “Stuff like that never happens to me.”
“Ben Birnbaum, I am truly impressed,” purred Cammie. “I’ve always known you to be more the take-no-prisoners/do-her-against-the-wall type.”
Cammie was referring to an experience she and Ben had shared one night backstage at the Viper Room. Too much Cuervo Gold could make a girl lose her inhibitions. Not, Cammie realized, that she had very many of those to begin with. Ben had been quite a different Ben back then. At least, so it seemed to Cammie.
“I guess Anna brings out a different side of me,” Ben said.
“That’s so sweet, Anna,” Cammie oozed, then mentally added, Die, bitch.
“How long have you two been together?” Dee asked.
Ben cocked his head at Anna. “What is it, three months now?”
“Two and a half,” Anna corrected. “But it feels like—”
“Dee, baby!” A short guy in his midthirties, clad in a black leather tuxedo jacket and black jeans, interrupted them. He held out his arms to Dee, who squealed, took a running leap, and jumped into them.
“I heard Bobby and Whitney were being psycho again. Daddy didn’t think you’d make it,” Dee said, hugging the man again. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
Which was more than either Anna or Ben could say. Anna’s jaw headed south as she watched Ben’s face go as white as his French-cuffed shirt. Because Dee was in the arms of none other than Anna’s seatmate from hell, Rick Resnick.
Then Rick saw Anna and Ben. A malicious grin split his face. “Well, well, well, if this isn’t a friggin’ movie moment. Annie-bo-bannie and the frat brat!”
Dee looked confused. “Do you guys know each other?”
Rick wagged a finger at Anna. “I met her on the plane from New York.”
“Look, don’t be an asshole about this,” Ben muttered.
“Me an asshole?” Rick asked. He turned to Dee. “That’s when the frat brat met her, too.”
“Wrong,” Sam said. “They go to Princeton together.”
“My lily-white ass they do,” Rick hooted. “I’m telling you, they met on my plane. She was sloshed and looking for a good time, he made a move; next thing I know, badda-bing, badda-bam, they’re going at it in the first-class john.” He pumped his fist for graphic emphasis.
Heat rose to Anna’s face. “That’s not what happened. We didn’t … I didn’t …”
Cammie’s face lit up. “Oh my God, it’s true.”
“We don’t owe them any explanations,” Ben muttered to Anna.
“Ben, how could you?” Sam cried, milking the moment for all she was worth. She put her hand to her heart. “You brought some B-list slut to my father’s wedding? God, she probably did you for the invite!”
If there was one thing Anna knew she was not, it was a “B-list slut.” She also knew that anything she or Ben might say in their defense would make only make them look guiltier. She’d thought getting caught on the plane was humiliating, but it was nothing compared to this moment.
An image sprang into Anna’s mind of the damn Cupid statue in her father’s gazebo. Cupid was the Roman god of love. At that moment Anna wished with every fiber of her being that she was Cupid. Because Cupid could grow wings at will and simply fly away.