His 1-800 Wife by Shirley Hailstock Page B

gaze away from him. He was beautiful. She'd never seen a man more perfect. He'd stood her in front of a mirror today and forced her to look at herself. Now she looked at him, stared at him. He knew the effect he'd had on her. When had this happened?
    She should get in the water. The Atlantic was often cold and refreshing; however, today she feared that if she walked into the water, her body would sizzle.
     
    Chapter 5
     
    It was her wedding day. Catherine couldn't believe how fast the last six weeks had passed. She also couldn't believe this room. Masquerading as a guest room, it now looked like the aftermath of a war zone, a war of roses, baby's breath, netting, gloves, tissue paper and discarded clothes. Bridesmaids crowded the mirrors, applying makeup and adjusting their hair. Catherine's mother bustled about as if she'd lost her way. Audrey muttered to herself about cater­ers, the band, the photographer, any number of details that needed her personal attention or the world would fall apart. Everyone was talking, raising the noise level to decibels high enough to repel dogs.
    Bouquets, shoes, purses and spilled magazines were scattered on the bed, the floor, the dresser and draped across the sides of the antique mirror. The room looked like an explosion of white cotton mixed with clusters of pink and rose.
    Catherine was the only one not moving or talking. People skittered about her as if she were an appari­tion. She looked at her white gown, seeing the irony of her ghostlike appearance. Yet she wasn't a ghost, and the man she was marrying wasn't a ghost either. She wished she were; then she wouldn't be the only scared person in this room; that is, if she discounted Audrey, who was probably afraid something would go wrong, like mayonnaise jelling in shrimp salad or the petals in the pool withering before the reception started.
    She wondered what Jarrod was feeling at that moment. Was he as uptight as she was? Catherine looked around her. She wanted to scream, force them all to leave, give her some breathing space, but she was too frightened she'd come undone. Whatever was holding her together, she needed to cling to it or she'd be worse off than the other women around her.
    A knock on the door arrested everyone's attention. They all stopped at once, as if some choir director had cut the last note with a quick snap of his thumb and forefinger. Everyone turned and looked at the white-with-gold-accented door as if they expected the horror from 20,000 leagues to enter.
    It wasn't a monster, but one of Audrey's maids who came inside. She looked at Catherine and offered her a smile.
    "The photographers are here," she said to Audrey.
    Moments later, Catherine allowed the platoon of photographers to place Catherine and the brides­maids in position. Thank God, they lived in a small state. It seemed Audrey had hired every photographer available. Video crews and portrait photographers swarmed over the group, separating them and putting them together like marionettes. She smiled for the cameras, doing everything expected of a blushing bride, but her flush was due more to her deceptive plan than the love she should be feeling today.
    She wished this whole affair was behind her. If she had it to do over, she would never agree to a wedding. An elopement would be quick and simple. Allowing Audrey to plan this circus had been her second mis­take, but there was nothing to be done about it now. In a few hours it would be over. She and Jarrod would have the wedding and reception behind them. They'd be on a plane to Montana, away from everyone and able to relax.
    She looked forward to the honeymoon. It would be a time she could literally let her hair down. There would be no one around they needed to pretend for. They'd be free to do as they pleased for a week. By the time they returned home, she'd be in a better frame of mind and could develop the routine she and Jarrod would play for the next six months.
    Catherine plastered a smile on