Mother of the Bride by Lynn Michaels Page A

candles. All through dinner he'd fantasized about catching the Y-end in his teeth while he kissed the peach-toned hollow of her throat.
    “I think I have a solution to your quandary about where to have the wedding.” Gus swung his gaze back to Aldo and Bebe, swearing he'd keep it there. “Tall Pines.”
    His nephew's eyes sprang wide and his jaw dropped. Cydney Parrish's teacup clattered onto its saucer.
    “Uncle Gus?” Aldo made the peace sign with his right hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
    “Three,” Gus said, just to be perverse. “Two fingers, Aldo, and no, I didn't hit my head that hard.”
    “What's Tall Pines?” Bebe asked.
    “My home, Bebe. Mine and Aldo's,” he said, just in case Aldo had forgotten. “Tall Pines was once a bed-and-breakfast. There are fifteen bedrooms in the house.” Bebe's eyes widened. Her elbow slid onto the table to support her chin as she leaned closer to listen. “There's a great room we never use that will hold at least one hundred people. Huge stone fireplace, a wall of windows overlooking the lake.”
    Gus paused to let Bebe catch up. When her lips stopped moving and her eyes lit up, he continued.
    “Pine floors and paneling throughout. The closest airport is in Springfield, one hundred and twenty-five miles from Tall Pines. And the best part is that Crooked Possum isn't on any road map.” Gus leaned over the table toward Bebe. “Aldo gets lost every time he comes home. I guarantee your mother won't find her way out once you get her there.”
    “It's perfect !” Bebe crowed, leaping out of her chair and around the table. “Oh thank you, Uncle Gus! Thank you, thank you!”
    Gus barely had time to get to his feet before Bebe flung herself at him. He caught her around the waist with his left arm and the back of his chair in his right hand to keep her momentum from knocking them over. He had to swing her halfway around to do it, looked over the top of her red head and saw Cydney Parrish gazing at him. Gus wasn't sure if the tilt of her chin meant she didn't believe him or she didn't trust him.
    “You don't approve, Cydney?”
    “Offering Tall Pines is a lovely gesture.” She let go of her cup and tucked her hands in her lap. “Bebe clearly loves the idea. The decision is hers and Aldo's, of course, but I think Crooked Possum is too small and too far off the beaten track. We need a florist and a caterer, and it would be nice if the wedding guests had a prayer of finding the place.”
    “I only care about Mother, Uncle Cyd.” Bebe turned and faced her aunt. “If she'll be stuck in Crooked Possum I'll be happy.”
    “I'm sure you can find everything you need in Branson,” Gus said. “It's quite a booming little metropolis since country music came to town, and it's only a fifty-mile drive.” Each way, but Gus decided not to mention that. “An easy trip.”
    If you're a mountain goat, his inner voice said. Have you no shame, Munroe? Absolutely none, Gus realized. And no scruples, either. He'd sell his soul to the devil if he hadn't already sold it to his publisher.
    “And Branson is, what?” Cydney asked. “Two hundred miles from Kansas City? A wedding can't be planned long distance, Mr. Munroe, and we only have eleven days.”
    “Gus. So come to Tall Pines as soon as you need to.”
    Cydney arched an eyebrow. “Would tomorrow be convenient?”
    “Tomorrow's fine. I'll have your rooms ready.”
    “Mr. Munroe.” She rose from her chair, shaking her head as she started gathering dishes. “You're not being practical. Aldo and Bebe have classes here in Kansas City.”
    “School's not a problem, Uncle Cyd,” Bebe said. “Aldo and I have mostly lectures this semester. We've talked to our professors and we've decided to wait till summer to take our honeymoon.”
    “Oh,” Cydney said. Dismayed for all of five seconds, then she said “Oh,” again, brightly, and gave Gus a smug look. “That's very mature of you and Aldo, but I see more problems