Saying Yes To The Dress!. Сорейя Лейн

Drew said uncomfortably. “Really, it’s not necessary at all. I have a ton of stuff to do. I’m not very hungry.” This was a complete lie, though he had not realized quite how hungry he was until the food had magically appeared.

      Tandu looked dejected that his offer was being refused.

      “You very irritated with me,” Tandu said sadly.

      Becky caught his eye, lifted her shoulder—come on, be a sport—and patted the blanket. With a resigned shake of his head, Drew lowered himself onto the blanket. He bet if he ate one bite of this food that had been set out the spell would be complete.

      “Look, I wasn’t exactly irritated.” This was as much a lie as the one about how he wasn’t hungry, and he had a feeling Tandu was not easily fooled. “I was just a little surprised by a first aid man who doesn’t like blood.”

      “Oh, yes,” Tandu said happily. “Sit, sit, I fix.”

      “I am sitting. There’s to nothing to fix.” Except that Sainte Simone needed a new first aid attendant—before two hundred people descended on it would be good—but Drew found he did not have the heart to tell Tandu that.

      Maybe the place was as magical as it looked, because he found himself unable to resist sitting beside Becky on the picnic blanket, though he told himself he had complied only because he did not want to disappoint Tandu, who had obviously misinterpreted his level of annoyance.

      “I am not a first aid man,” Tandu said. “Uh, how you say, medicine man? My family are healers. We see things.”

      “See things?” Drew asked. “I’m not following.”

      “Like a seer or a shaman?” Becky asked. She sounded thrilled.

      Drew shot her a look. Don’t encourage him. She ignored him. “Like what kind of things? Like the future?”

      Drew groaned.

      “Well, how did he know we needed a wedding site?” she challenged him.

      “Because two hundred people are descending on this little piece of paradise for a marriage?”

      She actually stuck one of her pointy little elbows in his ribs as if it was rude of him to point out the obvious.

      “Yes, yes, like future,” Tandu said, very pleased, missing or ignoring Drew’s skepticism and not seeing Becky’s dig in his ribs. “See things.”

      “So what do you see for the wedding?” Becky asked eagerly, leaning forward, as if she was going to put a great deal of stock in the answer.

      Tandu looked off into the distance. He suddenly did not look like a smiling servant in a white shirt. Not at all. His expression was intense, and when he turned his gaze back to them, his liquid brown eyes did not seem soft or merry anymore.

      “Unexpected things,” he said softly. “Lots of surprises. Very happy, very happy wedding. Everybody happy. Babies. Many, many babies in the future.”

      Becky clapped her hands with delight. “Drew, you’re going to be an uncle.”

      “How very terrifying,” he said drily. “Since you can see things, Tandu, when is my brother arriving?”

      “Not when you expect,” Tandu said, without hesitation.

      “Thanks. Tell me something I don’t know.”

      Tandu appeared to take that as a challenge. He gazed off into the distance again. Finally he spoke.

      “Broken hearts mended,” Tandu said with satisfaction.

      “Whose broken hearts?” Becky asked, her eyes wide. “The bride? The groom?”

      “For Pete’s sake,” Drew snapped.

      Tandu did not look at him, but gazed steadily and silently at Becky.

      “Oh,” Becky said, embarrassed. “I don’t have a broken heart.”

      Tandu cocked his head, considering. Drew found himself listening with uncomfortable intentness.

      “You left your brokenness in the water,” Tandu told Becky. “What you thought was true never was.”

      She gasped softly, then turned faintly accusing eyes to Drew. “Did you tell him what I said about Jerry?”

      He was amazed how much it stung that she thought he would break her confidence. That accusing look in her eyes should be a good thing—it might cool the sparks that had leaped up between them.

      But he couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Of course not,” he said.

      “Well, then how did he know?”

      “He’s a seer,” Drew reminded her with a certain amount of satisfaction.

      Tandu seemed to have not heard one word of this conversation.

      “But you need to swim,” he told Becky. “Not be afraid of water. Water here very, very good swimming. Safe. Best swimming beach right here.”

      “Oh, that’s a good idea,” she said, turning her head to look at the inviting water, “but I’m not prepared.”

      “Prepared?” Tandu said, surprised. “What to prepare?”

      “I don’t have a swimming suit,” Becky told him.

      “At all?” Drew asked, despite himself. “Who comes to the Caribbean without a swimming suit?”

      “I’m not here to play,” she said with a stern toss of her head.

      “God forbid,” he said, but he could not help but feel she was a woman who seemed to take life way too seriously. Which, of course, was not his problem.

      “I don’t actually own a swimming suit,” she said. “The nearest pool is a long way from Moose Run. We aren’t close to a lake.”

      “Ha. Born with swimming suit,” Tandu told her seriously. “Skin waterproof.”

      Drew watched with deep pleasure as the crimson crept up her neck to her cheeks. “Ha-ha,” he said in an undertone, “that’s what you get for encouraging him.”

      “You swim,” Tandu told her. “Eat first, then swim. Mr. Drew help you.”

      “Naked swimming,” Drew said. “Happy to help when I can. Tandu, do you see skinny-dipping in my future?”

      There was that pointy little elbow in his ribs again, quite a bit harder than it had been the last time.

      But before he could enjoy Becky’s discomfort too much, suddenly Drew found himself pinned in Tandu’s intense gaze. “The heart that is broken is yours, Mr. Drew?”

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      DREW JORDAN ORDERED himself to say no. No to magic. No to the light in Becky’s eyes. And especially no to Tandu’s highly invasive question. But instead of saying no, he found he couldn’t speak at all, as if his throat was closing and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

      “They say a man is not given more than he can take, eh?” Tandu said.

      If there was an expression on the face of the earth that Drew hated with his whole heart and soul it was that one, but he still found he could say nothing.

      “But you were,” Tandu said softly. “You were given more than you could take. You are a strong man. But not that strong, eh, Mr. Drew?”

      His chest felt heavy. His throat felt as if it was closing. There was a weird stinging behind his eyes, as if he was allergic to the overwhelming scent of those flowers.

      Without warning, he was back there.

      He was seventeen years old. He was standing at the door of his house. It was