One Bride Too Many: One Bride Too Many / One Groom To Go. Jennifer Drew

mostly men and a few women with faces that didn’t match their vivid hair colors. What Cole saw at the tables helped explain why Tess felt comfortable here. They’d largely been taken over by twenty-somethings, young professionals trying to dress down and still look cool in designer jeans. The two groups seemed to tolerate each other well enough, with the possible exception of a few tough-looking young guys probably looking to prove something by hitting on classy girls.

      Tess waved at a few younger people but headed directly toward the rear of the building. The pool tables were behind swinging Dutch doors in a back room with an old-fashioned metal ceiling. She’d chosen well. She scrawled her name on a chalkboard, but they were the only ones on the waiting list for a table.

      “What can I get you to drink?” he asked

      “A light beer, please. Playing pool is thirsty work.”

      He’d expected her to order a soda or possibly white wine, but then, he didn’t know much about the Tess of today. He fetched a couple of brews and stood with her watching the action. Finally a couple of giggling girls abandoned their table and left with some guys in motorcycle boots and belts so heavily studded they probably pinched their bellies when they leaned over.

      “You’re the challenger,” she said.

      He racked the balls and tested the weight of the stick he’d chosen. The shaft had been sanded and the tip replaced recently. This place took their pool seriously.

      Tess broke the rack and sank a striped ball. He liked the way she leaned over the table and studied her options. She had a loose, casual style, but once she committed to a shot, she went for it like a pro.

      She impressed the hell out of him. This bet wasn’t the sure thing he’d expected.

      “Nice shot,” he said as she sank another ball.

      In fact, it was too nice. Beating her was going to take some off-table strategy. He stepped behind her and leaned when she leaned, reaching over her to take her wrist as she lined up her next shot.

      “Maybe if you straighten your wrist just a little…” He began coaching.

      “Cole Bailey!” She used her hips like a pair of cannon balls and knocked him away from the table. “I do not need lessons!” she said, confronting him like a raging rhino. “If you touch me again, the match is off.”

      “Understood,” he said, feeling like a jerk. “Some girls appreciate a few pointers.” And a little touchy-feely to go with the sport, he thought, vowing not to forget Tess was different from most women.

      He walked to the other side of the table so he wouldn’t have to watch the little tail twitch she used unconsciously when she was ready to take her shot. She might play killer pool, but she was still at square one in the boy-girl game. Men challenged each other for the competition, but it was a whole different contest to play with a woman.

      I’m a chauvinistic jerk, he thought when she missed her next shot. He could win this bet without rubbing against her backside or distracting her with thinly disguised hugs. After all, this was Tess. He still owed her for getting him through English lit.

      “Sorry,” he mumbled as he stepped up to take his first shot. “I was only trying to be helpful.”

      “Yeah, sure.” She frowned in disbelief.

      He called his shot, knowing he deserved to flub it for trying to use sex to distract a friend. But Tess would keep her word if she lost the match, and he didn’t have any better ideas for meeting nice women. He couldn’t get help from Zack. His brother wouldn’t recognize a nice girl if she came wrapped in tissue and ribbons.

      He cleared the table and won the first game handily. Fortunately, guilt didn’t blunt his skill.

      “That makes me one up,” he said cordially. “Want to concede now?”

      “No way! The bet is two out of three. I’m always a slow starter.”

      “Nice stick you have,” he said, because he found silence between them awkward, not that balls crashing and people talking and laughing at the other eleven tables didn’t fill the room with noise.

      “Seventeen ounces. My dad gave it to me when our team won the league championship last winter.”

      “I’m impressed.” He actually was. He’d never played league pool, but he knew it attracted good players.

      It was his turn to break, and he found himself wanting badly to win without giving her a turn to shoot. Maybe he needed to prove to himself he was the better player. No question his dirty trick had distracted her in the last game. Hell, it was hard for him to concentrate just thinking about it. He could still feel her snug against his front, her bottom wiggling just enough to make him wish she was a date, someone he could take home with him.

      “Idiot!” he muttered under his breath. This was Tess. She’d lost the baby fat, but that didn’t make her fair game. He felt uncomfortable enough using her to meet other women without toying with her. A friend didn’t treat a friend that way.

      He made a couple of mediocre shots, but his heart wasn’t in them. He’d basically stolen the first game. When his third shot bounced an inch away from the hole, he was happy enough to relinquish the table to Tess. He hadn’t exactly thrown the game, but his sloppy playing gave him what he deserved—a loss.

      “Even up,” she said with satisfaction. “Now let’s see some real pool.”

      As the winner of the previous game, it was her turn to break the rack. Cole narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the balls and trying not to see the way her breasts filled out her tank top when she leaned over the table. Women always had the power of distraction on their side, but he had more riding on this game than an opportunity for cheap thrills.

      He squeezed the pool cue until his knuckles were white. He wanted out. He didn’t want to get married, especially not on his grandfather’s timetable. But he knew darn well his mother would be ousted as CEO unless the stock stayed in the family. A young hotshot MBA would come in and take Mom’s place. Even assuming Nick, his half brother, would get his share, he and Zack had to come through for her.

      Balls moved on the bright green table, but his gaze was unfocused. His whole future could depend on Tess Morgan’s ability to push balls with a stick. If she introduced him to someone he decided to marry…

      Or if she won and refused to help…

      Cole forced himself to pay attention. He was in trouble. Two more shots, and she’d be the winner. He’d lose the game and the bet without getting another shot.

      “Oh, no!” She sounded genuinely distressed.

      She’d missed her shot. He’d been sure she was going to beat him, and it took a minute to realize he still had a chance.

      He bit his lower lip, telling himself not to get cocky. He could still blow it. Wiping first one palm, then the other, on the sides of his pants, he tried to psych himself up to win.

      “Number seven in the side pocket.” He called his shot as a courtesy of the game even though it was obviously his only option.

      The cue ball banged the seven ball in with a satisfying thud.

      “I knew you couldn’t miss that,” Tess said in a tone of disgust.

      As the shooter, he could still miss the next shot and lose the bet. He didn’t like the angle between the eight ball and the cup. He’d made harder shots, but he’d missed easier.

      Holding his breath, he went for it.

      The thud of the eight ball going down the hole was music to his ears.

      “Well, I guess you’re the winner,” Tess conceded.

      She put out her hand to congratulate him. It was soft against his work-hardened palm, and he didn’t feel particularly elated at beating her.

      “You shot a great game,” he said.

      “Oh,