Resisting Mr. Tall, Dark & Texan. Christine Rimmer

glanced over her shoulder to see a tall, lean man silhouetted in the open doors from the vestibule. He wore old jeans, a wrinkled shirt and a black Stetson with the brim dipped low, hiding his face, so that all she could see was a square jaw stubbled with beard.

      More people were starting to whisper.

      “What in the world …?”

      “Never seen him before …”

      There were rustling sounds everywhere as the guests turned to see what all the whispering was about.

      The mystery man stepped back. He disappeared from the open doorway. And then Dillon Traub, the best man, came striding down the side aisle, slipping out after the stranger.

      The organist started playing again and everyone faced front once more as the radiant bride and her handsome groom walked back up the aisle arm in arm.

      The reception, in the flower-and-satin-bedecked resort ballroom, was fabulous, Lizzie thought. Dinner was served at eight.

      Lizzie, as Ethan’s de facto date, was seated with him and the rest of the wedding party at the main table. Everyone made a point to greet her and tell her what a splendid job she’d done on the cake.

      Ethan seemed to have put aside his frustration with her, at least for the evening. It was almost like old times, she thought, like back before she’d ever even hinted that she might be moving on. He joked with her and they shared the knowing glances they used to share all the time.

      She realized she’d missed their friendship lately, during the pitched battle over her right to define her own future. She’d missed the way they laughed at the same things, the way they could look at each other and know what the other was thinking.

      Right after the food was served, she heard Pete Wexler asking Dillon about the mystery man who’d appeared at the back of the church. Dillon said something about a very old and dear friend who was “going through a rough time.” Lizzie noticed the speaking glance Dillon shared with his wife. The look on Erika’s face said she knew exactly what was going on with guy in the black cowboy hat.

      Lizzie waited for Pete to ask more questions.

      But then Claudia, on Pete’s other side, put her hand over Pete’s and whispered in his ear. He turned to his wife. And the subject of the mystery man was forgotten.

      Shortly after the exchange between Dillon and Pete, Ethan leaned close to Lizzie and said for her ears alone, “Help me keep an eye on Jackson, will you?”

      “What’s up with him anyway?” she asked. Jackson looked as though he’d had way too much to drink, even though the evening was just getting started.

      “Basically, he’s decided marriage is a crock,” Ethan told her. “And he’s been wasted pretty much straight through since Thursday night.”

      “Charming,” she muttered, meaning it wasn’t. Jackson had always been something of a bad boy, but tonight he had the look of a man about to cause a ruckus. “I’ll watch him.”

      “Thanks.” Ethan’s voice was velvet soft.

      She looked into his deep, dark eyes and thought how a woman could drown staring in those eyes—well, some women anyway.

      But not Lizzie.

      Uh-uh. She loved Ethan dearly, but as a friend and nothing more.

      Or so she kept telling herself ….

      After the meal, before the toasts and the cutting of the cake, there was music. Corey led Erin out onto the floor in front of the long main table for their first dance as man and wife. Lizzie got a little misty-eyed just watching them; they looked so happy together.