The Best Man for the Job. Lucy King

turn, then laugh at something Dan said, and his eyes narrowed. Ten minutes in her company and already he was wound up like a spring. He wanted to punch something. Wrestle someone. Anything to relieve the tension that she never failed to whip up inside him.

      Standing there in the warm summer sunshine while people streamed out of the church, he shoved his hands in his pockets and resisted the urge to grind his teeth because this was supposed to be a happy day and the last thing anyone wanted to see was a grim-faced best man.

      But it was hard to relax when all he could think was, how the hell did Celia do it? And why?

      Generally he had no trouble getting on with the opposite sex. Generally women fell over themselves for his attention and once they’d got it went out of their way to be charming. But she, well, for some reason she’d had it in for him for years and he’d never really been able to work it out.

      On the odd occasion he’d pondered the anomaly, usually after one of their thankfully rare yet surprisingly irritating encounters, he’d figured that it seemed to boil down to the number and frequency of women that flitted in and out of his life, but he didn’t see why that should bother her. The last time he checked it was the twenty-first century, and where he came from men and women could sleep with whomever they liked without censorship.

      And so what if he enjoyed the company of women? he thought darkly, watching her peel away to take a phone call. He worked hard and he played hard. He was single and in his prime and he liked sex. He never promised more than he was willing to give and when relationships, flings, one-night stands ended there were never any hard feelings. The women he dated didn’t appear to object, so who could blame him for taking advantage of the opportunities on offer?

      Well, Celia could, it seemed, but why did she disapprove of him so much? Why did she care? What he got up to was none of her business. As far as he was aware he’d never hooked up with any of her friends so she couldn’t have a grudge about that. And it certainly wasn’t as if she were jealous. She’d made it very clear she didn’t want to have anything to do with him the night he’d made a pass at her years ago and had been very firmly rebuffed.

      So what was her problem? And more to the point, what was his? What was it about her that got under his skin? Why couldn’t he just ignore her the way he ignored everything he didn’t need to be bothered with? Why, with her, did he always feel the urge to respond and retaliate?

      Marcus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as the questions rattled round his head, and thought that he could really do with a glass of champagne if he stood any chance of making it through the reception.

      ‘Is there any particular reason you’re scowling at my sister?’

      At the dry voice of the groom and his best friend, who’d evidently managed to drag himself away from his new wife and had stealthily materialised beside him, Marcus pulled himself together.

      ‘Nope,’ he said, snapping his gaze away from Celia and switching the scowl for his customary couldn’t-give-a-toss-about-anything smile.

      ‘Sure?’

      He nodded and widened his smile because there was no way on earth he was going to let Dan in on the trouble he had with Celia. ‘Quite sure. Congratulations, by the way.’

      Dan grinned. ‘Thanks.’

      ‘Great ceremony.’

      ‘The best. And thanks for being my best man.’

      ‘No problem. I’m glad I made it in time.’ He’d bust a gut over the past couple of days to get here—and whatever Celia thought it had had nothing to do with over-clingy lovers—and he might be knackered, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way because he and Dan had been good friends for nearly twenty years.

      ‘So am I,’ said Dan, and then he asked, ‘So why the thunderous expression? What’s up?’

      Marcus shrugged. ‘Just trying to remember my speech.’

      Dan shot him a knowing look that held more than a hint of amusement. ‘Sure you aren’t ruminating about the lack of single women here?’

      Oddly enough—when it was generally the first thing he ascertained at any kind of social gathering—searching for likely conquests this afternoon hadn’t crossed his mind. ‘Maybe a bit,’ he said, largely because Dan seemed to be expecting it.

      ‘Sorry about that, but we wanted to keep the wedding small.’

      ‘No problem.’

      ‘Has it been a while, then?’

      ‘Six months.’

      Dan’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Wow. Because of...what was her name again?’

      ‘Noelle.’ As the memory of his last girlfriend, who’d turned into a complete psycho stalker, flashed into his head he shuddered. ‘And yes.’

      Dan grunted in sympathy. ‘I can see how after everything she did you’d be a bit wary, but, come on, six months? That must be a record.’

      ‘Not one I’ll be boasting about.’

      ‘No,’ agreed Dan. ‘Why would you?’

      ‘Quite.’

      ‘And not one you’ll be breaking today, I should think,’ Dan mused.

      ‘What makes you say that?’

      ‘Celia’s the only single woman here.’

      ‘Is she?’

      ‘And judging by the way you were looking at her just now I’m guessing she’s not a likely target.’

      Marcus inwardly recoiled. Celia? A target? As if. He couldn’t stand her. And as she could stand him even less, even if he were insane/deluded/drunk enough to make a pass at her again, which he most certainly was not, in all likelihood he’d get a knee to the groin.

      ‘Didn’t we just clear that up?’ he muttered, really not wanting to dwell on that particular outcome.

      ‘Not very satisfactorily.’ Dan rubbed a hand along his jaw and frowned, as if in contemplation. ‘You know, Zoe mentioned she thinks you do it a lot.’

      ‘Do what?’

      ‘Scowl at Celia.’

      ‘Do I?’

      Dan nodded. ‘Pretty much every time you come into contact, apparently.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘So what’s with the two of you? Why the friction? What did she do to you?’

      Interesting that Dan thought it would be that way round when everyone else would have automatically assumed he’d be the one to blame. ‘She didn’t do anything to me,’ he said with a casual shrug. Apart from reject him. Resist him. Ignore him. Avoid him. And drive him bonkers by getting to him when he’d never had any trouble not letting her get to him before. ‘We just don’t get along. That’s all. Sorry.’

      ‘No. Well, she is something of an acquired taste, I’ll grant you.’

      One that he’d briefly acquired when he’d been an angry and out-of-control teenager but wouldn’t be acquiring again, so he hmmed non-committally and sought to change the subject. ‘Zoe looks radiant,’ he said, watching the bride smiling and chatting, happiness shimmering all around her like some kind of corona.

      ‘She does,’ said Dan with the kind of pride in his voice Marcus couldn’t ever imagine feeling, which was just as well because marriage was not for him. ‘She also has a different take on it.’

      ‘A different take on what?’

      ‘You and Celia.’

      Marcus frowned. So much for changing the subject. And what was Dan doing, making it sound as if he and Celia were a thing when they were anything but? ‘Does she?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Right.’