Power Play. Nancy Warren

be friends with my cousin who’s getting married.” Carefully re-screwing the lid on the polish, she blew on her fingertips. “She saw me in the lovely outfit I was wearing, buying fashion at Wal-Mart and couldn’t keep the story to herself. At the lunch today? My dad offered me a business loan, my mom said she could help me with the cost of the bridesmaid gown and my aunt tells me she’s going to set me up with my third cousin Buddy, the orthodontist.”

      “Why didn’t you tell the nosy broad about the bedbugs?”

      “I am staying in this hotel in order to avoid being billeted in a family room somewhere, either on a pullout couch or an air mattress. My family does big weddings, so I wouldn’t have the family room to myself, you understand. It would be like a weeklong slumber party on really bad mattresses with people I barely know.”

      “So you chose me, instead.”

      “You wouldn’t be so flattered if you knew my family.” She blew out a breath. “I’m sure there will be people checking out tomorrow and I’ll get another room. Once I’m in that family room? I’m stuck for the week.”

      “What kind of business do you have?”

      “I’m a massage therapist. I run a wellness clinic. We have naturopaths, a chiropractor, a nutritionist and a practitioner of traditional Chinese medicine all on staff. We work as an integrated team.”

      “Cool,” he said, though from his tone she guessed he wasn’t a big believer in alternative medicine.

      “I enjoy it.”

      “And, I’m guessing from the fact that they want to set you up with Cousin Buddy the orthodontist, that you’re single?”

      “And loving it,” she informed him. After a day of pity for her spinster state, she was feeling militant.

      He put up his hands, so fast she heard the beer slosh in the can. “Hey, I’m single, too. I get it.”

      She looked at him curiously. Did the same unsubtle hints happen with men, too? “Do your family try to match you up with someone every chance they get?”

      He sipped beer while thinking it over. Nodded. “My friends more. I’m the last one of my buddies still a free man. They see me as a challenge, but I aim to stay single.”

      She raised her beer can in a toast. “To freedom.”

      The both drank. “You want to watch some TV?”

      “Sure.” Anything that would take her mind off the week ahead would be good.

      While she applied a second coat of polish, he found the remote and punched channels. She heard him skip over some kind of cop show, make a rude remark about Dancing with the Stars, and then she heard the buzz of a news station. That she could live with. She was moving to her bed so she could see the TV when there was a knock on the door.

      “Now what?”

      “Do you mind?” She was closer to the door, but her polish was wet. “Maybe they’ve found another room.”

      He rolled off the bed and padded to the door.

      Opened it.

      “Did you order an orange tent?” he asked, staring in some disbelief at the dress hanging from a chambermaid’s hand.

      “My dress,” she cried, getting up. “Is it okay?” she asked the woman.

      “Yes. We hung it in the big freezer. It’s what the exterminators told us to do. Anything that was on there will be dead by now.”

      “Too bad that dress isn’t,” said Jonah.

      THERE WERE SO MANY PEOPLE in town for the wedding that the potluck dinner that night was held in the Masonic Hall, where the wedding reception was also booked. Emily knew that in the next couple of days she’d spend many hours helping decorate the gymnasium-size space into what her aunt Irene insisted on calling the bower of bliss.

      As an out-of-towner, Emily wasn’t expected to bring food, but she stopped at the deli anyhow and picked up a tub of potato salad. She’d have taken wine, but Uncle Bill had told her proudly he’d made enough for the entire week. Uncle Bill was a good man and one of her favorite relatives, but she’d rather use his wine as nail polish remover than drink the stuff.

      As she walked in, her aunt rushed up to her. “Oh, Emily, I’m so glad you’re here. Cousin Buddy is dying to meet you.” She took the offered potato salad and dropped her voice, explaining, “He’s the one I was telling you about. Very successful. An orthodontist.”

      She made flappy come-here motions with her hand to a guy standing with Emily’s mom and dad. Her folks immediately shooed him her way, acting in unison, so they looked like a vaudeville act. Yep, Emily thought, my family haven’t lost any of their subtlety.

      She hadn’t had high hopes of an orthodondist in his thirties who went by the name Buddy, and she wasn’t disappointed. Her third cousin sauntered over looking at her with an expression that said, “Ta-da, it’s your lucky day.” He was of medium height with wispy blond hair and round, steel-rimmed spectacles, behind which pale blue eyes took in the world with a self-satisfied air.

      “Emily, this is Cousin Buddy.” Honestly, the way she said it, Emily could hear the unspoken, she’s single, too!

      “Hello,” she said, extending her hand at the same time Buddy leaned in for a kiss. She turned her head so his lips landed on her cheek, leaving a wet print that felt as if a dog had licked her face.

      “Well, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” Aunt Irene said and scuttled off, sending her mom and dad a double thumbs-up.

      Buddy was probably a perfectly nice guy, she told herself, and he was family. So, she put a pleasant smile on her face, pretended not to notice that her nearest and dearest were watching her and Cousin Buddy as though they were acting out the season-ending cliff-hanger of a particularly juicy and addictive soap opera. “I haven’t seen you at any family weddings before,” she said for something to say.

      “No. I’ve always been too occupied with my practice and busy social life. But a man gets to a certain stage in life where he starts to appreciate the importance of family. And I had a couple of weeks with nothing to do so I thought I’d hang out and see folks I haven’t seen since I was a kid.”

      “That’s nice.” But did he have to stand in her personal space?

      “Who wants wine?” Uncle Bill strolled up with a tray of filled glasses. “The white’s a chardonnay and the red’s an infidel.”

      “Thanks,” Buddy said, reaching for a glass of red.

      “Maybe later,” she told Uncle Bill.

      Buddy took a sip of wine and when his eyes didn’t water she said, “I think he meant Zinfandel, but I wouldn’t be too sure. Uncle Bill’s wine is pretty strong.”

      Buddy sent her a lecherous glance. “I like my booze like I like my women. Strong and tasty.”

      Oh, boy.

      “Leanne,” she called desperately to the woman walking by. “How’s the bride?”

      “Hey, Em. Oh, good, you met Buddy. Come sit with us.”

      “Great.” So she followed her cousin to one of the long tables and Buddy followed.

      Leanne was probably her favorite cousin, apart from her taste in bridesmaid dresses, and she seemed to have found the perfect man for her. Derek was an accounting major she’d met in college, obviously crazy about his soon-to-be wife, and the kind of man you could call on when you got a flat tire in the middle of the night. They were planning to put down roots in Elk Crossing, where Leanne already had a job teaching kindergarten.

      Their table was made up mostly of the bridal party and their friends, so it was a young bunch, getting raucous as they chugged down Uncle Bill’s wine. Emily, from bitter experience,