Best Man...with Benefits. Nancy Warren

she said to herself, circulate, make more small talk, and then I can go to bed. She’d been up way too late working, and then Amy had called her way too early this morning to remind her to bring a bathing suit. “Because we are going to hit the spa.”

      Lauren had no idea when they were going to squeeze in time at the spa, but she’d thrown her bathing suit in her suitcase anyway and, giving up on any more sleep, padded to her tiny kitchen to brew coffee.

      The short night and long day were catching up with her now. One of the perks of her position of maid of honor was that Amy’s parents had insisted on paying for her room. She had a lovely room on the third floor overlooking the ocean. It was dominated by a big, decadent bed, where she could sleep as long as she wanted.

      Hotel Messina was the kind of hotel that contained a sprung dance floor at one end of the ballroom and a stage large enough for a big band. In its heyday the hotel had boasted its own band and the rich and famous had waltzed and fox-trotted many a night away here. The French doors were all open to the breeze when the orchestra struck up, and the MC called out the wedding couple for their first dance.

      “Hope I don’t fall off my heels,” Amy said as she walked behind Lauren and giggled.

      “You’ll be fine,” she whispered back.

      Maybe it was corny and sentimental, but she had a moment, watching her best friend dance with her brand-new husband. They held each other briefly and then began to move with the music they’d chosen. She’d tried to talk Amy out of it, but ever since she’d seen Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio on the prow of the Titanic she’d been determined that “My Heart Will Go On” would be her wedding song. Lauren had assumed she’d grow out of that idea, but no. And yet, as she watched her best friend in the arms of her new husband, waltzing to Celine Dion, she felt a real hope that they’d be this happy forever.

      “And now, would the parents join Mr. and Mrs. Beauregard, please. And the maid of honor and the best man,” the rich voice said into the mic.

      Oh, crap. This was the part she’d dreaded.

      Jackson looked as thrilled as she was as he led the way to the dance floor. They didn’t touch until they were pretty much forced to.

      He put a hand on her waist.

      She put a hand on his shoulder.

      He took her other hand. “Ready?”

      “I’ll fantasize I’m having electric-shock therapy. The time will pass.”

      He moved her in a circle. “I’ll pretend I’m having a last cigarette before the firing squad. I’ll enjoy it.”

      “You smoke?” Gross.

      “No. But I think if I knew my life was going to end in a couple of minutes anyway, I might take it up.” He twirled her around Seth’s parents. “I’d ask for a king-size cigarette. No filter.”

      She watched Amy and Seth, holding each other so close he kept stepping on her dress. “Think they’ll make it?” she asked.

      She felt him shrug as his shoulder rose up and down under her hand. “They’ve got a fifty-fifty chance, statistically.”

      * * *

      ACROSS THE ROOM, a table of men who’d all gone to boarding school with Seth and Jackson were making full use of the open bar. They’d moved on from the dinner wine and were now doing shooters.

      “Would you do her?” Willy Ragan asked in a general way, his gaze semi-focused on the dance floor.

      “Amy?” Rip Sherken asked.

      “No. She’s married, asshole. The other one.”

      “The bridesmaid?”

      “Yeah.”

      They all studied Lauren.

      “She’s hot.” Rip burped politely behind his hand. “Bet she goes for Jackson. They always go for Jackson.”

      “Not her. Haven’t you noticed? She hates him. Look at them. Acting like a couple of brooms dancing.”

      Rip snorted. “The chicks are always all over Jackson. And he gets stuck with the one woman who thinks he’s dog meat. Excellent.”

      And between that shooter and the next, Willy came up with a plan that was way funnier than their original idea to TP the bridal suite.

      Willy outlined his plan rapidly while all his buddies concentrated on the details.

      “How you gonna get her room key?” Rip wanted to know.

      “It’s probably in her purse, which she left on her seat,” Willy said. “I saw her leave. Her room’s just down from mine, so I know which one it is.”

      Tricking the maid of honor and the best man, who hated each other, into sharing the same hotel room was, they agreed, way better than their original plan. Though, if there was time for both, they still planned to toilet paper the suite.

      “We better get her key now, while they’re all dancing,” Willy said.

      He got up and found Lauren’s clutch purse on her chair as he’d expected. The clasp took his thick fingers a second to work out, but he soon had it open. There was nothing in there but a couple of tissues, some lipstick and her room key.

      He pocketed the room key and then, while he was standing, realized he needed to pee. He veered off to take care of business while he mentally perfected the details of the plan. They weren’t too complicated. Mostly, the plan involved getting Jackson drunk.

      * * *

      LAUREN ENDED UP having a lot more fun at the reception than she thought she would. A couple of single guys hit on her, as did one older, very drunk, and very married friend of Amy’s father. She laughed with Amy and her girlfriends and, when Amy threw the bouquet, made certain to stand way out of the line of fire.

      Then Amy and Seth headed off up the bridal suite and her duties were over.

      Still, she hung around for another half an hour or so before slipping away. That luxurious room with the huge bed and the balcony looking out to the sea beckoned her.

      Her supposed escort, the best man, had abandoned his tuxedo jacket a while ago and sat hunched around a table with the rest of the frat boys where the booze was flowing. A couple of women had drifted over, and she suspected there’d be some pairing up when the night finally ended. Cynthia was sitting next to Jackson, she noted, hanging on every word he said. Pathetic.

      She found her clutch, which had somehow fallen to the floor, and slipped out of the emptying ballroom. Before she got to the elevator, she dug in her purse for her key card, but it wasn’t there.

      Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she went to the front desk, where they gave her another.

      With a sleepy thanks, she headed up to bed.

      When she entered her luxurious hotel room, she threw open the balcony doors and watched the ocean for a few minutes. The moon gilded the waves and the sand stretched endlessly in either direction. A couple, guests of the hotel, probably, walked on the beach. They seemed happily in love. Good for them, she thought, as she went back inside and brushed her teeth. She donned the pretty nightgown she’d brought with her and stretched out in the huge, decadent bed.

      She imagined Amy and Seth were right this moment enjoying married sex up in the bridal suite, and that was her last thought before she fell into exhausted sleep.

      * * *

      JACKSON PULLED OFF his tie and settled around the table with his buddies. He’d done his part, made a speech, danced with the ice queen herself, and now he could simply hang out. He passed on the shooters, but he accepted a scotch. He felt he’d earned it.

      That went down so smoothly he drank another.

      He went way back with these guys. They were part of the gang that Seth had introduced