remember.â
He did up the buttons on the waistcoat. âYou suggested the marriage contract when you were drunk. Youhit on me when you were drunk. Maybe your subconscious was trying to tell you something.â
She scoffed. âYes, stop drinking cocktails. I donât get this sudden desire for matrimony. Didnât you say youâd never get married?â
âNo, I said there was plenty of time.â In the mirror some idiot was standing in jeans, a flannel shirt and a shiny silver-gray waistcoat.
There was a pregnant silence. âAnd you learned otherwise,â she said in a low voice.
âYeah, I learned otherwise.â Dan unbuttoned and took off the vest, his fingers leaving faint traces of cold sweat on the satin back.
As a soldier heâd accepted his mortality. But his matesâ deaths had rammed the lesson home on an emotional level that was hard to bear. âI canât bring Steve and Lee back but I can honor their memory by making sure I live big for all of us.â Live like it matters. âQuit flitting from woman to woman and make my life countâ¦settle down.â He tossed the waistcoat aside, tried on another one in black. âJeez, a moustache and Iâd look like Wyatt Earp in this thing.â
Shrugging it off, he reached for a coathanger and replaced it on the rack. âWhen I packed up my stuff and found that beer mat I got to thinking, itâs not a stupid idea, marrying your best friend. You already know each otherâs faults. And all the boring bits are taken care of.â He grinned. âRespect, commitment, loyalty. Which leaves the fun stuff to work on, like hot sex.â
He looked over at her, his smile fading. âGiven a do-over, Jo, I wouldnât turn you down again.â
âBut you donât get a do-over.â Her face was pale, hergaze steady. âYou said Iâd be relieved you rejected me when I sobered up, and you were right.â She took a deep breath. âIâm sorry about the tragedy overseas, but I want to leave our friendship as it is. And as Iâve already said, I donât want a family anymore.â
He watched the pulse beating fast in her throat. âI donât believe you.â
âIt doesnât matter. Iâm not marrying you.â
Dan picked up the silver waistcoat and rehung it. âYou need some time to get used to the idea,â he said. âHereâs the deal. Iâll organize the wedding, all you have to do is decide whether to show up.â
âOf course Iâm not going to show up!â
âSee, thatâs one of your faultsâsnap judgments,â he said kindly. âTry and keep an open mind. My failing, as you know, is stubbornness. Which sets us up for one hell of an interesting few weeks, doesnât it?â
As she stared at him, speechless, Barry stuck his head around the door. He took silence as safety and came in, holding a take-out coffee.
âAll sorted?â
âNearly,â said Dan. âSo, honey, you werenât serious about our bridesmaids wearing pink, were you?â
âPink!â Barry threw up his hands. âJo, with your red hair?â
His bride finally found her voice. âI am not marrying you!â Cheeks flushed, she advanced on him. âQuit fooling around and tell Baz.â
âUh-huh.â Dan put on a top hat, tilting it as he checked his reflection. âIâm practicing being a husbandâ¦soothing noises, not really listening.â
Jo knocked his top hat off, and with a squawk, Barry scrambled to rescue it.
âYou seriously want to play chicken?â she asked incredulously. âWith me? â
âI was thinking tonight we could start working on the fun stuff.â
She turned on her heel and wrenched open the door.
Dingalingaling.
He went to the doorway, waiting until she was fifty yards down the road. âIf you really werenât interested you