Jaine Austen 7 - Killing Bridezilla by Laura Levine Read Free Book Online Page A

here, why not go through with it? After all, what did I have to lose—
    other than my appetite?
    “Actually, I need somebody to be my fiancé at a wedding.”
    “Oh. I get it,” he said with a most appalling wink. “You’re the bride. He’s the groom. A little game of Honeymoon Hotel, huh?”
    “No, that’s not it. I want somebody to pretend to be my fiancé at a real wedding.”
    “No hanky-panky?”
    “No hanky-panky.”
    “Well, that’s a new one,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “When you see the guys I’ve got on file, maybe you’ll change your mind. Scandinavian Studs. Latin Lovers. Denzel Washington look-alikes. I got ’em all. Here, let me show you.”
    He hustled over to a battered file cabinet and pulled out some files.

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    Laura Levine
    “Gorgeous, huh?” he said, handing me an 8 x 10 glossy of one of his escorts.
    Rocky did not lie. The guy was gorgeous.
    Forty years ago when the faded picture had no doubt been taken. By now he was probably showing up for dates on a walker.
    “Or how about Alonzo?” he said, flashing another photo in front of me. “Ignore those numbers on the bottom. I’m just using his mug shot until his professional photos are ready.”
    “Actually, Rocky, I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”
    “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. Of course it is. All the top movie stars come to Miss Emily when they want a date. Cameron. Julia. Angelina. And politicians, too. You ever hear of Maggie Thatcher?”
    “The ex-prime minister of Great Britain?”
    He nodded solemnly. “I can’t say any more.
    I’ve signed a secrecy agreement. Let’s just say that Maggie was one hot crumpet!”
    Okay, this had been a mistake. Major mistake.
    I’d just tell Patti the truth, that I was single and manless and quite happy, thank you very much, to be living alone and single with my cat.
    And I was just about to do so when the door opened and in walked Francois.
    Actually, his name turned out to be Brad, but I swear, he was a neurosurgeon fiancé straight out of central casting. Tall and slim, with a mane of thick black hair and the chiseled cheekbones of a runway model. True, he wasn’t the kind of guy I’d fall for in real life. In real life, I tend to go for sweet and vulnerable as opposed to drop-dead gorgeous. But this wasn’t real life. This was a lie I was living. Of monumental proportions. I might as well go for broke and show up at the KILLING BRIDEZILLA
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    wedding with a stunner. Patti and Denise would swoon in their size 2s when they saw him.
    “I’ll take that one,” I blurted out, like I was choosing a cookie at Mrs. Fields. “How much?”
    “Oh, Brad.” Rocky’s smile got a whole lot oilier.
    “He’s top of the line. He’s three hundred.”
    “Three hundred dollars?” I gulped. That was about $250 more than I’d planned to spend.
    “An hour,” he added. “First hour in advance.”
    Aw, what the heck? This guy looked like he was worth it. I could do it under an hour. I’d have him meet me at the wedding, introduce him to Patti, and then make some excuse about why we had to leave.
    I turned to Brad.
    “Do you think you could pass yourself off as a doctor?”
    “Of course,” he said, beaming me a most winning smile. “I’m an actor.”
    Thank heavens this was Los Angeles, where nine out of ten beautiful people are actors!
    I asked him a few questions about himself and he seemed to be able to string together a complete sentence with ease. In fact, he was a lot more articulate than most doctors I’d been to.
    “So how about it, sweetheart?” Rocky grinned.
    “Do we have ourselves a deal?”
    I got out my checkbook and started writing.
    On my way home I stopped off at The Cookerie, a nose-bleed expensive kitchen supply store in Beverly Hills, to pick up a wedding gift for Patti. I chose the least expensive gift on her registry—a $90 corkscrew. Can you believe there 52
    Laura Levine
    are people in this world who spend ninety bucks for a