The Wedding Favor by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page A

“In your dreams, monsieur.”
    Ty backpedaled fast. “Hey man, I was just kidding. Go easy with those pins down there, will you?” He mouthed to Isabelle, You didn’t tell me he speaks English.
    She mouthed back, You didn’t ask , and stifled a giggle.
    Isabelle giggled a lot. Which led people who didn’t look past her blond curls, designer-clad curves, and occasional wide-eyed gullibility to mistake her for a scatterbrain. But those who knew her knew she was a force of nature.
    She’d proven it once again by channeling her inner Napoleon to organize every detail of her wedding weekend with the relentless efficiency of a military campaign. As a result, she had nothing left to do on the Wednesday night before the wedding except to entertain, and be entertained by, the man she loved like a brother.
    As usual, he was being a pain in the butt.
    “Kinda tight across the shoulders, isn’t it?” He flexed back and forth.
    “It’s a tux,” she reminded him, “not a T-shirt. Vidal designed it exactly to your measurements. If you’d stop fidgeting, you’d be fine.”
    “But it’s supposed to be comfortable. You promised.”
    “Comfortable for an adult . For a groomsman, not a toddler.”
    He managed to look hurt. She wasn’t buying it. “I refuse to feel sorry for you, Ty. You look like a movie star.”
    Raoul stepped back for a moment to survey his work, and Ty made a break for it, hopping down off the tailoring platform. “You’re right, honey. Looks good, fits fine. Now help me get it off.”
    Resigned, Isabelle slid the jacket off his shoulders and passed it to Raoul. When Ty continued to stand there, looking much too innocent, she folded her arms. “You can manage the rest on your own.”
    Turning her back on him, she caught sight of the cashier, a stacked brunette who’d sidled into the fitting room to ogle the tall, rangy American with the luscious smile. Isabelle pointed to the door. The girl slunk out grudgingly.
    “Why’d you go and do that?” Ty griped.
    “You don’t need an audience to take off your pants.”
    “Maybe I’m practicing to be one of those Chippendales.”
    “Ha. The Chippendales wear tuxes every night.”
    “Yeah, but not for long.” She heard the grin in his voice. “Probably wouldn’t work out though. That G-string looks painful.”
    “How would you know?” She rolled her eyes again. “Did Oprah have the Chippendales on her show?”
    “Maybe she did.”
    He stepped around in front of her, jeans in place, and she had to admit they looked almost as good as the tux. All male, all Texan, Ty could sell stock in faded Levi’s.
    He grabbed his T-shirt off a hook, and while he tugged it over his head she allowed herself one long last look at the shoulders, the chest, the rippling abs that she’d never handle again. Then she put them out of her mind.
    “Hungry?”
    “As a grizzly.”
    Out on the sidewalk, he draped his arm over her shoulders, she wound hers around his waist, and they meandered through the bustling streets, finding their way to the Seine, then out onto the Pont Royal, pausing in the center of the bridge to lean on the wide stone rail and drink in the view. Twilight had given way to night. City lights glittered off the water.
    Ty drew a deep breath. “I do love Paris in the summertime.” He looked over at her. “You miss living here?”
    She turned in a slow circle, soaking it up; the ribbon of river curving into the distance, traversed by a dozen bridges, the Parisians hustling home with baguettes under their arms or walking arm-in-arm toward the lights of Left Bank cafés, the Eiffel Tower spearing the darkened sky.
    “Sometimes I forget how beautiful it is. There’s nothing like this in Manhattan.” She sighed. “Ah well. Once I’m married, I’ll officially be a New Yorker.”
    He grinned. “You don’t sound like a New Yawker . Still got that sexy-French-girl thing goin’ on.”
    She elbowed him lightly. Then checked her watch. “It’s