âTHEYâRE never going to believe us.â Taking Aidenâs hand, Tabitha stepped out of the car, her mouth literally dropping open as she watched the guests milling on the steps of the grand old Melbourne church like a parade of shimmering peacocks.
âWhy ever not?â Aiden didnât look remotely fazed, waving cheerfully to a couple of familiar faces in the crowd.
âTheyâre never going to believe us,â Tabitha repeated, after taking a deep steadying breath, âbecause I donât look like a society wife.â
âThank God,â Aiden muttered. âAnyway, youâre not a society wife; youâre merely pretending to be my girlfriend. So if itâs any consolation, youâre allowed to have sex appeal. Theyâll think youâre my last wild fling before I finally settle down.â
âTheyâll see through it straight away,â Tabitha argued, refusing to believe it could all be so simple. âIâm a dancer, Aiden, not an actress. Why on earth did I agree to this?â
âYou had no choice,â Aiden reminded her, before she could bolt back into the car. They started to walk, albeit slowly, towards the gathering throng. âI played the part of your devoted fiancé at your school reunion in return for you accompanying me to my cousinâs wedding. Simple.â
âNo,â Tabitha said, pulling Aidenâs hand so he had to slow down. âSimple would be telling your family that youâre gay. Itâs the twenty-first century, for heavenâs sake; itâs not a crime any more!â
âTry telling that to my father. Honestly, Tabitha, itâs better this way, and donât worry for a second about not looking the partâyou look fabulous.â
âCourtesy of your credit card,â Tabitha scolded. âYou shouldnât have spent all that money, Aiden.â
âCheap at half the price; anyway, I wouldnât dream of throwing you into the snake pit that is my family without a designer frock and shoes. Oh, come on, Tabitha, enjoy yourself. You love a good wedding!â
After slipping into the pew and idly scanning the Order of Service, Tabitha let her jade eyes work the congregation, and though it galled her to admit it she had never been more grateful for the small fortune that had been spent on her outfit. What had seemed appropriate for the multitude of weddings she had attended this year definitely wouldnât have done today.
Her dress had been a true find, the flimsy chiffon fabric a near perfect match for her Titian hair, which she wore today pinned back from her face but cascading around her shoulders. Her lips and nails were painted a vibrant coral that matched her impossibly high strappy sandals and beaded bag perfectly, and Tabitha felt a million dollars. It was a colour scheme Tabitha would normally never even have considered, with her long red curls and pale skin, yet for once the gushing sales assistant hadnât been lying: it all went beautifully.
The guests that packed the church seemed to ooze money and styleâfor the most part, at least. But there were more than a couple of garish fashion mistakes to giggle over that even Tabitha recognisedâborn, she assumed, from a bottomless wallet and an utter disregard for taste. Aiden took great delight in pointing out each and every one, rather too loudly.
An incredibly tall woman with the widest hat imaginable chose to sit directly in front of Tabitha, which ruined any hope of a decent view of the proceedings. But even with Aidenâs and Tabithaâs combined critical eyes there wasnât even a hint of a fashion faux pas in sight on this ravishing creature. Height obviously didnât bother this woman either, judging by the razor-sharp stilettos strapped to her slender feet. Oh, well, Tabitha shrugged, it must be nice to have so much confidence.
Only when the woman turned to watch the bridal procession did Tabitha start with recognition. Amy Dellier was one of the top models in Australia, and, judging by the extremely favourable write-ups in all the glossies Tabitha devotedly devoured, she was all set for international fame. Suddenly the golden chiffon and coral which she had been so pleased with only a few moments ago seemed a rather paltry offering, standing so close to this stunning woman.
As the organ thundered into the âBridal Marchâ they all stood, every eye turning as the bride entered and started her slow walk down the aisle. Every eye, that was, except Tabithaâs. She had seen more brides this summer than a wedding photographer. Instead, some morbid fascination found her gaze constantly straying to Amy Dellier. She truly was beautifulâstunningly so. Not a line or blemish marred her perfect complexion, and her make-up highlighted the vivid aquamarine of her eyes.
âExcuse me.â A deep voice dragged her back to the proceedings. âI need to get past.â