Free His 1-800 Wife by Shirley Hailstock Page B

Her plan was good, but she should have insisted they elope. A wedding with white gown and orange blossoms was the stuff of couples truly in love. She and Jarrod only needed a justice of the peace. The gown was too much. She couldn't marry him in a gown, walk down that aisle, stand up in front of all their friends and swear to love, honor and cherish.
    She just couldn't do it.
    "Catherine?" Audrey called her name again. Cath­erine didn't answer. She tore at the sleeves to get out of the dress, uncaring of the delicacy of the fabric. Audrey looked at the clerk. "She's just nervous," Audrey explained.
    "I'll get her something to drink," the clerk said, leaving them.
    "Catherine, are you all right?" Audrey asked as soon as the woman left.
    "I'm fine. I just didn't know I'd feel like this."
    Audrey smiled. "That's all right, Catherine. All brides feel like this the first time they see themselves in a wedding gown. Suddenly they understand what everything is all about."
    No, they don't, she wanted to shout. If Catherine told her sister what was really going on, Audrey would be appalled that Catherine even thought of a fake engage­ment, let alone a wedding.
    And after the wedding—what then? She was going to live with Jarrod. They were friends, but not lovers. Not yet! Her mouth opened in surprise. Where had that come from? Stop it, Catherine. She shook herself mentally. She knew where it came from. It came from the kiss she and Jarrod had shared. While he kissed her, she didn't want him to stop. She wanted him to go on and she wanted more. She wanted him to make love to her. Jarrod, of all people. She hadn't seen him in years, and when he had been in Newport, he was always playing some joke on her or embarrassing her. Yet her mind was full of him. He was the only man she thought of when she thought of marriage. But this wasn't a marriage, she screamed silently. This was an arrangement for six months. Only six months.
    Catherine reached down to pick up the dress and hand it to her sister. She stopped in mid-reach. Sup­pose Jarrod played another joke on her. Suppose he didn't show up for the ceremony?
    A fresh batch of tears rushed to her eyes. She couldn't stop them. What was wrong with her? Cather­ine grabbed her jeans and shirt and quickly pulled them on. The clerk brought her a bottle of water and a glass. Catherine pulled the top off and drank from the bottle, tipping it up and draining the contents.
    "Audrey, I have to go."
    "But. . ."
    "I know we agreed to do some shopping." Cather­ine couldn't remember what they were supposed to shop for—place settings, silverware, bed sheets, she didn't care. "I need to see Jarrod. We have to talk."
    She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder.
    Audrey stopped her exit. "There isn't anything wrong, is there?" Catherine's expression must have said something, for Audrey continued. "Most brides get nervous, Catherine. You and Jarrod didn't have a fight, did you? Dwayne and I fought over everything: the silver, the tuxedos, the number of bridesmaids and groomsmen. You name it, we fought over it."
    "We didn't have a fight." Catherine pushed past her sister.
    If only it had been a fight, she thought, pulling the door of her car open a moment later and getting inside. Fights were easy. She wouldn't have these feel­ings if they'd had a fight. What they had was a kiss, a devastating kiss, a wedding kiss, a forever kiss. Cath­erine didn't want that. She was getting married to get divorced. So why did she have a daytime dream? Why did she see herself in that dress with Jarrod waiting for her? Why did his expression say happily ever after?
    Catherine put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space. She drove to Jarrod's office. He would be there now. She pulled her car into the spot next to his Jeep. Something wouldn't let her get out. She couldn't see Jarrod right now. Her emotions were too close to the surface. If he looked at her the way he had before he kissed her, she'd