Free Dare Me by Debra Druzy

 
Chapter One
    “Check out my future ex-boyfriend at three o’clock,” Bruno whispered, nudging Misty with an elbow. “Should I go introduce myself?”
    “Huh?” Half-listening, Misty flicked her eyes off her cell phone for a second and shook her head. “I wouldn’t.”
    “You’re right. Let him come to me.”
    “No, I mean I wouldn’t get involved, period.”
    “ Chillax , will ya? You’re no fun.”
    “We’re here to work not mess around.”
    “Hell-ooo, my job is done here. It’s playtime, and I’m feeling frisky,” Bruno purred.
    Humph—it’s nice to know someone has any energy left for romance. Even if she weren’t stressed to the max, when it came to sex, she never mixed business with pleasure, so checking out stud-muffins at the wedding was a professional faux pas.
    Besides, unlike the brawny alpha-gay hairdresser, Misty didn’t have time for ogling anything other than the messages on her cell phone. One-handed, she scrolled through dozens of lengthy texts from panicky brides confirming fitting appointments and a few from her mother at the bridal shoppe checking the status of this big promotional showcase—the Scenic View Inn’s Annual Valentine’s Day Mass Wedding celebration.
    Damn, damn, dammity-damn —twenty-gazillion questions from people looking for answers A-sap . The cell phone has to be the worst invention ever—
    Misty held out her champagne glass for Bruno to refill with the bottle he swiped from the bar.
    “Oh, my gawd.” His baritone sounded like a hoarse teenaged girl coming from the mouth of an overfed cat. “Call nine-one-one—that man is pure sex-on-fire. Viagra-worthy, fer’sher .”
    Viagra-worthy? That snagged her full attention. “Who’re we talking about now?”
    “If you’d get your head outta your cell for a sec.” He jutted his chin. “Him, over there—tall, dark, and to die for.”
    She may not mix romance and work, but champagne and gossip went with everything, and even better together. Now that the brides were outfitted and halfway through the ceremony, Misty was finished here for the day .
    Let the decompression begin .
    Like magic, she made the liquid disappear then asked for another dose while peeking subtly over her shoulder, trying to determine the object of Bruno’s erection.
    It couldn’t be any of the men reciting vows in sync to their brides-to-be, could it? That would be wrong on so many levels for anyone—worse for someone in the wedding business.
    “What’s he wearing?” She grabbed a handful of candy hearts from the cut crystal bowl on the sideboard and, while no one was looking, and without wasting time reading the sweet sentiments, shoved them in her mouth like popcorn during a movie then chased their chalky texture with a sip of champagne.
    “Behind the tripod. The stud in the penguin suit.”
    “You mean the photographer?” She blinked twice to make sure her contacts weren’t smudged. The face was familiar. But the broad frame was wider than she recalled. Then again, he’d been a slim eighteen-year-old kid the last time she’d seen him .
    Poor Bruno. He’d set his sights on an extremely hot, and as far as Misty knew, extremely straight man.
    “You oughta make sure he’s gay first before you fall in ’n outta love,” she cautioned, not wanting to get her friend’s hopes up any higher.
    “Oh, he is all right. Just look at him.”
    Misty was. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. The enigmatic Adam Wright had that knee-weakening effect on her. It was a good thing the wall was at her back and he was across the banquet hall. Although he probably wouldn’t recognize her anyway, she sidestepped behind a rose tree topiary until the burly florist relocated her hiding place.
    “Think he’s a bottom or a top?” Bruno fluffed his Fabio-inspired ponytail.
    “A top,” she affirmed with a nod. “Definitely.”
    When the magistrate announced, “You may kiss the bride,” Misty and Bruno clapped along with the hotel’s event