The Stand-In (17 page)

Winn tried hard not to think evil thoughts, but she understood why he avoided the rest of the Lincoln clan. She’d only met a couple of family members so far, and hadn’t exactly forged bonds with any of them. Perhaps because they’d been too busy giving her snotty once-overs. Sierra, who made an art out of being obnoxious, was the only one who’d deigned to speak with her for more than five minutes.

She’d met his older brothers Andrew and Daniel and had wanted to like them on the spot. Both were tall and handsome like Patrick, but possessed none of his easy charm. Both surgeons of some sort, they’d hung around long enough to mentally tabulate her worth and then had scattered. Clearly, she hadn’t fit the bill.

When they’d departed, Patrick had stared after them, his dark eyes even darker and shadowed with resentment.

Sierra sipped her cocktail, looked over at the hors d’oeuvre table and squealed. “Ohmigod! They haven’t put out the smoked-salmon bites yet. I’m going to flay someone. Excuse me.” She picked up the skirt of her Alexander McQueen bridal gown and raced into the kitchen area.

Winn looked at Patrick. “She’s, um, very passionate.”

“She’s a stuck-up princess who finds drama in smoked-salmon bites. I wish Conrad luck. He’ll need it.” He threw back a swallow of his Coke. “It’s a nice night and I’m already tired of this reception. I need some air. Let’s go check out the balcony.”

He put a hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the balcony adjoining the reception hall, the one overlooking the expansive golf green. Once outside, he turned and shut the curtained, glass doors, effectively giving them some private space. They both put their drinks down on a marble bench and leaned on the stone ledge.

She had to admit the country club setting made for a lovely backdrop to a fairy-tale wedding. Despite not bonding with the bride on any level, she could appreciate the beauty of the surroundings. The smell of cut grass, one of her favorite summertime fragrances, made her smile. It reminded her of running barefoot at the local park when she and Enid were kids, their happy parents in tow.

Had her parents been truly happy then? She supposed she didn’t know. Perhaps they’d been hiding years of hurt and she just hadn’t seen it.

Dismissing thoughts of her quarreling parents, she gazed toward the lawns and maple trees, admiring the meticulous pruning. As the sun set, another sort of beauty demanded her attention. Winn allowed herself to sneak glances at Patrick’s profile. The angle of his clenched jaw made her want to run a hand up and down his back, but she curled her fingers into her palms so she wouldn’t be tempted to touch him. His handsome features spoke to her in a way she barely understood. His strong brow, the way his hair waved over his ears, and the flash of his dark eyes made her dream. But it wasn’t just his looks. His love of life, his easy smile and fun-loving nature kept her up at night, wondering and dreaming. Wanting what she shouldn’t want.

Yet here, among his family, the people to whom he should be closest, he looked miserable. If only she could fix it. “Are you okay?”

He turned to her and his gaze followed the sweep of her long bangs. After a moment, he grinned. “Aren’t I always?”

“I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell when we’re out here hiding from your family.”

“I’m not hiding, I’m avoiding. There’s a huge difference.”

“Noted, but we can’t avoid them all night. The reception just started and, well, I’m excited to try the smoked salmon.” She elbowed him in jest.

He frowned and shook his head. “Of course you are. I’m not a very good date, am I?”

“Oh, you’ll do. You’re taller than I am, which makes for good dancing dynamics, and you bring me drinks at regular intervals. Oh, and you’re tolerable in your tux.”

He stepped closer, a little too close for her comfort. “Just tolerable? I tried really hard tonight. Showered and everything.” His gaze dropped to her lips.

“Well,” she replied, clearing her throat. “I suppose you look
good
in the tux. Does that appease your ego?”

He ran a finger over her bare shoulder and down her arm. Her skin flushed with goose pimples at his touch. Already too deep for her peace of mind, his voice grew husky with desire. “Winn, I’m nowhere near being appeased.”

He leaned in. He was going to kiss her again, and she already knew she’d allow it. God help her, she’d kiss him back with everything in her. Lips, tongue, teeth, foolish heart.

Before they could make contact, the balcony door opened and a man walked through. Looking like a gray-haired version of Patrick, he could only be his father. The elder Lincoln looked at his son, glanced at Winn, and proffered a wide smile.

“Patrick, you haven’t introduced me to your lovely friend yet.”

Winn stepped closer to Patrick. Something in the way Mr. Lincoln said “lovely” made her feel dirty. Perhaps it was because his gaze lingered a little too long near her bosom. She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she hadn’t worn a gown that displayed cleavage.

“Dad, this is Winn Busby. Winn, my father, Dr. Andrew Lincoln, Sr.” He recited the words as if the title had been ingrained in him years ago.

She couldn’t help wondering if Patrick and his brothers were forced to call their dad Dr. Lincoln during casual conversations as well.

Patrick seemed to notice his father’s wandering gaze because he promptly removed his tux jacket and placed it around her shoulders, as if worried she’d grown cold. Even though the night was balmy, she welcomed the protective layer.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear.” Dr. Lincoln stuck out his hand and she extended her own. As he shook it, his thumb wandered over her hand in a lazy caress.

She pulled her hand away, smiled, and pretended to adjust her hair.

He narrowed his eyes, peering at her, but then turned to his son. “You haven’t said hello to your mother yet.”

“Last I saw her,” Patrick replied, “she was holding court among her cronies. I’m sure she hasn’t missed me.”

“She’ll want to meet your friend, Lynn.”

“It’s Winn, dad. Winn.” He drew closer to her and she was glad to have him near. He eased the prickles of unease between her shoulder blades.

“Unusual name,” Dr. Lincoln commented, looking at her boobs again.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Short for Winifred. I was named after a great-aunt.” She turned to Patrick and raised a finger. “Don’t say a word.”

He smiled. “Who me?”

“Come inside, you two.” Dr. Lincoln helped her out of Patrick’s jacket and handed the garment to his son. He then put an arm around her shoulders and steered her back into the reception hall. Patrick followed behind them and she felt his gaze burning into her back. As they moved, his father’s hand strayed to her lower back. “You must meet my wife, Bette. She’ll be delighted to make your acquaintance.”

Patrick slipped his hand around her shoulders and extricated her from his father. “Awesome. How about I do the introductions instead?”

Before Dr. Lincoln could touch her again, he led her to a small group of older women. The tallest in the bunch, a brunette in a tastefully sequined gown, dominated the area, her gaze seeming to see everything. She spied Patrick and smiled. As soon as she saw his arm draped around Winn’s shoulders, her smile disappeared.

Patrick leaned in toward the woman and kissed her cheek. “Mother. This is my friend, Winn Busby.”

Bette Lincoln inclined her head. She glanced at her husband, saw the way he regarded Winn, and returned her cool gaze to the woman as well. “Charmed.” She didn’t extend her hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Lincoln,” Winn said in a quiet voice.

The woman arched her plucked brows and regarded Winn’s dress. “What a lovely gown, dear. Tell me, who are you wearing?”

“Um, Burlington Coat Factory.” Winn giggled but the other women didn’t see the hilarity in her statement.

Patrick, on the other hand, stifled a laugh and whispered in her ear. “You are officially my favorite person on the planet right now.”

She couldn’t deny his statement, although meant in jest, pleased her to no end.

“Come now, Bette, my love,” crowed Dr. Lincoln. “Not every woman is concerned with high fashion.”

“No,” whispered Mrs. Lincoln, appraising Winn’s little black dress. “This is true.”

Winn looked at her gown. She’d always thought her LBD was the nicest in her new bridesmaid collection, but apparently it didn’t quite meet Mrs. Lincoln’s standards.

Would
she
meet Mrs. Lincoln’s standards for her son? Probably not.

“I think you’re the sexiest woman in the room,” murmured Patrick. “And now I’m going to steal you away.” He smiled at his folks. “Have a great night, you two. Stay out of trouble.”

“I could say the same to you, son,” Dr. Lincoln replied, his jovial manner gone. “But the advice would be too late, wouldn’t it?”

Patrick steered Winn toward the bar and ordered up a couple more drinks. The tense line on his brow took a fiercer turn, making him appear almost savage. The bartender handed him a Scotch and wine for Winn. Patrick grabbed his glass and downed the alcohol in one swallow, not even wincing at the burn.

“Hey,” she said, touching his sleeve. “Go easy. It’s not worth getting shitfaced.”

He turned to her. “My dad doesn’t believe me and neither does anyone else in my family. They all think I slept with Gloria Dietrich, that I brought this all on myself. Dad was already disgusted with me for not going into medicine. When the scandal with Gloria erupted and I lost my job, any respect he had for me flew out the fucking window.” He let out a bitter laugh. “And the worst part is he’s been cheating on my mother for years. She doesn’t act as if she cares. As long as she maintains her position in society, she’s happy. And they have the gall to treat me like a pariah.” He shook his head. “Not a single one of them thinks I’m innocent.”

She was about to put her two cents in when Dr. Lincoln sidled up to them again. “I thought you should know. Jason and Gloria Dietrich just arrived.”

The color slid off Patrick’s face, like excess paint dripping down a wall. “Why are they here?”

“Conrad golfs with Jason. Of course he’d be invited.”

“I don’t believe this.” Patrick stared at the bar, shaking his head.

His father took the opportunity to deliver a lecture. “You wouldn’t have an issue with Jason if you hadn’t strayed with his wife. Instead of clinging to the values I taught you, you gave into temptation. What were you thinking, Patrick? Carousing with that woman. And now, here you are, a shell of a man with no job. I’m ashamed to call you my son.”

Patrick gawked at his father, and Winn fought the urge to take a swing at the elder Lincoln.

“You believed every word of Gloria’s garbage, didn’t you?”

“I know what you’re like. Your head gets turned easily.”

“Says the man who’s been chasing skirts since the day I was born,” snarled Patrick.

Dr. Lincoln clenched his fists, as if wanting to take a swing.

Winn stepped in front of Patrick. “Don’t you dare.”

The doctor glared at her. “I suppose you believe him.”

Winn turned to look at Patrick. The sad slope to his shoulders broke her heart. “Yes, I do believe him. I don’t believe Patrick slept with a married woman.” She paused, nervous adrenaline making her heart pump. “He’s too good a man to do it. And you should be ashamed for not supporting your son.”

Patrick gaped at her, his eyes wide and his face pale with disbelief. “Winn, I don’t know what to say.”

His father’s lip curled and he walked away without making another comment.

She gazed at Patrick and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I believe you. I believe
in
you.”

He caressed her cheek and his thumb grazed her lip. The corners of his mouth lifted into a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

For another magical moment, she expected him to kiss her and her heart reacted with jumps and bumps. However, once again, fate kicked her in the ass. She sensed another presence as it marched toward them. She turned and saw a well-dressed couple. She recognized the woman as the one she’d seen in the pantyhose shop. Gloria Dietrich. And the man with the self-important air could only be her husband Jason.

Patrick eyed them, his gaze hard, in anticipation of a battle.

“Well, well,” Jason drawled. “Conrad assured me only the best people would be at his wedding. I must talk to him about his standards.”

“I didn’t think talking was your style,” Patrick replied with a cool grin. “You’re more a fire-first-ask-questions-later kinda guy.”

Gloria pulled on her husband’s sleeve. “Please, Jason. Don’t do this. Not here.”

The man glared at his wife. “Don’t
you
tell me what to do. You have a bit more groveling ahead before you get to tell me what to do.”

Nice
, thought Winn.
A real charmer
. No wonder the woman looked elsewhere. Only if she didn’t sleep with Patrick, did it mean she slept with someone else?

“Don’t talk to Gloria like that,” Patrick threatened.

“Oh, this is perfect,” said Jason, his voice rising and echoing around the reception area. He didn’t lower it, not even when heads began to turn. “Still hankering after my wife, are you? I thought I taught you a lesson in firing your ass, Lincoln.” He rolled up his sleeves. “Clearly, a more physical approach is needed.”

Patrick looked up, as if to the heavens, but then pinned his sharp gaze on the other man. “If you seriously think I’m going to start brawling at a wedding, and with the likes of you…”

“Scared, Lincoln?”

Patrick stood almost a whole head taller than Dietrich. The idea of him being scared of his former boss almost made Winn laugh out loud. Even still, bile traveled up her throat as Jason continued to hurl insults at Patrick. The thought of him getting hurt, getting even a scratch, upset her more than she cared to admit.

This situation stank, but not just because it was about to erupt in violence. No. Something didn’t sit right with her. And every time she considered it, her thoughts flew to Gloria.

She eyed the other woman, noticing her tense stance and guilt-etched face. Gloria gnawed her lip, clearly on the verge of saying something, but held back by fear.