Excerpt of Don't Bite the Bridesmaid by Tiffany Allee

When the door opened, Alice Shepard suddenly wished she’d had five appletinis.

Noah Thorpe peered at her from behind hooded eyes. And if his bored expression hadn’t told her he wasn’t interested in talking to her, his tone would have.

“Yes?”

She straightened her dress and then ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it. She could do this. Four appletinis and enough outrage bottled inside her chest to choke a bear virtually guaranteed enough courage.

“Hi, Noah,” she said, forcing a smile. She could do this. The worst he could do was say no, right? “Can I come in and talk to you for a minute?”

He paused for a moment, and the humiliating thought that he’d deny her even that simple request flashed through her mind. But finally, he nodded and stepped back.

She steeled her spine and walked past him into his foyer, glancing around even though she’d seen it several times in the five years she’d lived next door. But that had been for silly requests or neighborly things. Asking him to get a tree trimmed was one thing, and didn’t really compare to what she intended to ask now. And it hit her how very nice his house was. What did the man do for a living to afford such a place at his age? He couldn’t be much older than thirty. Family money?

Noah walked past her and his dark grey dress shirt brushed against her bare shoulder. She suppressed a shiver, smoothed her sundress, and followed him. And she did her best to keep from staring at the smooth line of his wide shoulders, and the way his pants revealed one of the nicest butts she’d seen in…well, ever.

Down girl. There was no doubt about it, Noah was attractive. Her sister had asked once if Alice’s neighbor was cute. The word didn’t apply. Even the word handsome didn’t do him justice. Erotic. Sensual. Dangerous. But never simply handsome. And certainly not cute.

With dark hair cropped close, a sharp jaw, and a Roman nose, he made her breath catch every time she saw him. But the chiseled features had nothing over his eyes. Dark and impenetrable, he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

She half tripped on his hallway rug, but managed to catch herself before she fell. Noah glanced back, and her face burned.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she squeaked.

It wasn’t fair. Not only was he handsome, but he had a body that promised to be lean and perfect, even though it had been covered in expensive clothing every time she’d seen him.

Well, every time she’d seen him close-up. A glimpse or two from her balcony while he took a midnight swim in his pool hardly counted. She couldn’t make out much detail in the moonlight.

Besides, fantasizing about him was pointless. She wasn’t ready to move on yet, anyway. She liked being alone. Sure, she got a little lonely sometimes, but she could deal with that a lot more easily than she could the alternative. On her own, she didn’t have to worry about keeping her guard up, or what anyone else thought of her choices. She didn’t have to go to the constant string of parties Brent enjoyed, didn’t have to watch out for his dark moods.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked when they reached the kitchen.

She leaned on the granite breakfast bar, ignoring the barstools tucked beneath it. He’d obviously spent a lot on redoing the home with the nicest finishes around. Granite and marble abounded, and the floors were some sort of dark, exotic wood.

God, yes. “No, thank you.”

She had to get this over with quickly. Before she lost her nerve. Before the alcohol content in her blood got any lower.

“What can I do for you, Miss Shepard?” He stepped away from the refrigerator and turned those brilliant eyes on her. She lost her train of thought. Her stomach clenched, and she could only stare.

“Miss Shepard?” he asked again, but his tone was different. Lower.

“What do you do for a living?” The kitchen smelled clean—almost too clean and fresh. The man didn’t cook much, she would bet.

“That’s what you came to ask me?”

No. Crap. “No, I—this is a nice place is all. A little impersonal though.” She glanced nervously at her surroundings. “It could use some clutter.” Had she just told him his house could use some clutter? What the heck was wrong with her? There weren’t enough drinks in the world to excuse the comment…at least from her mouth. They weren’t exactly close.

He looked a little bemused. “You think my home could use some clutter.”

“Well, kind of. I mean, it’s nice. Just not terribly homey.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. “Sorry. I’ve had some appletinis and—”

“Yes, I can smell them,” he said.

Double crap. Did she smell that bad? But his neutral expression didn’t support that theory, and if anything, he leaned toward her.