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.