smile tugged at the corner of John’s mouth as he slid into the Corvette. He hadn’t planned on having Miss January jump into his car. She looked like she’d been shrink-wrapped in satin from armpit to thigh. Her legs were long and tan, and she wore a pair of flimsy strapless high heels on her feet. He pulled out of the circular drive.

“Oh, no,” she moaned. “I’ve really messed up this time.”

“I could take you back,” he offered.

“It’s too late. I’ve done it now. And Sissy is going to kill me. I’ve left her there all by herself. She went to get a bouquet of lilac and pink roses, and I ran out! And Sissy doesn’t like the groom. She thinks he’s a lecherous old leprechaun.”

A real bad feeling tweaked the back of John’s neck. “But isn’t Sissy the bride?”

“No.” Miss January stared at him with her big green eyes and shook her head. “I am. And I can’t believe I left Virgil at the altar!”