Always A Bridesmaid Stacy Dawn

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product
of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead,
events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Artwork provided by Dayna Hart http://www.daynahart.com, courtesy of

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Always A Bridesmaid Stacy Dawn

Always A Bridesmaid

by

Stacy Dawn

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Always A Bridesmaid Stacy Dawn

“ Maggie! There you are. We need your help!”

Clinging to the bags of plastic cups and paper plates piled in my arms, I popped
my head out of the pantry. Desperation marred Samantha’s perfectly made up face.
That look could only mean one thing...trouble for me.
Samantha’s grip viced around my arm, pulling me out the kitchen door. Her
tawny ringlets flew in my face as she sped us down the hallway.
“Come on. We need you to wear a gown in the show.”
“Whoa! No way.” I planted my feet, juggling the supplies as we played tug-of-
war with my arm.
Prancing around in front of a large crowd just wasn’t my thing, but that wasn’t
the only reason I was so adamant. This wasn’t just any fashion show; this was
Parkwood’s Valentine’s Day Bridal Show complete with suits, tuxes, wedding dresses
and, worst of all, bridesmaid gowns. I already had more than a dozen of the multi-
colored taffeta dresses hanging in the back of my closet. With my thirtieth birthday only
two weeks away and no prince in sight, I was tired of watching everyone else’s happily
ever after; I vowed never to wear another bridesmaid’s gown again.
Being half-a-head taller gave me the advantage and I abused the fact, standing
rock solid, refusing to move another inch. “I’m not—”
Samantha held a hand up to block my protest. “Gloria tripped on the front steps
and sprained her ankle.” She pointed down the hall to where a pale-faced brunette sat
with her foot propped up on an adjacent chair. “We really need you to take her place.”

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Always A Bridesmaid Stacy Dawn

Pulling the suffering friend card out was a low blow…but it worked.
Wasn’t there an old saying? Always a bridesmaid, never a bride? “I wonder if they
had me in mind,” I muttered.
“What was that?” Samantha asked.
“I said what color taffeta this time,” I amended reluctantly as she relieved me of
the cups and plates.
“Good. We don’t have a minute to waste!”
And she didn’t. If I hadn’t been there during the transformation, I would never
have believed the image in the backstage mirror was my own. Instead of multi-colored
taffeta, the full-length glass reflected the shimmering waves of a pure white bridal
gown. Delicate pearl beads traced elegant patterns over the fitted bodice and down
layers of full skirts, as whisper thin veiling flowed from an array of floral beauty
crowning my auburn curls. Is this fairy-tale fantasy really me?
Entranced by my own image, I almost missed the flurry of pink ruffles bounding
towards me and caught the giggling young girl seconds before we both ended up on the
floor.
Doe eyes twinkled mischievously over dimpled cheeks. "My Daddy's gonna
marry you.”
“What?” The trance of the bridal dress quickly dissolved, and my brain stopped
adding a prince to the picture long enough to let logic return.
Recalling Samantha had mentioned a groom would be walking me down the
aisle, I bent down and tapped a finger on the imp’s button nose. “Oh no, sweetheart.
We’re just pretending today,” I chuckled. “I don’t really think your mom would like it if
I married your dad.”
"Hannah, it's almost our turn."
The little girl turned quickly and I stood to greet the woman wearing a pale rose
formal gown and friendly smile.
"You must be Maggie,” she began, dropping her hands affectionately onto the
child’s shoulders. "I'm Susan, and I see you've already met this little handful. We’re

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Always A Bridesmaid Stacy Dawn

scheduled to go on stage with you." Her brows wrinkled in concern as she looked
around. "But I haven't seen Mark yet. He was supposed to meet us here.”
"Let’s go ladies,” the stage manager called out, waving us up the stairs towards
the long curtains.
Susan’s smile twisted. “Guess we’ll have to go on without him—but you can bet
I’ll be having a word with him later, that’s for sure.”
Following the mother and daughter, I waited at the bottom of the stairs until
they disappeared behind the curtains before gathering my skirts to follow. On the third
step catastrophe struck! My shoe caught in the gown’s lining pitching me helplessly
backwards. Gasping in a breath, I did the only thing possible—braced myself for a
painful landing.
Instead of splatting on the floor though, I thudded into a wall of warmth and,
within seconds, found myself swept up and secured between two strong arms and an
expansive chest.
"Now that's what I call taking the plunge," a gentle voice chuckled in my ear.
Senses reeling, I stared up into a strikingly handsome face with melting, honey-
brown eyes.
“I could make another joke about tying the knot but actually, you’re strangling
me.”
My gaze fell from the amused lips to my shaking hands fiercely clutching the
grey-striped cravat beneath the lapels of a black tuxedo.
Cradled safely against my rescuer’s broad chest, I slowly released my death grip.
Everything outside of his mesmerizing eyes and warm embrace was quickly forgotten
as the moment lengthened into one of pure enchantment.
I must have stolen one too many of those moments, however, for the next thing I
knew, I felt us moving....up.
And I was still held tight in his arms.
Snapping out of the honey-eyed daze, and with growing alarm, I caught the
stage manager’s grin of approval as he held back the curtains. Before I could protest, my

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so-called rescuer boldly carried me—billowing wedding dress and all—under their
crimson archway.
"What are you doing?” I hissed in disbelief.
He winked and tossed me a dashing smile.
“I’m improvising.”
I couldn’t believe it! He was enjoying himself—and so was the crowd. Hundreds
of future brides clapped and cheered wildly with each step he took down the stage
aisle.
That’s when I noticed the pale, rose-colored gown and pink ruffles making their
way back towards us. Instantly, I recognized the twinkle in Hannah’s honey-brown
eyes and my heart sank. The puzzled look on Susan’s face confirmed my worst fears. I
had been mooning over and carried out by a married man.
“You’re Mark,” I sighed, dejection taking all the fun out of being wrapped in his
strong embrace.
His features took on a pleasantly surprised expression. “Yes I am. And you are?”
“Maggie,” I replied sullenly.
Assuming he was going to set me down immediately, I was confused when his
hold tightened. “Then smile, Maggie. We’re supposed to be the happy couple,
remember?”
With heat enflamed cheeks, I remembered our audience and pasted on a shaky
smile. When Mark once again seemed to have no intention of putting me down, my
embarrassment turned to annoyance.
"I think I should walk now," I suggested through my clenched-teeth smile.
He grinned back with a dismissive shake of his head. "That's all right. I don't
mind.”
I found his growing amusement at my expense aggravating. "But I do," I hissed
in frustration.

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Laughing aloud, Mark placed me gently on my feet. He was much taller than I
expected and I couldn’t help but notice how well the black tuxedo hugged his muscular
physique.
The tender hand he kept on my arm became another distraction all together.
"So, have you done this before," Mark asked as we paused to show off the formal
attire.
It was hard to concentrate with his warm touch guiding me in a slow spin. "D-
done what," I stuttered as my shimmering skirts floated regally over the stage.
His shoulders hitched in a slight shrug. "Model...walk down the aisle...either
one."
"Neither," I replied, ending my turn to face him again.
"Good."
How one word could say so much I'll never know, but the low timbered word
compelled me to look up. For a split second, I lost myself again in the melting depth of
those deliciously rich eyes.
I knew we were supposed to be doing something but for the life of me, I couldn’t
think of anything but the tingle of pure heat streaking across my shoulders and down
into more intimate places.
A glimpse of pink frills disappearing behind the stage curtains was all it took to
bring reality crashing down.
How could you forget he’s married, I berated myself. I was raised far better than to
gawk adolescently at a married man.
Praying this humiliation would end soon; I forced another smile and reluctantly
let Mark guide me back up the stage.
Near the curtains, he flashed me a suspiciously roguish grin. Had I been thinking
clearly, I would have seen what was coming. As it was, I barely had time to gasp before
hard, strong arms once again swept me up in a tight union of white satin and solid
chest. To the cheers and sighs of three hundred women, Mark gallantly carried me over
the threshold of the crimson curtains.

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"Please put me down," I begged as he made his way down the back stairs to
where Susan waited with Hannah.
"Are you sure," he teased. "Because I really don't mind."
My response was an exasperated sigh to which a chuckling Mark finally took
pity on me and set me down.
"A little late don't you think," Susan scolded good-naturedly.
"Oh, I don't know," he replied holding my gaze. "I think I was right on time."
Confused by his admiring stare—and my involuntary reactions to it—I grew
more uncomfortable by the second. Unfortunately, Susan's hand on my arm prevented
my escape.
"Please let me apologize for my brother," she began. "He grew up reading one
too many adventure stories and sometimes forgets he’s not a knight in shining armor."
I wouldn't be too sure about that, I thought regretfully. Then it hit me...brother? My
heart skipped a beat.
"Too bad Mark wasn't late for his own wedding," Susan muttered. "He could
have saved himself the trouble of having to divorce the wicked queen."
With a tolerant smile, Mark shrugged off his sister’s knowing look and bent
down to pick up Hannah.
"But then I wouldn't have my princess here, eh sweetheart."
Hannah giggled within Mark’s growling bear hug.
It was obvious that this was a man who cherished what he loved...and he was
looking right at me!
"Would you like to join us for dinner Maggie...please?"
I could only nod because the look of promise in Mark’s eyes left me breathless.
"I told you my Daddy was gonna marry you," Hannah sang with an impish grin.
I’d never been totally convinced of love-at-first-sight but...maybe the giggling pile
of ruffles was right after all, I laughed softly to myself. Heaven knows...you can't always be a
bridesmaid!

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Always A Bridesmaid Stacy Dawn

For more work by this author, please visit Sweeter Romantic Notions,
http://www.sweeterromanticnotions.com, or Stacy Dawn
http://www.stacydawn.com.

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