Someone Like You Page 2

  But Daisy hadn’t been nearly so lucky.

  She took a sip of champagne and, hearing someone at a nearby table sniffle, snapped to attention, returning her focus to the best man.

  “…It’s not every day you get to bear witness to one of life’s great love stories,” Lincoln was saying as he lifted a glass. “But I consider myself blessed every day, not because I know Cassidy, not because I know Emma, but because I know these two as they are together. They bring out the best in each other. The best in all of us. To Emma and Cassidy.”

  Daisy lifted her glass along with the rest of the room, even as her eyes narrowed on Lincoln. They’d had a deal. She had tears, he had laughs. And then he’d gone for both.

  That son of a bitch.

  Hell, even Cassidy looked like he was swallowing a lump in his throat as he went to man-hug his friend.

  Lincoln caught Daisy’s eye over Cassidy’s shoulder and winked.

  She let out a little laugh as she sipped her champagne. The bastard.

  “He’s hot, right?”

  Daisy turned and found the girlfriend of one of Cassidy and Lincoln’s coworkers standing beside her. She quickly flipped through her mental Rolodex trying to remember all the names she learned last night. Mandy? Macy? No, Mollie.

  Mollie was dating the Jackson Burke. Daisy wasn’t ashamed to admit being a little starstruck about being in the same room as the multi-Super-Bowl-winning quarterback. An injury had ended his career, and he’d rebounded by joining the Oxford team as a fitness editor.

  Oxford was the brother-magazine of Stiletto, where Emma and the other bridesmaids worked. Daisy spoke with her sister enough to know that it was a tight-knit crew, but before flying into town she’d still had to do her homework to keep everyone straight.

  Emma (Stiletto) was marrying Cassidy (Oxford) who was friends with Jake (also Oxford) who was married to Grace (Stiletto again, and Emma’s best friend)…

  Then there was Mollie, who wasn’t connected to either magazine other than through her relationship with Jackson Burke, but it felt like she was since they were all thick as thieves.

  Daisy rubbed her forehead. It was a headache.

  And though she’d never admit it, she was maybe just a tiny bit jealous. Jealous that Emma was marrying the love of her life, surrounded by a group of friends who were there for one another no matter what.

  Daisy hadn’t lost all her friends after Gary had left, but enough. Enough had fled once Daisy no longer fit into their double dates out on the town in Charlotte and baby showers at the country club as newlyweds had slowly transitioned to new parents.

  She was happy for her sister, but it felt a little like her twin’s life was taking off at the very moment Daisy’s crumbled around her.

  “Who’s hot?” Daisy said, turning her attention back to Mollie.

  The pretty blonde laughed. “I guess that wasn’t a fair question. We’re sort of surrounded by testosterone here. I thought I was used to this crew’s good looks, but seeing these guys in their tuxes…”

  Daisy’s gaze flitted back to where Lincoln was laughing with her sister.

  “It’s hard not to stare, right?”

  Daisy looked back at Mollie, who was giving her a kind smile, as though understanding exactly who Daisy was looking at—thinking about.

  She decided not to play coy. “Lincoln’s…well, he’s everything Emma promised he would be. Is it true half the city’s female population’s in love with him?”

  Mollie snorted and sipped her red wine. “Half? It’s got to be three-quarters at least. Even those of us solidly in love with someone else can’t help be at least a little in love with Lincoln Mathis.”

  “Surely the long line of brokenhearted women must be catching up with him?”

  “Actually, not so much,” Mollie said. “Nobody’s quite figured out how he manages, but despite his having a black book bigger than the Bible, there doesn’t seem to be even a trace of bitterness among his ex-flings.”

  “That’s…impressive.”

  “It is.”

  “Gay?” Daisy asked casually, more intrigued than she wanted to let on.

  “I don’t know. Maybe? But I don’t get that vibe,” Mollie said, as they watched Lincoln be led onto the dance floor by a dazzling brunette in a tight dress.

  Daisy hadn’t gotten that vibe either. When she’d made her way toward him at the rehearsal dinner last night, she’d felt the way he’d watched her. It was the way of a man watching a woman. Appreciative. Intent.

  But by the time she’d introduced herself, the shutters had come back down, all the intensity in that blue gaze replaced by charming playfulness.

  Still, he was…compelling. And very, very likable. She understood why Emma had warned her. A few years ago, Lincoln Mathis would have been exactly the type of guy Daisy would have been drawn to.

  He was the handsome to her pretty, the suave city guy to her charming Southern belle. They could have taken this wedding—and the after-wedding—by storm if they wanted to.

  But Emma needn’t have worried. Daisy was no longer that girl. Sure, she played the part. On the surface, she was still the same sweet-natured Daisy Sinclair that she’d always been. Only Emma knew otherwise.

  Well, Emma, and perhaps Lincoln Mathis, she thought, as his gaze once again found hers over the head of the brunette who was doing an R-rated grind against his pelvis.

  She expected another playboy wink, but instead he inclined his chin slightly, as though he understood her thoughts.

  “Huh,” Mollie said, reminding Daisy that she wasn’t alone.

  “Huh what?” Daisy asked, glancing over at the pretty blonde.

  “That’s twice now, he’s sought you out in the crowd,” Mollie replied thoughtfully.

  “He’s a ladies’ man,” Daisy said in amusement. “Isn’t that what he does?”

  “Lincoln’s a ladies’ man, plural,” Mollie said. “Meaning all the ladies, never just one.”

  “I haven’t even spoken to him tonight.”

  “Sometimes eye contact says it all,” Mollie said, nudging her elbow against Daisy’s.

  Daisy laughed and glanced over. “You’re a romantic.”

  Mollie’s eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Jackson Burke, laughing with some of his coworkers. “I have reason to be.”

  Yeah, well, I have reason not to be, Daisy thought.

  The relentless tempo of some forgettable Top 40 hit faded into a slow song, and Daisy watched in amusement as Mollie’s smile grew even wider as Jackson Burke started making his way toward her with purpose.

  “You care if I ditch you?” Mollie asked softly, setting her empty glass on a nearby tray.

  “Of course not,” Daisy said, waving Mollie away.

  Daisy took another sip of her champagne, watching as wedding guests took their places on the dance floor, warding off her boredom by trying to guess how long each couple had been together based on body language.

  She was a little amused to see that Emma and all of her Stiletto friends still seemed to be in the handsy honeymoon stage with their significant others, even though she knew they’d mostly been with their respective spouses for years.

  Daisy felt a little twist of her heart. Once upon a time, she’d thought that’d be her and Gary. As much in love on someone else’s wedding day as they had been on their own. At least she’d been in love on that day. She wasn’t sure someone like Gary knew what love was.

  Still, she was glad to be here. Glad to be surrounded by all of this happiness, even if it was bittersweet. Daisy wished her father could be here to see this. He’d died of a heart attack a year ago, and though their dad had wreaked plenty of havoc on Emma and Cassidy’s relationship all those years ago, Daisy wished he could have walked Emma down the aisle and had a chance at the father-daughter dance.

  The way it had worked out was rather lovely, though. Cole Sharpe, yet another Oxford writer, had walked Emma down the aisle, and a whole slew of the Oxford guys had twirled a
laughing Emma around the dance floor in place of the father-daughter dance.

  It struck Daisy that this was Emma’s family. Sure, the twins were close, but they were orphans now, and they’d never been particularly close to the rest of their extended family. So Emma had built a family here in New York, with a network of tight-knit friendships.

  And though Daisy was happy for Emma she was also…jealous.

  “I hate to break it to you, pet, but you’re pulling off the wallflower routine a little too convincingly over here.”

  Daisy turned, somehow unsurprised to see Lincoln Mathis standing beside her, blue eyes twinkling above the pink bow tie that he pulled off with impressive masculinity.

  “You cheated,” she said, by way of greeting.

  He smiled, slow and flirty, as he rested one shoulder against the wall she was leaning on, looking down at her. “How’s that?”

  “You made them laugh and cry in your speech. I thought we agreed that you were just going to be the funny guy.”

  He smiled wider. “What can I say, I’m alluring in a multitude of ways.”

  “Speaking of,” she said, nodding her chin slightly to the sultry brunette making her way toward them, “I believe your previous dance partner is wanting an encore.”

  He let out the subtlest of groans, so quiet she thought she might have imagined it.

  “Dance with me,” he said suddenly to Daisy, straightening and looking down at her.

  She jolted in surprise, then in panic. “I can’t.”

  He smiled and held out a hand. “Come on now, Wallflower. I’m very good at dancing.”

  Wallflower. Daisy had never been a wallflower in her life. Although he had a point. She did seem to be lurking in the corner a bit. She silently scolded herself. This was everything she’d been coaching herself not to do. Not to let Gary win…

  “I don’t doubt your dancing prowess,” she replied saucily, “but—”

  She broke off. What could she possibly say? I don’t like being touched?

  It’s not that she couldn’t be touched. She wasn’t that broken. She didn’t freak out. She’d endured Cassidy’s hug when she’d greeted him last night; she’d danced earlier with her uncle. But those men were family.

  Lincoln Mathis was…not family.

  Dance with him, she commanded herself. Don’t be that broken woman Gary tried to make you.

  She didn’t move, and slowly Lincoln’s hand dropped to his side, just as the brunette reached them.

  “I love this song,” the woman said, running a possessive hand up Lincoln’s arm. “Dance?”

  Lincoln held Daisy’s gaze and she shrugged before blowing him a teasing good-bye kiss. “Bye-bye.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Actually,” Lincoln said, turning and giving the other woman a regretful smile, “I need to step out for a moment.”

  The woman’s perfectly shaped brows folded into a frown. “Step out? For what?”

  “I need to show Daisy something,” he said, bending and kissing the other woman’s cheek. “Next time, love.”

  Before Daisy could register that she’d been commandeered as part of Lincoln Mathis’s escape, he’d plucked the champagne flute out of her hand, setting it aside before clasping her fingers in his and pulling her toward the door.

  “Wait, we’re really leaving?” she asked with a laugh as he tugged her through the throng of wedding guests.

  “Yep.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “It’s my sister’s wedding, I have family here, and…”

  “But you want to leave,” he said, turning and facing her.

  She narrowed her gaze. “Why would I want that?”

  He met her eyes. “Because you don’t like weddings any more than I do.”

  Chapter 3

  “How adept are you in those things?” Lincoln asked, nodding with his chin to Daisy’s sky-high silver sandals.

  “Well let’s see,” she said, holding out her fingers and counting on them. “Pageant winner, debutante, Daffodil Princess, sorority girl, country club board member…”

  “So you can keep up?”

  She gave a small smile. “I can keep up. What did you have in mind?”

  Lincoln inhaled the warm June air before exhaling slowly. What did he have in mind?

  All he knew was that he hadn’t been able to take it anymore. He’d spent the entire day, hell, the entire past month, being happy for Cassidy and Emma. He hadn’t had to fake it. He really was happy for them. There weren’t better people or better friends.

  Didn’t make the bouts of would have been/could have beens any easier to deal with, and the one that had just hit him had been especially rough. The crush of longing, the surge of anger.

  Lincoln had needed to get out. Needed to get away, to be alone with his thoughts.

  And yet rather than being alone, he’d invited an all but stranger to join him at a particularly vulnerable moment. Why?

  He glanced down to where Daisy stood, patiently waiting for him to work through his thoughts. It was strange. Her features were nearly identical to Emma’s, a woman he saw more days than not, and yet when he looked at her, he didn’t see Emma. He saw Daisy.

  And it wasn’t just that her hair was lighter or that she had a Southern drawl or that she seemed to have a penchant for pink lipstick while Emma preferred neutrals. It was underneath all that that was different.

  “You’re staring,” she said.

  “The pink dress. It suits you.”

  “It does.” She nodded at his bow tie. “Pink suits you as well.”

  Lincoln winced. The suggestion of pink bow ties had been a mistake. He’d done it solely because he knew the guys expected such antics of him, but it only served to bring up more painful memories. He’d meant it as an homage, and instead it felt like a mockery of the wedding that would never be.

  He was silent a moment too long, and Daisy gave him a considering look.

  “We don’t have to do this,” she said. “I can go back inside. Give you some space.”

  Don’t leave me.

  The thought came out of nowhere, and he frowned. What was wrong with him? She’d given him the perfect out, and he…

  He wasn’t going to take it. He didn’t want to dwell on his melancholy. There’d be plenty of time for that tomorrow.

  “And have you go back to holding up that wall with your shoulder blades?” he said, fixing a smile on his face. “I think not. Tell me, Daisy Sinclair, what are your thoughts on New York City?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It’s…busy.”

  He made a buzzing noise. “The word you were looking for was energetic. Go on.”

  “Noisy?” she supplied.

  “Lively. Next.”

  “Expensive.”

  “Yeah okay,” he admitted. “You’ve got me there. But it’s only expensive because everyone wants to be here.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Mission accepted.”

  “Wait, what? I don’t want—”

  “To fall in love with this city? Sure you do.”

  Lincoln extended an arm, liking the way she rolled her eyes before taking it. It was strangely refreshing, spending time with a woman who didn’t particularly seem to want to spend time with him.

  “So where are we headed?” she asked as they began walking down the sidewalk. “Empire State Building? Statue of Liberty? Brooklyn Bridge?”

  “Not tonight, love, I don’t have my fanny pack or selfie stick.”

  “Then where to?”

  “Dive bar.”

  “Um, you’re in a tux and this dress is silk.”

  “So we’ll skip the beer pong. Live a little.”

  She glanced back over her shoulder. “Are you sure we shouldn’t be back at the wedding? We’re the maid of honor and best man.”

  He glanced down at her worried profile. “We can if you’d like. But as far as I can tell, everyone’s knee deep in champagne and optimism. I know Cassidy won’t care. Will Emma?”

  �
�No,” she admitted. “With the way they were eye-boning on the dance floor, I’m not even sure they’ll notice.”

  “My thoughts exactly. And I’ve already arranged for the limo to pick them up at midnight to whisk them off to a fancy hotel suite where they can bone for real.”

  “Well done, Best Man,” she said, punching his shoulder. “Although I believe the cliché is for us to go to said hotel suite, sprinkle rose petals on the bed.”

  “Yes, but then the cliché also would have us being so overwhelmed by the romance of it all that we fall onto said honeymoon bed in a fit of lust.”

  He wanted the flirtatious words back almost the second they were out of his mouth. It wasn’t that Lincoln didn’t flirt with women—that was what he did, who he was.

  But he had boundaries—topics he didn’t touch, insinuations he didn’t make—and he’d just crossed his own line. He flirted with women, but he kept it PG, always. Referring to him and Daisy in bed together…PG-13, at least.

  Hell, the vision of him and naked Daisy that had crossed his mind just now was a lot closer to an R rating.

  And it alarmed him a hell of a lot more than he cared to admit.

  Lucky for him, Daisy didn’t seem to notice. Instead she tipped her head back and looked up at the sky. “You can’t see the stars here.”

  “Can you where you live?” he asked, grateful for the change in subject. Stars were definitely a safer topic than sex.

  “Some. My ex wanted a big house on a lot of land, so not too many bright lights around.”

  “You still live there?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I got the house in the divorce. He didn’t want it, and at the time I didn’t have the mental energy to think up an alternate plan.”

  “And what about now?”

  “Now?” She glanced up at the sky. “It’s home.”

  “But a home with bad memories?”

  Her lips pressed together, and Lincoln silently cursed. What was he doing? He was the last person who should go digging into other people’s pasts.

  Lincoln was saved from having to apologize as they arrived at their destination.

  Daisy looked up and laughed. “When you said ‘dive bar,’ I thought you meant a dive bar, not that that was its actual name.”