Eventually, Jordan moved her hands and stepped back, giving Abby a wide smile, hoping it smothered all the feelings rampaging around her body.

She shook her head. There was nothing there. It was all in her head. Jordan had to sort her head out and do her job.

“Marcus is going to go berserk when he sees you in this.” The words came out of her mouth sounding sure, measured. Professional Jordan was back. Besides, she knew it was true, because it was exactly what had gone through her head when Abby had stepped out in her dress. Now, seeing her close-up, looking into her brown eyes, being near enough to reach out and trace Abby’s smile with the tips of her fingers… Well, she could only imagine how Marcus would feel.

Because Abby was marrying Marcus, not Jordan.

Abby cleared her throat, giving Jordan an unsteady grin. She walked out into the changing area, twirling once, twice, then back again. In this dress, she twirled with confidence. Jordan already knew this was the one.

“It looks pretty good, doesn’t it? I’m not quick to give myself compliments, but this dress…” she trailed off. “It makes me think of long, hot summers, of being barefoot on the beach.” She glanced up at Jordan, but then quickly away. “It makes me happy.”

Jordan nodded. She could see that. “Just like Marcus will,” she replied.

At her words, Abby stilled and glanced up at her. Something in her eyes made Jordan shudder.

Abby nodded. “Yes, just like that.”

Chapter 12

It was the night before they were due to fly, and Jordan was doing press-ups in the lounge. She’d been to the gym that morning, too. And the day before. Seeing Abby’s toned physique up close had spurred her into action. If the bride was that cut, the very least her bridesmaid could do was support that. Although, admittedly, it might be a little late for Jordan to gain ultimate definition in ten days. But she could try her best.

Karen walked in carrying two crumpets on a plate. Jordan didn’t even have to look to know they’d be slathered with butter. They were Karen’s favourite. Or, as she liked to say, her downfall. She sat on the sofa, curling one leg underneath her, assessing Jordan silently. The only sound was Jordan’s faint grunts as she lowered herself down, then up. When Karen finished, she put her plate on the wooden coffee table. She waited until Jordan collapsed on their wooden floor after her final set before she spoke.

“So tell me again you don’t like this woman.”

“Shut up.” The floorboards weren’t very comfortable. She sat up and dusted off her hands, before swivelling onto her feet and then standing. Jordan stretched her arms above her head, in a bid to put an end to this conversation.