Prologue
The dresses were gorgeous.
Mikayla Martin stood back from the finished products and rubbed at her lower back as she let a small, pleased smile curve her lips.
They were the dresses that romantic dreams were made of. Miles of frothy lace, satin, silk, and chiffon. Thousands of tiny seed pearls had been hand-sewn onto each one. Love had gone into the creation of each of the three wedding gowns, and the jade bridesmaid dress had been sewn with extra attention to detail. It was her favorite color, and one of her own designs.
Finally, after so many years of hard work and dreams, and the designs she so lovingly crafted, Mikayla's Creations was beginning to get a small measure of notice. Mikayla had no dreams of runway success. What she did have were dreams of a small, exclusive reputation that would keep her clothing shop open and thriving.
She breathed out a deep sigh and fought to let the dresses go. She wanted to pack them up and take them home with her. She didn't want to let a single one of them out of her sight.
"I know that look on your face, Mikayla." Her assistant, Deirdre Maple, pushed back her hair, propped her hands on her hips, and gave Mikayla a knowing smile.
With her kittenish expression and long red-gold hair, Deirdre was the advertising drive behind the shop. While Mikayla kept the customers happy, Deirdre brought them in by showcasing the wedding gowns and exclusive ball gowns Mikayla created. The bridesmaid gown she had been fondling was one of those. A one-of-a-kind that had been designed for one woman, one body.
There was a small section of the shop dedicated to less formal clothing. Exclusive designs of more casual attire and a small selection of unique, one-of-a-kind footwear and other accessories. But the majority of the shop was dedicated to the formal dresses and wedding gowns Mikayla so loved.
"Yeah, I know, I gotta let it go." Mikayla forced a grin as she stepped back and gave it one last regretful look. "Go ahead and call our future bride and our lucky bridesmaid and let them know their dresses are ready for pickup. They'd better hurry, though, because I just might steal them after all."
Deirdre gave a low, light laugh, her hazel green eyes twinkling with laughter as she shook her head. The girl wore a sleeveless silk emerald blouse, no collar, the tailoring sewn to match her slender figure. The taupe above-the-knee slim-line skirt and matching pumps drew attention to the blouse and to Deirdre's lush head full of red-gold curls as they cascaded nearly to her hips.
"You told me to remind you that you have to pick Scott up after work today." Deirdre glanced at the clock on the wall. "If you're going to get there on time, then you'd better rock and roll."
Mr. Unreliable. Of all her brothers, Scotty had to be the most irritating, if the most lovable one. The baby of the family, he was always happy, always laughing, and rarely took anything seriously. He was forever needing a ride, advice, or a loan. Their mother called him the "needy one". Mikayla just called him lazy--although she did it affectionately.
"You know you'll have to listen to him whine if you're late." Deirdre laughed. "Better hurry."
Mikayla grimaced before looking around the interior of her "baby." This store was her life.
"You could hire a cab to go after your brother," Deirdre told her. "That way you could stand here and admire your handiwork a while longer."
Mikayla laughed, though her gaze lingered a moment longer. She turned away and strode across the plush chocolate carpeting of the floor.
She moved around the display of dresses and gowns and toward the counter where she pulled out the invoices from the shelf below.
"Everything has been paid in full," she told Dierdre as a sense of accomplishment filled her. "Now, if we could just get a few more of these orders in, I could breathe a little easier."
"They'll come in," Deirdre assured her, and Mikayla couldn't help but believe it.
The shop was growing slowly, but it was growing. The sense of fulfillment she felt was overwhelming at times. Mikayla was doing something everyone had told her she didn't have a chance of succeeding at in the current economy.
"Do you think either of us will ever wear one of those wedding gowns?" Deirdre nodded toward them. "Hell, Mikayla, aren't you tired of waiting for Mr. Right yet? I think I am. Mr. Almost Perfect might do it for me."
Mikayla turned her face away, hoping to hide her own doubts. She sometimes feared that Mr. Right was a figment of her dreams. That the incredible sex, deep romance, and shared bonding she dreamed of was the stuff of fantasies and romance novels, not real life.
"Not for me." Mikayla shook her head at the very thought of settling for less, though. "Some things last forever, Deirdre, if you know how to work for your dreams."
That dream didn't have to be a marriage, children, a life spent sharing the day-to-day adventure of simply living together. But it was a dream Mikayla found hard to let go.
Deirdre's sigh was heavy. "You have to be the only pragmatic romantic I've ever heard of," she accused. "Come on, Mikayla; it never lasts forever. Why not take what we can get?"
"It" being marriage. Deirdre thought in terms of marriage. She wanted the dress, the wedding, the little gold band on her finger, the little white picket fence.
For Mikayla, marriage, like any commitment, took a lot of work, understanding, and patience. She'd seen that in her parents' marriage all her life. Her mother and father had set a perfect example of what real love and a real relationship was. That was what Mikayla wanted. Not just the wedding, the gold band, or even the white picket fence. It was that sense of belonging, that feeling of being a part of something that was larger than herself. Something that she could be a partner in.
She wasn't dependent. She didn't want to be taken care of, and she didn't want to take care of anyone. At least not in the sense of accepting responsibility for him. She wanted to take care of his heart with the promise of her own, and she wanted a partner willing to share each day with her and, perhaps, one day, to share children with her.
She wanted the whole dream, and she was willing to wait for it. She just hoped that while she was waiting there was someone out there actually making his way toward her. She wasn't getting any younger, her grandmother often reminded her. Just as her grandmother reminded Mikayla that twenty-six was too old to still be a virgin.
How Mikayla's grandmother knew Mikayla was still a virgin she hadn't yet figured out. Did she have a red V painted on her forehead that she couldn't see?