HEY GUYS IT'S KRISTINA AND WELL I JUST GOT NOTICED THAT I KEEP PUTTING THESE NAMES THAT AREN'T PEOPLE IN THE STORY WELL HERE IS WHAT I REALLY MEANT~

WHEN I SAY THESE NAMES IT IS BY ACCIDENT IT'S BECAUSE I WRITE SO LATE AT NIGHT AND WHEN I READ THROUGH I DON'T NOTICE THE MISTAKES AND WELL YEAH HERE IS A 'KEY' ON THE NAMES AND WHAT I MEAN

ASHLEY/ASHLEE-MACEY

MARVIN-JOSH

DYLAN-ZACH

MIKE (I THINK) - GRANT

AND THAT'S ABOUT ALL I CAN THINK OF IF YOU GUYS SEE ANYMORE JUST TELL ME, NOW ONTO THE STORY! OH AND DISCLAIMER!

I SADLY DO NOT OWN THE GALLAGHER ACADEMY SERIES *TEAR*

"You didn't mention that our date was to your ex-wife's wedding," she said sweetly.

"Huh. Must have slipped my mind."

They walked into a blaze of light and noise, a string quarter almost drowned out by the chatter and laughter of a great number of well-dressed people. The mansion reminded Cammie of the Biltmore Estate she'd visited near Asheville. This mansion had the same feeling of Gilded Age glamour, and although not quite so over-the-top, was still pretty amazing with its art deco architecture and old-world interior decorating style. She'd only gotten into the Biltmore as a paying tourist. To be in a Gilded Age mansion as a guest—however bogus—was quite a thrill. She was again reminded of Gatsby as she glanced around, drinking in the atmosphere. Of course, Fitzgerald had lived in the area. Perhaps he'd visited this very house.

A woman spotted them immediately and came forward. She was an older, faded version of Macey, wearing a soft pink suit and a corsage of orchids. "Why, Zach," she cried, holding out arms that didn't just drip diamonds; it was more like a waterfall. "We'd almost given up on you and you know Macey planned her wedding around the NASCAR schedule so you could be here!"

Good move, Macey.

Cammie didn't think she was ready to face the mother of the bride. She hadn't yet recovered from meeting the bride. She mumbled something about the washroom in the general direction of Zach's ear, and stepped away as his ex-mother-in-law enveloped him in a hug that looked mildly abusive.

The washroom was a grand affair, of course, with black-and-white tile, marble walls, crystal chandeliers and acres of mirrors. The sight of her reflection made her cry out in distress. Her first ride in a convertible and she'd learned a valuable lesson. Never travel with a hair net. Her hair was so big, windblown and hopelessly tangled. Any of her makeup that hadn't been whipped off by her hair flying around her face at far too many miles an hour had smudged, run and spread so she looked like a rocker chick who'd gone a few rounds with a tornado.

Never mind she was prancing around at a society wedding in her underwear, her carefully styled hair and makeup were a mess and she had not so much as a clutch purse with her. No comb. No makeup. Nothing…

Fortunately, the washroom was equipped with wonderful Deco jar of stuff, so she sat on the blue velvet bench in front of a marble vanity and reached for a silver-blacked brush, refusing to even think about how unsanitary it was to use a hairbrush of unknown provenance, age or cleanliness. This was an emergency.

Redoing her softly curled style was out of the question, but once she'd brushed it out, her hair had a certain wavy wildness that could be considered deliberate. Pinching off a single tiny orchid from the gorgeously blooming plant in a black-and-white pot, she tucked the creamy bloom behind her ear.

With a dampened tissue she managed to reduce her convertible-induced raccoon shadow she hoped appeared intentional. Then, with a deep breath and a sense of fatality, she left the washroom.

Her few moments alone had given her the opportunity to realize that she'd gone temporarily insane. There was no other possibility. Josh's announcement—that triple whammy of 1) I'm dumping you; 2) for a colleague and 3) she's pregnant—had pretty much tossed Cammie into unexplored mental territory.

However, she wasn't quite ready to head back to her usual rational state. For one night, she was going to enjoy a small vacation from her usual self. Appearing for one night only Cammie Morgan, actress and girlfriend of one of NASCAR's sexiest drivers.

She was determined to enjoy every minute.

Zach was, by this time, in a deep conversation with an older man. He must have kept an eye out for her, for when she reached his side he didn't even turn, merely out an arm around her and pull her close.

Mmm. His chest was so broad and warm. She sensed the power and strength of his athlete's build. Really, not much acting was requited for her to lean into his embrace and gaze up at him as though he was the most exciting man she'd ever met.

"James," he said, sending her a shadow of a wink that only she could see. "I'd like to introduce my girlfriend, Cammie. James is Macey's father."

"It's a pleasure to meet any friend of Zach's," James said. He was a dapper man who looked to be in his mid forties. He was balding, with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. Macey may have thought Cammie looked slutty, but her father saw nothing amiss. His eyes twinkled when he looked at her. "A pleasure indeed." She felt Zach's arm tighten around her.

She smiled at Macey's father and shook his hand, which he held on to a little longer than necessary.

Macey's mother came out and said to her husband, "Now, don't monopolize Zach. Our other guests want to say hello." Then she stood there and engaged her daughter's ex in conversation herself, leaving Cammie stuck with the husband, who moved a step closer.

"What a lovely dress," he said, doing his best to look down the front of it.

"Thank you."

"I do like these skimpy fashions you young women choose."

"A recent study of media photos revealed that female stars bare approximately fifty-nine percent of their bodies today in public appearances as compared to a mere seven percent in the 1970s." She sighed. "No wonder the fitness craze keeps getting crazier."

The older man blinked. "What is it that you do, my dear?"

Oops. Shut up with the statistics, she reminded herself. "I'm an actress." More seemed to be required so she added, "Shooting a body wash commercial."

"You know, I've always been interested in how they make commercials. I'd love to come by and watch you work."

"Oh, I don't think that would be allowed," she said as brightly as she could.

He chuckled softly. "I've got a lot of connections. Which company's shooting? I tell you what I'll do. I'll come watch you work and then I'll take you for lunch at my club. I'm sure you'd enjoy it. The chef's famous. He has a way with steak that no one can duplicate."

As an actuary, she dealt with a lot of older men and she had her own method of dealing with the overfriendly.

"That's very kind of you," she said with a smile, "but I shouldn't encourage you to eat red meat. You know that a man your age who eats large amounts of red meat has a sixty-four percent greater chance of developing heart disease that a similarly aged vegetarian. Of course, you're increasing the risk of type two diabetes by fifty percent." He gaped at her and she went in for the kill. "And don't even get me started on the stats for prostate cancer and colon blockages."

He paled and the smirk left his face.

She patted his arm. "I wouldn't want to put you at risk."

"Right. Um, yes, of course. Well." He stared at his drink, and then put it down on a nearby table. "I'd better see how…everything's progressing. Cynthia?" he said sharply to his wife. "Come along."

She glanced up to find Zach looking at her in a quizzical way. "That was one of the most colorful brush-offs I've ever been privileged to witness," he said drawled. "How'd you know all that stuff?"

Darn, she'd hoped he hadn't heard.

She shrugged. "Scientific American was all they had in the green room."

He glanced at her curiously. A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne and she took one, sipping deeply. Dutch courage, her mother would call it. She'd take courage of any nationality right now.

"Your beer, Mr. Goode," the waiter said. Zach studied the bottle of beer, nodded and waved the empty glass provided.

"Thanks."

"You don't like champagne" How could anyone not like champagne?

"It's okay, but my contract states that the only alcohol I can drink is my sponsor's beer."

"Isn't that a little restrictive?"

He shrugged. "They don't put their money behind any other drivers and I don't drink anybody else's booze. Works for me."

Zach might have said more, but he was soon surrounded by people. He didn't seem too surprised; she guessed he was the most famous person in the room and probably being used to being approached. People checked her out the way she imagined they eyeballed his race cars, wondering if she was up to his speed, pretty enough, sleek enough.

She was a Dinky Toy compared to his usual cars.

What was she even doing here? It was unlike her not to act sensible.

Then Zach looked at her with a slight grin, and the scar crinkled so much she wanted to reach out and run her fingertip over the puckered curve. He was the kind of man a women like her could only worship from afar. Now, for tonight, she belonged by his side.

Forget sensible.

Cammie discovered that when you acted as though you were interesting and fun and sexy, a lot of people went along with the charade.

Of course, being with Zach pretty much guaranteed that people were going to form a different impression of her that they would if they saw her in her office in one of her Talbots suits.

And, strangely enough, the same phenomenon worked backward. The more that people treated her as though she were interesting, fun and born to party, the more of a fun party girl she became.

Wedding guest came up and talked to her, they told her jokes that made her laugh and she said things to make them laugh in return. Okay, they were all men talking to her, but that was all right. Her flirting skills were rusty—if she'd ever had any. It was nice to give them a workout.

Weather her newfound popularity with the opposite sex was because she was here with a NASCAR driver, barely dressed or had suddenly sprouted a sparking personality, she didn't know or care. She was Cinderella at the ball with Prince Charming. Naturally, midnight would come and she'd soon be back to her regular unexciting life, with no glass slipper left behind to change her destiny. So what? For once she was following a mad impulse and to heck with consequences. Not exciting enough, huh? How she wished Josh could see her now.

Zach came and took her arm, and since he was by far the most interesting man at the wedding she dreamed at him. "Isn't this a wonderful party?" she said. It was amazing. She could say the stupidest things and people that she was a witty conversationalist.

"It's a nightmare," he said, not appearing to find her conversation all that witty. Immediately, the truth slapped her, and she in turn slapped a hand over her big mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. This must be torture watching your ex-wife get married." And Daisy/Macey was exactly the sort of woman for whom a man would carry an eternal flame.

He glared at her in annoyance. "She won't get married if she doesn't believe you and I are crazy in love. So would you stop drooling on everything in pants and start drooling on me?"

Her mind was feeling a little hazy. It was thirsty work. All this flirting and she was wondering if she might be one flute short of an orchestra. Or maybe that should be one flute too many. She'd stick with water at dinner, she decided. In the meantime she tried to work out what Zach meant. "I don't understand what's going on. Are you still in love with her?"

"No!" He pulled her aside and in a low voice said, "This guy's her fourth groom. She went to some astrologer who I would personally love to strangle. This quack told her that she'd already met the love of her love but she threw him away. She got it into her head that, that man was me."

She'd seen Zach and Macey together. Both were gorgeous, larger than life. They were Clark Gable and Carole Lombard.

"Maybe the astrologer was right."

He shook his head. "Our marriage was a disaster."

"Still, you've never married again."

"I'm smarter now." He glanced behind Cammie and his eyes narrowed. "Uh-oh, here she comes. If I know that look, and I do, she's planning something crazy. Like not getting married so she can run off with me. Remember, this is your fault."

As she opened her mouth to ask what exactly was her fault, he kissed her.

Oh my…

AND I KNOW YOU GUYS WANT TO KILL ME BUT DON'T WORRY IF I GET 10 REVIEWS OR MORE I WILL UPDATE ASAP!

WELL THAT'S ALL GUYS IT'S 12 IN THE MORNING AND I KNEW I JUST HAD TO FINISH THE CHAPTER I WANT AT LEAST 10 REVIEWS BEFORE I UPDATE AGAIN I HAVE A BUSY WEEK AHEAD OF ME SO MIGHT NOT UPDATE FOR A WHILE BUT WHEN I DO I WANT TO HAVE AT LEAST 10 MORE REVIEWS! OH AND THE LAST PART OF THE WEDDING WILL BE THE NEXT CHAPTER! AND I KNOW THIS WEDDING IS LONG BUT EH ITS WORTH IT!