The Best Man's Bride

by Jamie Dallas

  “Incredible,” he admitted. His shoulders relaxed as they clinked the glasses together. “I think this one will be even more successful than the last two.”

  The trill of nerves and anxiety he associated with a launch ran through him. One more success on his record, one more reminder that his parents missed out.

  “Your family must be proud,” Hailey said, sipping her wine.

  His throat grew tight. Even decades later, it still bothered him.

  But he forced his eyes to stay on her. He didn’t flinch. Years of practice had made the steel walls slide down automatically.

  Hailey carefully set her glass down. “Did I say something wrong?”

  He realized he was gripping the slender stem.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” He set the glass down before he snapped the stem in half. “I was raised by my aunt. And, yes, she is proud.”

  Her dark eyes widened. “Oh, I’m so sorry to assume. I just—”

  “It’s no big deal.” He grabbed the napkin and pulled it over his lap. “Besides, my aunt is the coolest woman on this planet.”

  Hailey cracked a smile. “I’m sure she is. Have you seen her since you’ve been back?”

  “I try to visit twice a month. It’s nice to be close to home.”

  “That’s great you get to see her. I kind of miss my family back home. They’ve been so supportive during the breakup with Evan.”

  She seemed to be taking it pretty well.

  “At some point,” she continued, “I’m going to have to get all my stuff from him.”

  “If he hasn’t tossed it already.”

  Hailey mouth pulled to the side. “Good point.” She took a sip of wine. “You know, you don’t talk much about—”

  He knew where that question was going. His aunt. His parents. He cringed, waiting for her to finish.

  Nothing.

  “Speak of the devil,” Hailey murmured.

  Jace looked up.

  Her rosy cheeks were devoid of any color.

  “I think I saw Evan.” Her face was tense, and her eyes wide, as though she were struggling to spot him.

  Jace cursed under his breath. “Maybe he didn’t see us.”

  “No,” her voice was laced with panic. “He saw me. We made eye contact. Then he started walking—” She turned toward the entrance. “Oh no. Here he comes.”

  Sure enough, his business partner was walking toward them. One hand was in his pocket and a tight smile was on his face.

  Jace thought of a few choice words and stood from the table, feet apart, arms crossed.

  “Jace, Hailey,” Evan said. He clapped Jace on the shoulder. “Please don’t stand on my account.” Evan slid into the booth right next to Hailey.

  Hailey shifted to the other end of the booth until her arm pressed against the wall. Evan’s shoulder brushed Hailey’s arm, and she jerked away, hunching her body inward.

  Great. Just what he needed on his non-date night. More drama.

  Jace gritted his teeth and sat down. “What brings you here?”

  Evan smiled, but his eyes were hard. He jerked on the sleeves of his gray suit jacket. “I was passing by and thought I would check on the building progress. Then I saw Hailey in the window.” He glanced between the two of them. “Is this a date?”

  Jace almost said yes, he wanted to more than anything, but Hailey beat him to the punch.

  “No,” she muttered. “A business meeting.”

  “Are you sure?” His voice had a sharp, mocking tone that set Jace on edge. Judging by the hard expression on Hailey’s face, she was no stranger to this tone.

  “Positive,” she snapped, her spine straightening. “We’re talking about next week’s cocktail party.”

  Evan’s eyes slid over Hailey, as though assessing her dark blue dress and her curly red hair. Hailey fidgeted with her shoulder strap and looked down at the table.

  “Are we seriously wasting our time with this event? It’s not worth it.” He grabbed her wine, swirled it in the glass, and took a drink.

  Hailey’s eyes went big and soft, and she shrunk her shoulders in farther, as though trying to fold into herself.

  Enough was enough. Evan was being an asshole extraordinaire. He knew it, Hailey knew it, even Evan, deep down, had to know it.

  Jace leaned forward in the booth, resting his arms on the white tablecloth.

  “You must have missed the email,” he told Evan, keeping his voice low and controlled. “We sponsored a table and will be attending next week.”

  Evan tapped a blunt fingernail against the table. “Aren’t there better things to attend than a dull networking event?”

  Jace opened his mouth, ready to let Evan have it, when the waiter showed up.

  “Oh,” the waiter said, looking at the three of them. “I hadn’t realized there was another in the party. The booth is too small for three. I can bring a chair.”

  “No need,” Hailey said, straightening. “Evan here is on his way out.”

  Jace couldn’t help but smile. Hailey had hit Evan’s one weak point—he never made a scene in public.

  Evan’s sharp grin morphed into a sneer. “I hope this little event is a success. I won’t be attending.”

  “Then please don’t bother putting it on your calendar,” Hailey said smoothly. “We’ll see you at the launch party.”

  Evan’s expression darkened.

  Jace tensed, fists clenched, ready to protect Hailey if necessary.

  The waiter cleared his throat. “Excuse me, are you ready to order?”

  Evan completely ignored the man.

  “Hailey, dear,” he said, his voice shifting to an oily drawl. “You have been a feisty one lately. If you get a chance, let’s have a chat. A friendly one. I’d love to hear why you left me cold at the end of an aisle. Maybe we could sort things out.”

  “Right,” Hailey muttered, her shoulder still pressed against the wall and her arm wrapped over her stomach. Her wary gaze never left Evan.

  Evan nodded at Jace, and with one last look at the two of them, eased himself out of the booth. The waiter stepped back, and Evan left the restaurant, his back rigid and his shoulders squared.

  Hailey’s eyes remained on him until he passed by the window.

  “Should I give you another minute?” the waiter asked.

  “Yes,” Jace said. Hailey’s mood had dimmed visibly, and he wanted to make sure she was all right.

  “The cocktail party idea is genius,” he said. “And if it doesn’t work, it was still worth a shot.”

  “I know it’s good,” Hailey said. She shifted to the center of the booth and pushed the wineglass away from her. “Even Evan thinks it’s good.”

  Jace hesitated. “How do you know?”

  Hailey mimicked the way Evan had tapped his finger against the tablecloth. “He has his tells when he’s lying.”

  “Ignore him. He’s upset.”

  “I know he’s angry. I embarrassed him in front of everyone. It’s just that I’ve never seen him this angry.” She shuddered. “If that’s a glimpse at what married life would have been, I’m glad I ran.”

  She toyed with the edge of the wineglass, not quite meeting his gaze and Jace worried that Evan intended some sort of payback.

  Evan’s arrival had sucked all the fun out of the evening and made a weird day even weirder. He could now see why Hailey had been so reluctant to stay for the launch.

  He racked his brain, trying to think of something that would lift her mood, or at least distract her.

  Then an idea struck him. Something that always helped him on a bad day.

  He reached over and placed his hand over hers. “Want to order our food to go and get out of here? I have an idea.”

  *

  The guitar was Jace’s idea. Hailey had no clue how the instrument was supposed to make her relax, but Jace promised it would, and she was willing to try.

  The shock of seeing Evan still hadn’t worn off. She felt helpless and small under his scrutiny, a
nd she had a feeling this wasn’t the last time she’d see Evan lash out.

  Jace stacked their empty dishes on the long coffee table. The spicy scent of Mediterranean food still lingered in the air, and their wineglasses were almost drained.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, feeling a bit apprehensive.

  Jace grabbed the guitar and seated himself next to her on the suede couch.

  Up close, the guitar was even more beautiful. The golden wood, darker at the edges and fading to a lighter color in the center, was warm and inviting.

  Setting the instrument on his lap, Jace flicked his thumb over a steel string before he twisted one of the little silver knobs at the top off the guitar.

  He could tune it by ear! She’d always wanted to be able to do something like that.

  “I’m jealous you know how to play an instrument,” she said, not bothering to hide the envy in her voice.

  “You never learned?” His voice was low, letting her know he was concentrating.

  She shook her head. “We couldn’t afford it.”

  “Now here’s your chance.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her.

  His thigh brushed her leg as he passed the guitar over, sending a skitter of warmth up her body.

  “Here you go.” His breath feathered against the shell of her ear.

  Clearing her throat, she cradled the instrument in her lap and wrapped her fingers around the worn neck. The wood was warm and light in her hands, and she felt both awed and intimidated by the well-loved instrument. She was positive that she was holding it wrong, touching it wrong, doing it wrong. She wanted to pass it back to Jace.

  “This is a pick.” Jace held up a triangular piece of brown plastic. “Hold it like this.”

  He demonstrated before passing the pick to her.

  She tried to match his hold.

  “No, like this.” He leaned over, grabbed her fingers, and repositioned the pick. The light calluses on his fingers brushed over her soft palm, and the scent of Jace and laundry detergent surrounded her.

  His body heat was coming off in waves, making every nerve in her body go into hyperawareness mode. Every inch of her knew just how close, and how far, he was from her.

  He was her client, she reminded herself firmly. Her sexy, attractive client.

  “How old were you when you started playing?” she asked, trying to focus her attention back on the guitar.

  “Eight.” He positioned her right hand on the neck. There was a pause before he added, “My aunt gave me this guitar a few years after I moved in with her.”

  She tried to imagine a young Jace going through this exact same process on this very same guitar.

  “What happened to your parents?” she asked softly.

  For a fleeting second, Jace’s fingers tightened on hers. Just as quickly, he released her hand. Without looking up, he positioned her left hand over the strings, his movements quick and efficient.

  She stared at the top of his dark head as the silence stretched out. Maybe he just decided to ignore the question.

  “They weren’t around,” he said finally.

  They weren’t around? Like they passed away? She opened her mouth to ask, but then another thought hit her.

  What if they left him?

  This was a new layer of Jace she had never known before. Something about his stiff shoulders and wary expression made her want to reach out and touch him, to soften him. As though she could comfort him like he was comforting her.

  “Okay,” Jace said, changing the subject. “Let’s start with a couple chords. We’ll keep the lesson short since you don’t have calluses on your fingers and the strings will start to hurt.”

  His smile slowly eased its way back as he explained each part of the guitar to her. And as Jace started in on chords, she shoved her questions to the back of her mind.

  He shifted closer as he spoke.

  “Place your fingers here,” he said as she tried to figure out the C chord.

  “Not quite,” he added as she struggled to stretch her fingers to the right position. “Here.” Jace wrapped his arm around her, positioning their bodies so he could place a hand around the neck.

  She was now practically in his lap, his body pressed against hers as he placed her fingers around the neck of the guitar.

  She arched against him, the movement so miniscule that Jace may not have noticed, but she could feel the press of his chest against her back.

  Heat rushed through her body, pooling low in her belly. Suddenly she didn’t care about the guitar or Evan. She only cared about the feel of Jace’s body wrapped around hers, his warmth seeping through her dress.

  “Hold the pick firmly, but not too tight.” The words may as well have been in another language with the amount of attention she was paying to them. But she didn’t miss the gravel in his voice, or the shiver of sensation as his breath stirred the curls around her ear.

  She tried to force her attention back to the guitar, honest she did. But Jace’s long fingers moving with ease, even with his arms wrapped around her, wasn’t helping.

  What would those fingers feel like on her? Playing her with the skill he played this guitar?

  “Now you try,” he murmured in her ear after placing her fingers.

  Her wrist felt weak as she ran the pick over the guitar. A beautiful note rang out. A note she had created.

  No wonder Jace loved his guitar. She had created a beautiful note on her own.

  Smiling, she turned toward him. “I love this…”

  The last word died on her lips as her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  Jace had a gorgeous mouth, firm and full. A mouth that would probably do amazing things to her body and mind.

  And it was so close, it would take next to nothing to lean in and kiss him.

  One corner of that delicious mouth quirked up.

  She forced herself to turn away and focus on the instrument. She shifted her body so that she wasn’t quite on Jace’s lap and worked on strumming the guitar with short, unpracticed movements until her fingers complained about the cut of the tight steel strings against her fingers.

  It required her sole focus. It forced her to slow down and think of what was right in front of her. It was the first time in a long time she let herself be imperfect and have someone next to her appreciate the moment not for its perfection, but for its imperfection.

  “That’s beautiful,” Jace said quietly. “You’ll pick it up quickly.”

  She smiled as she released the neck and showed him the angry purple-red indentations on her fingertips. “Probably not too quickly. My fingers are killing me.”

  “They’ll toughen up if you practice enough.” He grabbed her hand and inspected the dents.

  Like her. Getting tougher. “I like that.”

  Jace ran his thumb over the tips of her fingers. Each brush sent sensations spiraling through her body, as though he were running his hands over her entire frame instead of barely making contact.

  “Thanks for sharing that with me,” she whispered. Jace’s fingers were warm, firm, soothing.

  “Anytime,” he said, his voice husky. Then, as if she were in a dream, he raised her fingers to his lips and kissed the tips of each one. Each touch of his lips created a trail of fire from her fingers straight to her core. The soft look in his eyes heated to a molten steel that matched the heat and tension low in her belly.

  She wanted this man in a way she had never wanted anyone in her whole life.

  Maybe that was why she boldly traced his lower lip with her thumb. Part of her expected the firm curve to be hard as steel, but his lips softened at her touch. She liked that, loved that she could soften him for a moment. Hailey leaned forward, and before she could overthink it, replaced her fingers with her lips.

  He stiffened under the pressure of her lips.

  She started to pull back, excuses filling her mind and ready to tumble out of her lips.

  The
n Jace’s arm looped around her waist. He hauled her close, tightening his grip until she was trapped against his body.

  Every reason why they shouldn’t be doing this raced through her mind. She had just left Evan. Jace was her client. She shouldn’t be dating. She should exercise more control.

  Then Jace traced her lower lip with his tongue, followed by a nip, and all logic fled.

  She kissed him back, tasting the salty masculinity that was all Jace.

  How had she denied herself this pleasure for so long?

  She moaned as his tongue dipped into her open mouth, claiming her. He kissed her with the same utter control and expertise that approached everything else in his life.

  It was that control she wanted to snap.

  Lacing her fingers in his hair, she pulled her mouth from his, kissing his jaw, his neck, feeling the stubble of his beard scrape against her lips and cheeks.

  Jace pulled her onto his lap, and she shifted to straddle his thighs.

  Her soft core, clad only by her thin panties and a pair of tights, pressed against his slacks. There was no mistaking the solid bulge of his erection, and as Jace pulled her mouth back to his, she ground against him.

  Clothes. She needed to get rid of his clothes.

  She pulled his shirt free from his waistband, desperate to feel his skin against her hands.

  She hit an undershirt.

  She cursed under her breath as she worked to remove the second shirt.

  “Too many damn shirts.”

  Jace chuckled in response. A low, sexy sound that did very naughty things to very sensitive parts of her body.

  “Easy there, Hailey.” His hands touched hers, and she froze.

  It was like the light had flipped on.

  What was she doing?

  This was Jace. Her client.

  “Hailey?” Jace gathered her hair that had come free of its ponytail and pulled it over her shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

  No, everything was not okay. She was straddling Jace Hartman like some love-sick schoolgirl with her dress around her waist.

  Reeling, she scrambled off his lap and shoved her skirt over her hips.

  “Hailey?”

  She started gathering the dishes.