by C J Burright
On wobbling legs, she climbed the two steps to the podium and picked up his picture. “I can take a hint. Let the quest begin.”
* * * *
Ian took another swig of beer and attempted not to look surly. He propped an elbow against the improvised bar counter and pasted on a bored expression instead.
“Another one bites the dust.” Roman slid up beside him and clinked Ian’s bottle with his. The tuxedo couldn’t completely disguise his cop edge. Even without the weapons and badge, he exuded watchfulness, his gaze always alert and cutting, his relaxed pose a ruse. At the first sign of danger, he’d go off like a gun. “At least Garret picked a woman who can defend herself. Ethan’s still talking about her unconventional usage of an umbrella against Garret’s stalker. He’s tossing around the idea of a women’s self-defense class focused on making a weapon out of whatever happens to be lying around.”
Ian curled his lip rather than respond verbally and focused on the delusional duo still clinging to each other, even after the music had ended, as if no one else in the world existed. He didn’t care that Adara had been grieving for her brother, that Garret had forgiven her for pushing him away or that she’d apparently made it up to him by committing the rest of her life to their mutual happiness. She’d bruised his best friend’s heart, and that, he’d never forget.
Even if she basically thought he’d done the same to her best friend.
But his situation with Gia was completely different. Speaking of, Gia hadn’t returned to the reception. An uncomfortable twist sparked against his steel heart, trying to get in. So she’d ditched him on the dance floor. That was nothing his ego couldn’t bounce back from.
“Hey, guys.” Barak, the guitarist Garret had befriended overseas and who Ian had instantly filed into the ‘don’t-like’ category, joined them at the bar. He ordered a beer and mimicked Ian, elbows on the counter, gazing out at the crowd. “Have you seen Gia? She promised me a dance and I wheedled my way out of playing guitar in the next song.” He grinned, all musician suave, charismatic in his black tux. His English was clipped and perfect and the exotic accent had already won him a few hearts at the wedding rehearsal. Gia was undoubtedly too keen to join the ranks of his initial victims—just another reason Ian found her so captivating. “I am surely not allowing her to avoid her vow.”
Ian turned a dismissive look on him. “Take a tip from someone who knows her. You’re not her type.”
Barak’s black eyes glinted a challenge. “From what I saw, neither are you. But she danced with you anyway, and I am not one to surrender.” He took a casual sip of beer. “I heard she’s into musicians.”
“Not since Joey died,” Ian drawled. That corkscrew against his heart became a drill, a reminder of every non-musical bone in his body. Joey. Magical violinist, Gia’s lost love and the main obstruction to his unfinished business with the one woman he couldn’t get out of his head. He’d tried to exorcise her by dedicating himself to other women, sports and work, but no matter the attempted distraction, the failure had been complete. One night with Gia was all he needed. One night to get her out of his system and move on.
One night.
“I sense a wager opportunity.” Roman’s teeth flashed, a small smile that was all sorts of evil. “Guitar or not, bet a Ben that she lets Barak down easy and slides away so smoothly that he doesn’t even realize he’s been dismissed until she’s gone.”
Ian’s approval of Roman rose another peg. Maybe it was the wedding indignities he’d endured, the buzz of dark beer or the bruised dance-floor ego, but he added, “Bet you two she goes home with me instead.”
Roman arched his death-black eyebrows and widened his smile. “Easiest two hundred I’ve ever made, Boy Wonder.”
“Your lack of faith wounds me, Baconbits.”
Barak glanced between them, his drink halfway to his mouth, clearly wondering what he’d missed. Maybe men didn’t happily disparage each other across the sea. Garret should have brought him up better before extending an invitation to his wedding.
Ian plopped his bottle down and pushed away from the counter. “Later, Roman.”
Roman jerked his chin in farewell and tipped his beer back as Ian turned to leave.
“Was it something I said?” Drifting on the heels of Ian’s impending departure, Barak’s tone hinted at humor, a reflection of Garret’s effortless charm. Ian liked him even less for it.
“Probably,” Roman said, a shrug in his voice. “Are you in on the bet or not?”
Ian smirked and entered the empty hallway. Roman always had his back. Straightening his tie, he strolled away from all the things that reflected exactly what he didn’t want—long-term commitment, sharing life and scars with someone else, love and devotion and soulmates. For Garret, believer in all things fanciful and serendipitous, he had no doubt it would work. For him? Never.
As he passed the doors leading to the banquet room, a gleam of gold caught his eye and he backtracked. Her back to him, Gia sat among the abandoned decorations like a lost queen, black-and-silver ribbons lining the aisle, surrounded by red roses. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and waited for her to notice him.
Glitter Girl. He’d overheard one of their coworkers call Gia that and it fit. No matter the day, whether it was at the office, social gatherings or her best friend’s wedding, Gia always looked the part. Today, though, she was dressed in shimmering black, her blonde hair up to expose the lickable length of her delicate neck, and he was sharply reminded of their delicious backroom encounter at the holiday party going on two years now. Pleasure interrupted.
He’d intended to scorch Gia out of his system that night. Instead, she’d left a permanent burn in his lungs. His smirk faded. That burn had been there before Joey’s demise, when she’d been out of his reach. Now, it aggravated him with every breath.
He absently adjusted his straight tie again. There was only one way to alleviate an itch, and now that Adara was occupied with Garret, he had direct access to the cure. Keeping his steps light, he strolled between the decorated chairs and made it all the way to the second row without any sign from Gia that she knew he was there. Ian slipped into the chair behind her and leaned over her shoulder, close enough that her sweet perfume drifted into his lungs, reminding him of blue skies and spring days.
She held Joey’s picture in her lap.
That annoying twist in his chest reappeared. Joey, always blocking him, even from the grave. He narrowed his eyes on the image of his constant competition. Joey had been an unconventional violinist like Garret, adored by everyone. Musicians always got the girls.
Not this time.
He scanned Gia’s bare shoulders and had a strong urge to follow up with his finger. Until Adara had barged in on them, Gia hadn’t protested his touch. A year or so surely wouldn’t change her that much, no matter that they’d hardly talked since. According to Garret, she wasn’t dating anyone seriously, and despite the dance and ditch, there was no reason he could fathom that she wouldn’t want to pick up where they’d left off.
Lightly, he caressed her shoulder blade.
Gia yelped, jumped and spun in her seat. Her eyes wide and wild, she clutched Joey’s picture tight, hiding her lovely breasts. A shame. “Ian”—she sucked in a breath—“you jerk.”
Smirking again, he relaxed in the chair and spread his arms along the backrests. “Sorry.”
“Liar.” She plopped back down and pushed a loose wave of hair from her face. “Is the ‘true love’ and ‘forever’ mush too much for you?”
“Something like that.” He angled his chin at Joey’s picture still clutched to her chest. “Pining over lost love?”
She bit her delectable, pink-glossed lower lip. “Something like that.”
Damn. He was a jerk. Ian scrambled for the perfect words to smooth her feathers. “Garret makes it all look easy, doesn’t he?”
A tiny smile intruded on her sadness, and the knot in his gut eased. “Garret and A
dara remind me that love happens when you least expect it.”
“I see they got to you too.” Ian unleashed his shark smile. “Weddings are a virus, Gia. They infect suckers with the promise of happily ever after, but no one ever celebrates when the infection spreads and cripples the dream with real life.”
“Ian O’Connor”—she said his name like a curse—“do not speak that poison to the universe on Garret and Adara’s wedding day. It’s like wishing them bad luck or something.”
He rolled his eyes. “Have you met Garret Ambrose? The universe conspires to fulfill his every happiness. He’s immune to bad luck.”
Her gaze sharp and knowing, she studied him long enough to make him want to squirm, but he never buckled under pressure—not anymore. “Jealous, Mr. O’Connor?”
“Hardly.” He hated it when she called him ‘Mr. O’Connor’. It reminded him too much of his father, and he could do without thinking of that bastard ever again. “Garret can have Miss Crabapple, if that’s what he wants. Only he has the power to pry the princess of the north from her tower. I would’ve been content to leave her there.”
Gia twisted in the chair and laid her elbow on the backrest, watching him even closer. “You can’t stand it, can you? That fate and serendipity and true love actually exist, that love can overcome anyone’s secrets or darkness… Garret and Adara are in-your-face proof of it, and you can’t deal.”
“I don’t have to deal.” He put on his bored face. “If people want to delude themselves into believing marriage is the key to happiness, that’s their choice. No one’s going to force me to drink the Kool-Aid.”
Lifting her empty wine glass, Gia grinned. “I prefer wine, anyway.”
“I thought it was margaritas.” Blood pumped hard to all of his best places. Her lips had tasted of tequila and lime that night, and he’d had far too many fantasies about them. That was a drink he’d savor, always.
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “People change.”
“No, they don’t.” He leaned forward, holding her gaze. “They pretend to change, hope to change, but true nature only bends before bouncing back.”
“You’re such a cynic,” she said softly, not moving as he inched ever closer to the mouth that had haunted him for years, the mouth he had to get out of his head, one way or another. “People evolve all the time. If we didn’t, we’d never survive.”
“I’ve survived just fine.” He trailed a fingertip along her bare arm, reveling in the softness of her skin, the tremor that rolled through her. He hadn’t forgotten how she’d responded the same way to his touch before. He was even less likely to forget now.
“Not all of us are as stuck in their ways as you.” She dipped her eyelashes, hiding her summer-sky eyes.
A few inches from her mouth, he paused. “Adara will be gone on her honeymoon in a few hours.” His voice was husky with growing need, the memories of his brief and not nearly long enough encounter with Gia an urgent tug. “She won’t be around to interrupt.” On a whim, he turned her hand over and pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of her wrist. The rapid thrum of her pulse danced against his lips. “I haven’t forgotten that night.”
Her eyes closed, Gia exhaled, but before he swooped in for contact with her lush, pink mouth, she pulled her arm gently free of his grasp and leaned back. “Tempting as that is, I have to decline.”
“Actually, you don’t.” He made his tone a smooth, coaxing caress. “We’ll see them off as the admirable and dutiful maid of honor and best man we are. Then we can pick up where we left off at my place. No declining necessary. No one else has to know, if that’s what you want.”
“What I want…” She bit her lower lip again, and everything from his scalp to his toes throbbed in anticipation. After a lingering pause, she shook her head. “You were right about the Kool-Aid. I drank it, and it gave me an epiphany.” She dropped her gaze to Joey’s picture on the seat beside her. “I temporarily forgot who I am, but I’m not going back to that girl who seeks solace with men who believe my purpose lies mainly in the bedroom.”
“That’s not how I think of you.” And, surprisingly, he meant it, for the most part—no matter that his relationships never spanned more than one night. True, he wanted Gia, but unlike the other women he pursued or let pursue him, he didn’t mind talking to her, which was why he generally avoided her at the office and chose to admire her from afar. Talking to a woman without ulterior motives would ruin his reputation and might make him want something more.
That was a danger he could never allow.
Enjoyable conversation or not, he still needed to burn Gia out of his system.
“Whatever.” She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him, even a little. “I’ve moved on to the next chapter in Gia’s book of trials and errors. No more casual, no more flings, no more online dating, no more margaritas. I’m going to figure out how to impact the world in my own way while waiting for my personal Prince Charming to show up and sweep me off my feet, because me looking for him hasn’t turned out so great.” She patted his cheek—affectionately, not in the sex-kitten way he preferred. “And I know for a fact that Ian O’Connor ain’t him.”
“I’ll file a formal protest. I have a family suit of armor and various weaponry at my house. I’d be happy to show you all my swords, too.” He wriggled his eyebrows so she’d know exactly what sword he wanted to show her most. He dropped his voice to a purr, one women didn’t resist. “Invitation still stands—my house, a bottle of wine or two, the rest of the weekend to demonstrate the merits of no armor or clothing of any kind.” So it was one more day than he’d agreed. He suspected he’d need it with Gia.
She blinked, and it didn’t take his persuasion skills to decipher that she was imagining them together, with or without armor, absolutely with a sword. Her gaze refocused and she shook her head. “Good lord, you’re a terror, in and out of the courtroom.” She stood and stepped beyond his reach, a golden angel wrapped in sinful black. “Go use your silver tongue on someone else. This princess has downed a sleeping potion and refuses to wake up for anything but the right kiss.”
“It’s been over a year. Memories fade.” A strange sense of urgency rose, as if he were a dying man in need of an organ and the donor had bailed at the last second. He’d been banking on this moment to get her out of his system, out of his thoughts for good. “Maybe you’ve forgotten how right I am.”
Gia laughed.
It was his turn to blink. She laughed, as if he’d made a cute joke, not asked her to spend the weekend with him exploring every pleasure they’d missed out on earlier. He hid a scowl behind calm composure. Nothing about him was cute.
“I already know how wrong you are for me, Ian, but don’t worry. There are at least five lovely ladies at the singles table sighing over you.” She winked. “You’ll be fine without me.”
He’d never claimed he wasn’t wrong for her long term, just not wrong for this particular moment, and random wedding guests weren’t the ones edging into his thoughts at every inconvenient turn. He crossed his arms and gave her his best cut-throat stare while he slid through possible ways of keeping her close enough to change her mind. He smiled benignly. “Want to help me put lewd and suggestive decorations on Garret’s car?”
“You’re so far behind the game.” She flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture as she floated by, heading for the door. “I did that over an hour ago.”
He smirked at her back, watching the seductive sway of her hips until she slipped out of sight. Laughing softly, he faced the stage again, needing time to cool off before returning to the reception. Scandalizing old ladies wouldn’t help him reach his goal of rising to partner at the firm of Hamilton & Associates. His smirk widened. Rising. Firm. He was on fire.
“Just passed Gia on her way out. Alone.” Roman’s smug voice came from the doorway. “Pay up, Boy Wonder.”
Digging in his pocket for his wallet, Ian rose and strolled toward his friend. He ignored Roman’s self-satisfied
smile and slapped two one-hundred-dollar bills into his waiting palm. “The best cases can’t be stopped by frivolous motions…only delayed.”
Roman scrutinized the money as if checking to make sure it wasn’t counterfeit, then stuffed it into his shirt pocket. “Someone has to steer the wheels of justice. It might as well be us.” He slung an arm around Ian’s shoulders as they walked out together. “I’ll buy you a drink when this is over. I’m suddenly feeling generous.”
“Someplace they won’t spit in our cups, Baconbits.” Since the offer Ian wanted had been tabled for now, he might as well get some of his lost winnings back. “And wings.”
“Sure.” Roman gave him a sly look. “Since the legs are out.”
Ian let Roman have his laugh. They both knew that if he didn’t want to go home alone tonight, he wouldn’t. But no one else could erase the lingering taste Gia had left behind in his mouth.
Maybe it’s time to switch trial tactics.
Order your copy from
Totally Bound Publishing
First For Romance
Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk
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About the Author
C.J Burright is a native Oregonian and refuses to leave. A member of Romance Writers of America and the Fantasy, Futuristic & Paranormal special interest chapter, while she has worked for years in a law office, she chooses to avoid writing legal thrillers (for now) and instead invades the world of paranormal romance, fantasy, and contemporary romance. C.J. also has her 4th Dan Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do and believes a story isn’t complete without at least one fight scene. Her meager spare time is spent working out, refueling with mochas, gardening, gorging on Assassin’s Creed, and rooting on the Seattle Mariners…always with music. She shares life with her husband, daughter, and a devoted cat herd.
