My Quickie Wedding (Heartbreak Hotel Book 3)

by Christie Ridgway

  “I’m afraid I’ve committed to a whole one-eighty,” he said. “Going corporate and working most of the time at headquarters in LA.”

  “Oh.” Her disappointment couldn’t be more obvious.

  “So it’s not beyond the scope to think we might run into each other from time to time in the future,” he couldn’t help positing. “What with your brother looking to get pretty serious with my sister’s best friend.”

  Walking around him, Jojo shrugged. Then she directed her attention to the cooled cookies which she placed gently into a big, clear glass jar. “Turns out I’m pretty good with uncomfortable situations.”

  “Yeah?” He frowned, not liking the idea of Jojo discomforted at all—or more than the impulsive marriage had already. He’d been teasing about them running into each other. If there was the slightest possibility of that in the years to come, he’d make excuses to miss an event or remove himself from the premises if it happened by accident.

  Unless there was a wedding. If Alec married his new love interest, Con would be obliged to attend that, because Lilly was like a little sister to him. And she showed up at most of the Montgomery family holiday get-togethers. While he hadn’t been around much in recent years, that was changing. He could see it now, at his parents’, all those Fourths and New Years and Thanksgivings with Lilly and Alec on hand and Jojo a few feet away, tantalizing him with her loveliness, with her scent, with the memories that were likely going to taunt him for the rest of his life.

  “I’m afraid it’ll be weird,” he said, thinking aloud. “What if it’s Christmas eve and we both show up and…” She’d have some guy hanging all over her, one with soft hands who watched her with puppy dog eyes. It didn’t bear thinking of, except he couldn’t stop himself and it made his chest ache and his gut burn.

  “And?” she prompted, her attention on the baked goods, her beautiful face hidden from him.

  “…and I have a date,” he finished lamely. With someone who wouldn’t entice into an impromptu marriage.

  “I won’t bat an eyelash,” Jojo said.

  “But—”

  “Apparently you don’t know me either, Con,” she said. “I shared a house with my ex-husband and his lover for almost a year.”

  “What?” She was married before?

  “Of course, I didn’t know they were lovers at the time and we were still married, but when it all came to light I handled myself quite well, I’ll have you know.”

  Her back was to him as she continued to fuss with the cookies. It only took a few steps to reach her. “Jojo.”

  “All very civilized. Convivial, even.” She rubbed the tip of her nose with a forefinger, then waved her whole hand as if clearing a desk. “Five years, swept away like they never really happened.”

  “Jojo.” He held her by the shoulders and spun her to face him. “What—”

  “But I don’t want to talk anymore about my first marriage,” she said, cool as you please, though he could feel her trembling again, and he could see the vulnerability deep in her dark eyes. “We should discuss how we’re going to end ours.”

  And suddenly Con knew it wasn’t going to be that simple. No way was he going to be another man easily brushing off her and what they’d had together—as brief as it might be.

  If it was stupidly reckless to rush into a wedding, then surely it was doubly stupidly reckless to rush into a divorce.

  Chapter 4

  Jojo stared up at the big man, trying to pretend the touch of his hands wasn’t sending goose bumps racing across her skin. The searching look in his blue eyes as he studied her face unsettled her. Swallowing hard, she made to move away, but his fingers tightened their hold.

  “If I’d known you had that in your past,” he began, shaking his head. “That night I—”

  “I don’t want to talk about that night, either,” she interrupted. “Actually, I hardly remember it anyway.”

  “Truly?”

  She rubbed the tip of her nose. “It’s a blur, really.”

  Con’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t have that much to drink.”

  “I’m a lightweight. I was tired. The whole night is hazy—maybe because of all the excitement over my parents’ anniversary celebration.”

  Even to her own ears her excuses sounded as flimsy as tissue paper. She wanted to check on how he was swallowing her fib, but she could only stare at the top of his shoulder. Feeling the weight of his gaze, the tip of her nose started itching again.

  She rubbed there, and cleared her throat. It was time to get him on his way. Out of the Blue Jay B & B first, then out of her life second. “So, our next step in ending this debacle should be—”

  “You’re a terrible fibber,” he said.

  Her eyes shot upward, noting the small smile curving his handsome mouth. “What?”

  “You might be good at blackjack, kitten, but you have a tell that would make you lousy at a poker table.” He brought his hand to his nose.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Now hers itched like crazy and she curled her fingers into fists so as not to touch it. Was Con right? Did that explain why her brothers always won all her toothpicks when they played seven-card stud?

  His hands were still on her as he leaned toward her, his voice lowering in a conspiratorial manner. “Just forget the falsehoods, baby. I’m certain you remember our wedding night as well as I do.”

  “Whatever you want to think,” she said, striving for a haughty tone. “It’s neither here nor there anyway.”

  “I think the truth is always important,” he put in, then stroked the edge of his thumb over her cheekbone.

  She batted it aside. “I can’t think when you do things like that.”

  He grinned, though he moved off, giving her space. “Now that’s getting to the heart of the matter.”

  “The heart of the matter is dealing with this…this situation we find ourselves in.”

  “Debacle was your word for it,” Con added helpfully.

  The amused expression on his face made her want to scratch him like the kitten he called her. Squashing the dangerous urge—something she should have done the night they first met—she plodded on. “Lawyers. I have one, but he was kind of pricey. Maybe if we go in together and explain…”

  Her thought processes stalled. How the heck to explain to anyone?

  “That we took one look at each other and both felt like we’d been struck by a steel beam?”

  “Um…”

  “That I pursued you at your parents’ anniversary dinner and you didn’t run very fast in the opposite direction.”

  “I tried to avoid you,” she whispered.

  “Sure, that’s what it’s called when you tagged along with the group I was with heading into the bar. Same with not taking off to your own room when everyone else vamoosed, leaving just me and you, the both of us feeling lucky.”

  She made a face, though heat was crawling up her neck. “You thought you’d get lucky that night.”

  “Damn right,” he said instantly. “I hoped so, anyway. Didn’t you?”

  Jojo briefly closed her eyes. “Con…”

  “At least admit you remember the kiss after the guy in the suit and tie pronounced us man and wife. Our first kiss. The first of many kisses we shared.”

  “Con…” she said, shaking her head.

  “To hell with it.” On a muffled sound of frustration, he closed the small distance between them. His arms went around her. His breath puffed against her lips. “I’ll just make damn sure you never forget this one.”

  And then he kissed her.

  The touch sparked an electric current that shot through Jojo’s body. Her fists clenched tighter as a blast of heat rolled through her. Oh, God.

  Then Con’s tongue stroked the seam of her lips and she yielded, opening to him even as her hands rose to grasp the sides of his shirt at his waist. One of his palms slid down her back, to possessively cup the curve of her butt and draw her closer to him.

  He groaned,
the sound raw, and pushed his tongue deep into her mouth, a staking-claim kind of kiss. Jojo’s head spun and her knees softened, but the broad expanse of his chest was there to support her. She’d found his strength and size appealing from first glance and they were even more intoxicating now that she knew how he felt beneath her hands and over her body.

  In her body.

  She shivered and he ran a soothing hand down her spine. But that gentle stroke combined with the aggressive thrusting of his tongue only served to send another blast of desire through her. Her nipples tightened to hard beads and she felt her sex swell and dampen.

  Trouble, a voice whispered from deep inside her. You’re sinking deeper into trouble.

  At the thought, she managed to tear her mouth away from his, her hands coming between them to push at his chest.

  It only moved his body a couple of inches but it was enough to allow her a ragged breath. Con stared down at her, his face hard, his mouth wet.

  She wanted to jump his bones.

  Shoving aside yet another dangerous impulse, she sucked in more air then backed away. “You need to go now,” she said firmly. “In a few days, I’ll contact you and we’ll handle the details.”

  From a distance. Because, obviously, when they were in a room together neither one of them thought clearly.

  Con’s handsome face seemed to go even harder. “Jojo—”

  “Hello?” someone called from a distance. “Yoo-hoo! It’s the Statlers here to check in.”

  A distraction, Jojo thought. Good. “I’ve got to handle this,” she said, already heading for the foyer and the small desk there that served as the reception area. “I’ll talk to you soon, Con.”

  In the front space was a small crowd of people. Jojo frowned in dismay. From what she could recall, the Statlers were supposed to be an extended family grouping of six. There had to be at least sixteen people of various ages milling about.

  She cleared her throat. “Excuse me? Who should I talk to?”

  An athletic blonde in hiking shorts and a visor held up her hand and offered a winning smile. “I’m sure hoping you can accommodate a small change in our original plans.”

  Small change, indeed.

  The Statler party had increased in size by ten and were expecting an additional group of four to show up any minute. “I know we took a chance,” the woman said. “But we’ve arrived midweek before and found open rooms. It’s just for two nights.” Another winning smile.

  Jojo thought of the stack of laundry and the unmade beds and that no one else was expected besides the Statlers. Most of the Blue Jay’s business was on the weekends and it would be a terrible idea to turn away guests. A hospitality business couldn’t afford to do that.

  “All right,” she said, her eye running over the piles of backpacks and duffels scattered throughout the foyer. She explained about Aunt June being laid up. “So it’s going to take me a while to prepare the beds and stock the bathrooms with fresh towels.”

  “We can take a short hike,” a man offered. “Give you some time. The kids are also eager to play on the tire swing and see if they can spy turtles and frogs in your pond like last summer.”

  “Okay, great,” Jojo said, and three kids were already running out the front door, their whoops of ecstasy making her grin despite the hard work ahead. “I’ll get right on preparing your rooms.”

  She spun around, intending to head for the linen closet only to come up against the wall of Con’s chest. Bracing herself against it, she frowned up at him. “You’re still here?”

  “How many beds?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “How many beds does the Statler party require?”

  Her mind went to work. “Six rooms, no eight, just in case.” She bit her lip, thinking which rooms had king mattresses, which had two doubles. “That means eleven beds.”

  “I’ll get the sheets,” Con offered, and began to move.

  “Wait.” Her fingernails dug into the soft cotton of his shirt. The heat of his skin beneath was impossible to ignore but she made herself focus. “What are you doing?”

  “I know where at least some of the sheets are. I’m proposing to get them then help make up the beds.”

  Jojo straightened her spine. “Con—”

  “Jojo.” He grabbed her shoulders again and gave her a little shake. “Consider me your gift horse.”

  “Con—”

  “You have rooms to ready and guests to make comfortable. An aunt who seems fine but who will need to be checked on throughout the day. And now an extra pair of willing hands.”

  That were attached to one stubborn, handsome, fabulous-kissing husband.

  “You know you want to say yes,” the maddening man said now.

  “And hasn’t that been the very problem from the beginning,” Jojo replied, her tone dry. Then she sighed. “But go ahead, gift horse. Giddyup.”

  The rest of the day became a blur. She passed Con dozens of times on the stairs as they toiled to make beds, ready bathrooms, and then carry up the Statlers’ sizeable amount of luggage. Too soon it was time to present afternoon tea—with lemonade and hard ciders offered as well—along with the cookies and small sandwiches.

  Finally, the newcomers tromped out the front door to take a last short hike before heading out to dinner in town. Jojo carried the empty tea tray into the kitchen and found Con there, stacking plates in the dishwasher.

  She slid the tray on the table and threw herself into a chair. The man would have to be leaving soon if he didn’t want to risk getting lost again in the mountain dark. Closing her eyes, she let herself rest a moment before jumping up to hurry him on his way.

  “Here, baby,” a voice rumbled and she found a wineglass nudged into her hand. She stared at its ruby-colored contents then lifted her gaze to Con’s.

  “Thanks,” she said. Taking a sip of the tart and smoky liquid, she shut her eyes again. “How can twenty-two guests feel like one hundred twenty-two?”

  She heard him chuckle.

  “How am I going to do it?” she murmured, exhausted.

  “Not alone,” Con said.

  Her eyes flew open and she took in his determined expression. “I’ll be your partner until your aunt June gets back on her feet.”

  Chapter 5

  Carrying his small suitcase, Con entered the kitchen and met Jojo’s gaze. “All my stuff is cleared out and the bed made with fresh sheets.” The first night at the Blue Jay he’d had a room on the third floor. But more unanticipated arrivals this late afternoon made it necessary for him to move, into the separate building known as the Tower where Jojo slept, a structure he’d only glimpsed amongst the trees.

  She gave him a faint smile as she continued to stir some concoction in a heavy striped bowl. “I’m going to owe you a lot after this.”

  “Yeah.” He glanced over at the youngsters ringing the newspaper-topped kitchen table, all kneeling on chairs. “What’s going on?”

  “Their parents are on a wine-tasting adventure and I offered to watch the kids for a couple of hours.”

  Peering into the bowl, he frowned at the grassy-green goop inside. “Are you planning on poisoning them?”

  “It’s not to eat, silly,” a bright-haired tot said. “It’s play dough. You make stuffs with it.”

  “Ah.” Con took an empty seat and looked at Jojo expectantly. “I want to make stuffs.”

  Several minutes later they each had rounds in front of them—blue, red, and green. The kids went to town with it, molding turtles, birds, and something called “Bart poopie.” Bart, a seven-year-old towhead took exception to the creation and the activity almost became a free-for-all until Con stepped in. Using the dough of different colors, he concocted a kind of tabletop bocce ball tournament.

  Boys against girls.

  “We can talk trash,” he said, “but no mention of poopie, or it’s game over.”

  The kids became enthusiastic about the game and kept themselves entertained while the two adults mostly observe
d. He glanced at Jojo to see her watching him with a little smile on her face. “What?” he asked.

  She shrugged, then helped one of the girls whose marble-sized piece of play dough had lost its circular shape. “You’re pretty,” the little kid said to Jojo when she handed back a perfect orb.

  “Truer words,” he murmured in agreement. She looked in her element, with her glossy hair disheveled and a dash of flour on her chin. Her cheeks were flushed and her pouty mouth glistened from where her tongue had slipped out to moisten it.

  If they didn’t have an audience, he would have taken her into his lap and taken those lips. The woman just did things to him, made him feel horny and heated and smiley and hopeful.

  It was fucking weird and he was glad to have these extra couple days to nail down what it was exactly so that he could recover from it.

  One of the little poppets put her hand on Jojo’s arm. “Mommy—” she stopped, looking confused. “Are you a mommy?”

  “No, sweetness,” Jojo said, smiling.

  Con could see her with a couple of kids—dark-haired charmers with that same smile. “You’ll make a great one,” he heard himself say.

  She glanced over. “Any guy who can invent play dough bocce on the fly will make an excellent dad.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Con shook his head.

  Just then, the parents of the kids arrived on the scene to collect their progeny. It was their last night at the Blue Jay and they’d brought back burgers, fries, and shakes, enough to share with Jojo, Connor, and Aunt June. Once they’d served the older lady—who’d been enjoying her recuperation with a stack of George R.R. Martin novels—he and the stand-in proprietor headed for the tower structure where they would be spending the night together.

  “I’m sorry again,” Jojo said as she held the door open for him. “I think Aunt June must have run some ads she doesn’t recall for us to have this sudden influx of midweek guests.”

  He looked around the square-shaped structure. It was an open plan, with a kitchenette, bed, and television on the first floor. A bathroom was in one corner and stairs led to a loft where he could see another mattress.