Big Sky Bride, Be Mine!

by Victoria Pade

“That’s as long as it’s been since you saw your brother, isn’t it?”

  Ian raised his glass in toast. “Good memory.”

  “Why did you leave the family business?” Jenna asked then, knowing she was prying. Sitting there so cozily drinking brandy, bone tired from working all day and dancing like mad all evening, she somehow didn’t have as many qualms about being nosy.

  “There was some family drama and some fallout from it,” he said.

  But that was all he offered. Jenna sipped her own brandy, hoping her silence might get him to say more.

  Instead, he went on talking about the path his career had been on, which was what she’d asked about in the first place. “That was before we got the NFL franchise. There was an opening in the head office of a floundering football team in Arizona. I was more than happy to switch from corporate business to the business end of football, so I took the job, lived in Phoenix for three years. And between me on the business end and a new coaching staff on the field, we put that team back on the map.”

  Jenna could see that he was proud of the accomplishment and raised her glass to clink against his in congratulations.

  Then she said, “So you were your own man for a while, and then you went back to doing your father’s bidding?”

  He laughed. “I’ve always been my own man. That isn’t something Hutch or I ever had a problem with, despite being twins, despite how much our father was involved in our lives—that’s what’s caused problems among the three of us.”

  But he still didn’t explain what those problems were.

  “And we all do the bidding of whomever is paying our salary,” he went on. “The fact that that person is my father is just a coincidence. I’m good at what I do—which I proved in Arizona—and I get offers all the time trying to lure me away from the Kincaid Corporation and now the Monarchs. If I wanted to, I could walk out tomorrow and pick and choose from half a dozen jobs—which is what I did six years ago.”

  “And then you came back….”

  “It’s family. We patched things up. And I wouldn’t pass up the chance to start from scratch with an expansion team like the Monarchs even if I didn’t have a personal interest in it.”

  “But it meant going back to work for your father….”

  He laughed again. “You’re really stuck on that, aren’t you? To tell you the truth, I actually have more freedom to say no to my father when I don’t agree with him because he’s my father. And I’ve never thought of my job as ‘doing his bidding.’ It isn’t as if I’m his henchman or something. Even right this minute, when he’s fine buying this property at auction, if you said you’d sell to us but at a premium price, I could and would put a check in your hand tomorrow.”

  “Because you don’t want the Monarchs to look bad. And since neither does your father—”

  “I’d put a big, fat check in your hand tomorrow, because I hate seeing you come up on the short end of this when you don’t have to.”

  “But I do,” she said stubbornly.

  “Because your dad got you to promise to do whatever you could to keep his farm a farm—so now which one of us is really doing their father’s bidding?”

  Jenna clinked glasses with him a second time, conceding that he had a point. Then they both finished their brandies and set the glasses on the coffee table.

  “Now tell me I was also right about tonight,” he commanded. “It was sooo much better to be there together and not as the stand-ins when one part of a couple needed to sit out a dance.”

  “Is this a roundabout way of asking me if I had a good time tonight?” she challenged.

  The mischief in his smile was answer enough, but still he said, “Did you?”

  “I did. But I already told you that it was nice not sitting on the sidelines, watching everyone else dance,” Jenna said, in weariness letting her head fall back against the sofa cushion.

  She’d twisted her hair into a French knot and left a geyser of waves at her crown, and while she hadn’t intended for that geyser of waves to hit his hand, they apparently did, because he began to toy with them.

  “I know that’s what you told me,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to be sure you had fun.”

  “Well, I did. Did you?”

  “Oh, yeah….” he said with a contented-cat smile as his gaze caressed her face. “Always….” he added in a near whisper.

  Then he leaned far enough forward that Jenna had only to tilt her head slightly away from the couch cushion to accommodate his mouth meeting hers.

  Fleetingly, it occurred to her that they shouldn’t be kissing again. But maybe she was just too tired to pay attention to that mental nay-saying, because all she could really focus on was the feel of his warm, supple lips parting over hers. And all she could manage to do was part her own lips in response and return that slow, languorous kiss, savoring it, savoring the warmth of him, the mingling of his brandied breath with her own, the talent he had for more than dancing. But she was tired, and that made it all the easier for her to close her eyes and merely float off on that kiss.

  She raised a hand to Ian’s sculpted jaw, savoring, too, the texture of his skin as he deepened that kiss, as his arm went around her, pulling her closer—much the way he had during that last dance at the church. Only this was even better.

  Jenna tipped her chin slightly more, taking another step in deepening that kiss, moving her hand to the back of his head, into the coarseness of his hair.

  His mouth opened wider over hers, and Jenna followed his lead, working to keep from moaning with pleasure at the massage he was doing between her shoulder blades, shedding even more of the shouldn’ts that tried to creep into her mind and instead relinquishing everything to that kiss, which was so sweet, so sensual, so all consuming that she devoted herself to it, to Ian.

  Their mouths opened even wider to form the passageway for tongues to meet, to circle and to frolic.

  Ian stopped fingering her hair and cradled her head in his hand, bracing her against the kiss that was growing more intense, more powerful, more potent.

  Oh, but it was such a great kiss!

  It was as if she were discovering kissing all over again. The way she had as a girl, when kissing had been new. Only this was so much better. Ian was so much better.

  And the same way it had felt only natural to lay her cheek to his chest when they’d danced, this also seemed right, perfect, as if they were both where they were meant to be, doing what they were meant to do. There was just something about this man that seemed to fit….

  She wanted it to go on forever, just the way they were—kissing, tongues jousting and playing, feeling his hair between her fingers, his palm cupping her head, his other hand at her back, her breasts against his chest, just kissing and kissing and kissing….

  And then maybe there could be more than kissing?

  Ohh…

  She must be too tired, a little voice somewhere in her brain warned her.

  Maybe there could be more than kissing?

  Where had that come from?

  Okay, she knew where it was coming from—from that sudden awareness of her breasts against his chest, from that kiss heating up and lighting sparks inside her.

  But more than kissing?

  Yes, sure, her body was crying out in favor of it.

  But she knew she was exhausted. And quite possibly not thinking straight. And she worried she’d lost her inhibitions the same way she hadn’t had qualms about being nosy earlier, about prying into Ian’s private business. If it went beyond kissing, it might be a mistake….

  The kissing was so, so great, though….

  She didn’t want it to end.

  And then Ian’s hand moved from her back to her side and as much as she just wanted him to keep going, to find his way under the crocheted hem of her sweater, to breasts that felt swollen inside of her bra, to nipples that had hardened into pebbles, she knew she shouldn’t—couldn’t—let this go any further.

  Her hand drifted out of his
hair, and she moved it to his chest, pressing her palm there with just enough firmness to relay the message.

  Still, he went on kissing her, exploring her mouth, teasing her tongue. He held her hand to his chest, gently coaxing her to yield to him.

  But just to make sure he was getting the message, Jenna cooled the kiss, too, sending her tongue on a retreat from the circle dance it had been doing with his.

  Ian gave in, slowly retracing the steps that had gotten them there until—to Jenna’s sorrow—the kiss ended.

  “Yeah,” he said with a raspier voice, obviously agreeing to stop, even if he didn’t want to any more than she did.

  Then, with a resigned sigh, he got up from the couch and held out a hand for her to join him.

  Without thinking about it, Jenna clasped his hand and stood up, letting him lead her to the front door.

  There was no reason for him to hold her hand the whole way, but he did. And she certainly didn’t balk. But once they got to the entry, he squeezed his fingers tightly around hers then let go, grabbing his jacket from the coatrack.

  He put on his coat and reached for the doorknob. Then he looked at her and smiled just before he clasped the back of her neck and brought her to him so he could kiss her again—a long, sexy kiss that made her knees weak.

  “I guess we better try not to have such a good time together, huh?” he joked as he freed her.

  “We’ll have to put a concerted effort into it tomorrow night,” Jenna confirmed, making him grin.

  “Yeah, we’ll have to,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

  Then they exchanged good-nights, and Ian let himself out.

  With her lips still warm from that parting kiss, Jenna stared after him.

  Working hard to recall why it was that she was supposed to deny herself something that she wanted so much.

  Chapter Eight

  “I don’t know why you’ve been watching the door all night, but you just missed someone coming in. Someone who looks just like you and I’m wondering if you’ve been expecting him….”

  “You noticed the door-watching, huh?” Ian said in response to Jenna’s comment. He had been watching the entrance to the new section of Adz—a special room behind the game area that could be reserved for private parties like tonight’s rehearsal dinner. But he’d gone to get Jenna one of the molten chocolate lava cakes for dessert, and during that time, his back had been to the doorway.

  Standing near the fireplace, Jenna merely pointed her chin in the direction of the door to urge him to take a look now.

  Despite that, it still wasn’t easy for him to pull his eyes away from her. Her hair was falling free and silky around her face. She was wearing a black lace turtleneck top that played peekaboo around a solid black camisole and a pair of black slacks that made his hands itch to reach out and pat her rump.

  But he knew that at that particular moment, he had to pull his attention away from Jenna and deal with the arrival of his brother.

  “Yeah, Hutch is coming to the wedding.” He told Jenna the news he’d known for most of the day. The news that he’d kept to himself because he’d realized that it was going to provoke a number of questions that he didn’t want to answer until he could tell Jenna—of all people—the whole story.

  “This is big, isn’t it?” she asked, those beautiful greenish-brown eyes of hers round with the curiosity he’d anticipated.

  “Big enough, I guess,” Ian answered. He handed her the lava cake and leaned in closer to her ear to whisper, “Save me a couple of bites of this, I’ll be back.” Then he left Jenna with the luscious dessert and turned to face the music. And the brother he hadn’t seen in nearly six years.

  The brother who was carrying a small child when Ian met them halfway.

  “Hutch,” he greeted simply.

  “Ian,” Hutch said in the same tone.

  When Chase and Shannon had contacted Ian, his long-lost brother and sister had asked how to reach Hutch. Ian had given them the last email address he had for his twin but had been clear about the fact that he and Hutch were on the outs.

  Since then, Ian was aware that Shannon and Chase had contacted Hutch—that they’d spoken to Hutch on the phone and emailed him, that Chase and Shannon had gone to meet him in Denver in February and that Shannon had invited him to her wedding.

  They’d been open with Ian about everything to do with Hutch, including the invitation and the fact that Hutch wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to make it to the wedding. When Hutch had decided at the last minute on Friday that he could, he’d emailed Ian directly.

  There had been little to the email except to say that he wouldn’t attend the wedding if it would cause any problems for Ian.

  But Ian had moved past the hard feelings that had caused the rift in the first place and decided that this coming together of siblings was a good time to bury the hatchet with Hutch, too. So Ian had emailed a reply to Hutch that he had no problem with seeing his twin at Shannon’s wedding.

  So it was no surprise to Ian that Hutch was there.

  It was, however, the first time Ian had laid eyes on Hutch’s child. The child Ian had only heard through the grapevine that his brother had had with the woman Ian had once been engaged to.

  “It’s good to see you,” Hutch finally said.

  “You, too,” Ian responded. “And this would be…” He glanced at the small boy slung on his brother’s hip.

  “Ash. Asher. Your nephew. Can you say hi, Ash?” Hutch asked his son. “This is your Uncle Ian.”

  The small child merely frowned at Ian and said nothing.

  “He’s not quite two and a half,” Hutch explained. “It takes him a little while to warm up.”

  “Hi, Asher. Nice to meet you,” Ian said to the child, ignoring his standoffishness.

  Asher’s only response was to put the two middle fingers of one hand in his mouth.

  Ian glanced back at Hutch. It was like looking at his own reflection in a mirror—somehow even their haircuts were similar. “I heard about Iris—only not until a month after her accident when I ran into her cousin. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. I kept the memorial private. There wasn’t even an obituary. I let her brother Dwayne know and he went from there notifying her family, but since we hadn’t talked to you or the old man in so long before that, I just decided—”

  “Yeah,” Ian said, putting himself in his brother’s shoes, knowing how awkward the situation was. This woman had caused a serious rift in their family; it didn’t seem likely that her death would be the catalyst for mending fences. “You could have, though,” he assured Hutch.

  “Yeah,” Hutch said, as if he knew that. “But I was kind of a mess and I did more withdrawing than reaching out to anybody. I didn’t really want to reach out to anybody….”

  Ian nodded his understanding.

  “Everything I hear about Dad says he’s doing well, though,” Hutch said then. “I’m sure he’s in his glory over finally getting his own football team.”

  “He is. But he’ll still be glad to see you,” Ian said.

  “That’s next on the list. Since Iris died I patched things up with Dwayne—he’s been beating himself up for losing the last years he could have had with Iris, and he wanted to get to know his nephew. It got me to thinking about all the time you and I have lost, all the time I’ve lost with the old man. Then there was Chase and Shannon coming out of the woodwork—”

  “Yeah, how was that for a shock? We had a brother and sisters all along?”

  “That took some sinking in,” Hutch said. “But it made me think even more about family, about reconnecting, about how Ash should know he’s a part of something bigger…. Anyway, I’ve been trying to find the right time. I wasn’t sure this was it, but then the weekend cleared unexpectedly and it seemed like a sign. So….”

  “I’m glad you came,” Ian said, meaning it. He hadn’t been sure if some residual resentment might rise to the surface when he saw his brother again, but
he was glad to find that there wasn’t any. So he said what was going through his mind. “What happened is in the past. I know I did my share of being out of line—there was no real reason you and Iris couldn’t get together, she and I were history at that point, and I don’t have any hard feelings. If you don’t—”

  “I don’t,” Hutch said.

  “Then let’s just put it behind us.”

  Hutch held out his hand. “And move on.”

  Ian accepted his twin’s outstretched hand and shook it.

  Seeing that, Asher held out his hand to Ian, too, and—with a laugh—Ian shook that one as well.

  “A kid?” he said then to Hutch on a much less stilted note.

  “I know, weird, isn’t it? I’m a dad.”

  “And he looks just like us,” Ian marveled.

  “Just like us,” Hutch confirmed.

  For a moment, Ian stared at the child, thinking that that was what he wanted when he was ready to have kids of his own—that kind of obvious, irrefutable bond….

  “Where are you staying?” Ian asked.

  “Shannon offered me Dag’s house while they go on their honeymoon. And speaking of sisters—how’s Lacey?”

  Their younger sister had been caught in the middle of the Kincaid family feud and fearing that she might make things worse if she kept a foot in both camps, she’d conceded to their father. She hadn’t had contact with Hutch in all this time, either.

  “Lacey is terrific,” Ian said. “She’s hated this whole mess, though. She’ll love it if it all ends.”

  “If?”

  “When. Dad wants it over, too. If you extend an olive branch, he’ll take it.”

  Hutch nodded. “I wouldn’t want Ash to grow up not knowing the only grandfather he has.”

  “If you can stay in Northbridge after the wedding, he’ll be here next week—I can bring the two of you together….”

  “As long as the old man is willing, that would be good,” Hutch agreed.

  “Great! Then come on, I’ll buy you a drink and there’s someone I want you to meet….”

  Jenna was waiting.

  After watching Ian come face-to-face with his estranged brother at the rehearsal dinner, Ian had brought Hutch to her to introduce them.