Brooks’s hand was large, warm and encompassing. When he gazed down at her and gave her a half smile, Jazzy’s breath hitched.
Brooks himself took care of the slice of cake, sliding it onto a paper plate. Then he offered it to her. They each broke off a piece, knowing what they were supposed to do.
Brooks lifted the bite of cake and icing to her lips, never taking his eyes from hers.
Flashes from cameras again burst around them.
She opened her mouth, and when she took the bite from his fingers, her tongue touched his thumb and icing slid along her upper lip.
The sound of a spoon tapping a glass rung in her ears. As if the sound had to be translated, a woman called, “Kiss that icing away!” More tinkling on glasses. After all, this was a wedding reception.
Brooks leaned in and kissed her. The icing became the sweetest confection she’d ever tasted as Brooks’s tongue slipped along her lips and she kissed him back.
When he broke away, she blinked, tried to find her equilibrium and realized it was her turn now. If he kissed her like that again... She was careful picking up his piece of cake. He was careful as he ate it from her fingers. Everyone clapped. She tried to smile along with Brooks as they both seemed to be relieved that tradition was over.
As Jordyn oversaw the slicing of the cake for guests, some of them chatted with Jazzy and Brooks. Dallas Traub, who Brooks had introduced in their receiving line, approached them. “I just want to tell both of you not to be strangers. We’ve all been so focused on recovering from the flood, we haven’t had time for anything else. After spending so much time with my rug rats, I could use adult conversation.”
Earlier, Jazzy had learned that Dallas lived on his family’s ranch—the Triple T—but had his own house on the property that had seen some damage from the flood, but not the devastation others had experienced.
“I’d like to see your ranch sometime. And meet your children.” After all, it was only polite to make Brooks’s friend feel comfortable.
“We’ll set up a time soon,” Dallas assured them. Then he clapped Brooks on the back and walked away.
“He’s been through a rough time,” Brooks said almost to himself. “That’s when family counts most.”
Jazzy imagined he was thinking again about the reason for this wedding—not true love, not a lifelong commitment, but rather his dad’s health.
Had they done the right thing?
* * *
A short time later, as Brooks and Jazzy were mingling with their guests, Brooks watched Jordyn go to the podium and pick up the microphone. She tapped it and smiled. “It’s time for the first dance between Jazzy and Brooks as a married couple,” she announced. Turning to the CD player on the wall, she started the music.
It was one dance, Brooks thought, as he offered his hand to Jazzy. Surely he could get through one dance.
He thought of the first time he and Jazzy had danced when they’d looked over the social hall. And their kiss after the ceremony, not to mention the sensual tasting of the wedding cake—
He had to look at this logically. This day was simply an exception to the agreement they had made. Today, they were pretending in front of a larger audience than his dad. Today would be over before they knew it.
His wedding day. When he’d imagined it with Lynnette, he’d had dreams. Now he just wanted his dad’s good health. He just wanted the year to pass quickly so he and Jazzy could get on with their lives.
As Brooks forced a smile and took Jazzy in his arms, he was glad they’d had that one practice dance. That way this wasn’t so awkward.
Just like last night when Jazzy had appeared in the diner in her red dress, he’d been bowled over by the way she’d looked in her wedding dress as she’d walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. It was so feminine with its lace and high neck. Yet it had a touch of Western sass, too, with its fringes and peek-a-boo sections that gave him a glimpse of skin. And those boots with their heels...
Taking her in his arms and bending his head to her, he said, “I don’t know how you can dance in those things.”
“These boots were made for dancing,” she joked, but her smile wobbled just enough that he knew this day wasn’t easy for her, either. He was glad he’d bought the roses, champagne and watch for tonight.
When he leaned toward her, he got caught in the fragrance of her perfume. It was musky-sweet and fit Jazzy perfectly. “Are you okay?” he asked seriously, in spite of everyone watching.
“As okay as you,” she returned with her usual spunk. But then she added, “Though I’m glad we’re not in a fishbowl all the time. It’s downright unnerving.”
“Now you know how celebrities feel,” he bantered, hoping to make her smile again.
She didn’t just smile. She laughed. And he realized how much he enjoyed the sound of it.
“Maybe I should simply think of my family as groupies!”
Flashes popped as both Laila and Abby took photos of them.
“They’re going to make an album for us.” Jazzy was watching him for his reaction.
“Your family is just doing what families do.”
“Maybe we should have gotten married by the justice of the peace. It would have been simpler the whole way around,” she murmured.
Tearing his gaze from Jazzy’s, he caught sight of his father watching them. His broad smile said it all.
“Just look at my dad, Jazzy.” He maneuvered them so she could see Barrett.
After the moment it took for her to absorb his message, she sighed.
Brooks didn’t know what that sigh meant because everyone began clinking their spoons on their glasses so he and Jazzy would kiss.
“Here we go again,” he said, tightening his arms around her, drawing her close so her body was pressed against his. She didn’t resist or try to lean away.
When his lips met hers, he intended to make the kiss quick. He intended for it to simply be a brushing of lips on lips.
But with Jazzy, nothing was ever exactly as he intended it to be.
Her perfume was like a magic spell, drawing him into its aura. Jazzy was so femininely alluring, his hand came up to caress her cheek. Careful not to disturb her hat, he angled his mouth over hers and almost forgot about “pretend.” His lips felt so right on hers.
In the nick of time, before he took their public kiss into the private realm, he pulled away. Jazzy almost tripped over his boot and he caught her up against him so they didn’t have a mishap.
Charlie called out, “Careful those kisses don’t knock you off your feet!”
Everyone laughed. Everyone except him and Jazzy. They couldn’t seem to unlock their gazes.
And they didn’t until Jordyn announced, “Now my dad will dance with Jazzy and Brooks will dance with my mom. Everyone else, join in and enjoy the music.”
Brooks had to let Jazzy go. Tearing his gaze from hers, he realized he didn’t like that idea at all.
* * *
That night on the porch at Brooks’s condo, Jazzy held the top layer of foil-wrapped wedding cake, still not quite believing what had taken place. She and Brooks had said their vows, he’d kissed her so passionately her hat had almost popped off. When he’d licked that icing—
He set her suitcase down on the porch and unlocked the door, glancing at her. “You packed light when you came to Rust Creek Falls. One suitcase? Most women would have three.”
“I’m not most women.” She wanted to say, “I’m your wife now,” but she didn’t.
He gave her a very long look that made her shift the layer of cake from one hand to the other, then he opened the door.
Jazzy caught the scent of roses as soon as she walked inside. Immediately she spotted the vase on the side table and went straight to it. The blooms were huge and red, giving off a beautiful
scent.
“They’re wonderful!”
“I thought you might like them.”
She wanted to cross to him and kiss him all over again in a way that wasn’t simply for show, but she didn’t have that freedom.
While he carried her suitcase to the guest bedroom, she looked around the place and noticed a fire was laid on the grate. Maybe they’d cozy up together in front of it.
Brooks returned to the living room. “I’ll light a fire. I have champagne, too. We can celebrate. I’ve never seen my dad happier.”
His dad. That was the reason they’d done this, and she couldn’t forget it. “Champagne would be nice,” she agreed.
When Brooks started for the kitchen, she followed with the cake. “I’ll find a plate.”
“Top left cupboard. You’ll have to learn your way around,” he said with a smile.
That smile. She sighed, found two plates and unwrapped the cake.
Five minutes later they were sitting on the sofa with a fire dancing on the grate, sharing bites of cake. Brooks had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
“It was a nice wedding,” she said as a preamble.
“Yes, it was,” he agreed. “But I’m not sure your parents approve of me, or your brother, either.”
Her dad had questioned Brooks about his practice and so had her brother. They hadn’t smiled much and Jazzy wished, as she had in the past, that they’d just trust her judgment.
Brooks took the bottle of champagne he’d pulled from the refrigerator, unwrapped the foil around the top, and then popped the cork. It bounced across the room and they both laughed. He poured the champagne into two tumblers, only filling them about a third of the way. As he picked up her glass, as well as his, and handed it to her, the bubbles danced and popped.
“Before today, I hadn’t had champagne since my sister’s wedding.”
“Then it’s about time.” He clinked his glass against hers. “We pulled it off.”
Yes, they had. “My parents will be harder to convince if and when we visit them.”
“It will be fine, Jazzy, really it will. Jordyn’s on our side. She still lives at home, right?”
Jazzy nodded and took a couple of swallows of her champagne. “She’ll be a good buffer. I wish I could confide in her, but it’s difficult for sisters to keep secrets from one another. I’m afraid if I tell her, she’ll tell Abby, Abby will tell Laila, Laila will tell Annabel...”
“You can talk to me.”
Yes, she could talk to Brooks about everything but what she felt for him. She took another swallow of champagne and realized she’d drained her glass. He drank his, too, picked up the bottle, and poured more for both of them. They were sitting close together, the sleeve of her dress rubbing the sleeve of his shirt, their knees brushing every now and then.
“I spoke to Charlie tonight,” she said.
“He keeps Dad on track as much as he can.”
“Did he tell you your dad wants to do the chores himself?” Jazzy asked him. “He doesn’t want Travis helping him.”
“Travis has his orders from me. He’s supposed to listen to me, not to Dad.”
“Charlie insists your dad’s stubborn.”
“He doesn’t know how to sit still unless his favorite program’s on the TV,” Brooks grumbled. “He’s eating the meals you’re making him, though. That’s a good sign. And he walks up and down the drive, going farther each day. When bad weather sets in, I don’t know what he’ll do. Maybe I can get him a treadmill for Christmas.”
“Do you think he’d use it?”
“I can set it up in the basement and make him a gym area. If I have to, I’ll go there and work out with him.”
She drank more champagne, then laid her hand on Brooks’s arm. His forearm was as muscled as the rest of him, the dark brown hair there was rough under her fingertips. “You’re a good son.”
“We haven’t been close enough in my adult years. Maybe now that will change.”
“I think it will...if you both want it to.”
Brooks reached to the shelf under the coffee table and brought out a wrapped package. She hadn’t noticed it under there, though now the gold foil gleamed in the lamplight.
“Brooks, what’s this?”
“Just a little something for you to remember today. Open it.”
Jazzy’s fingers fumbled as she tore the paper off the box with a Western scene. “Montana Silversmiths.” Taking the lid from the box, she saw the watch inside. Lifting it out, she examined the scrollwork on the band, the pretty face.
“Oh, Brooks, it’s beautiful! Thank you.”
“Put it on and see if it fits.”
It fit her wrist as if it had been made for her.
Brooks poured more champagne into the two glasses. Then he looked at her as he’d looked at her when she’d walked up the aisle toward him, when she’d taken his hand and faced the minister. “You’ve been a good sport about all of this.”
“I have a dream, too,” she said, knowing Brooks would think she was talking about the rescue ranch, not about their marriage.
The longer they gazed at each other, the more the fire crackled and popped, the more the electric tension in the air seemed to draw them together. She didn’t want this moment of closeness to end. Maybe those champagne bubbles had gone to her head, but she thought she saw desire in his eyes.
He took a strand of her hair in his hand and then played with it between his fingers. “So silky and soft. In that hat and your dress, you looked as if you’d just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine.”
“I’m just Jazzy,” she said with a small laugh, feeling all trembly inside. “The same girl who got to know Sparky because of you. The same girl who got scratched by Mrs. Oliver’s cat. The same girl who will never be a calf roper.”
He laughed at that and leaned a little closer. “I have no doubt you could be a calf roper if you set your mind to it.”
“I’d rather set my mind on other things.”
It seemed as if he would, too, because instead of just touching her hair, his hand delved under it and slid up the back of her neck. She tilted her head up to gaze into his eyes and he leaned even closer.
Something in the air changed. Instead of conversation and banter, Brooks seemed to want something else, and so did she. The kiss after their ceremony flashed in her mind, right before his lips settled on hers. Their kiss with the taste of icing between them was still a sweet memory. But this time as he kissed her, he didn’t stop with the pressing of lips on lips or a slight lick of his tongue. Now Brooks’s tongue slid along her lips, and she didn’t hesitate a second. She opened her mouth to him. He tasted her and she tasted him. He was champagne and icing, and she was tempted by both.
Apparently, he was, too, because his tongue explored her mouth, searching, asking, maybe even demanding. She gave in to his desire...and hers. She responded with everything she had. Her arm went around him and she became intoxicated by the scent of his cologne and the scent of him and the idea that they were husband and wife. She could feel every bit of Brooks’s desire. When his fingers went to the zipper on the back of her dress, she anticipated what might happen next. But the sound of the rasp of the metal changed everything. Brooks’s fingers froze as he did, too.
He broke their kiss, raised his head and looked as if he’d done something terribly wrong.
Before she could tell him that she liked what they were doing, that after all, they were married, that maybe something new could come of their partnership, he gruffly said, “I’m sorry, Jazzy. I know we have an arrangement and I never intended for this to happen. I just wanted to celebrate a little and show you how much I appreciate what you’re doing. This is essentially a business deal, and neither of us should forget that.”
A business deal.
She’d really never thought of this as strictly business, but clearly, he had. The flowers and the champagne and watch were just to show his appreciation.
And the kiss? Well...
She was a woman and he was a man, and he had needs that he apparently wasn’t going to satisfy.
“I guess the champagne went to our heads,” she murmured.
“I guess,” he said gruffly.
“Thank you for the watch. I really like it.”
“Good.”
So Brooks had once again turned into the monosyllabic remote man he’d been the night before their wedding. Because he felt he’d done something wrong?
So she said the one thing that she knew would make this easier for both of them. “I’d better turn in. I have to unpack and...set up my alarm. Do you want me to go to your dad’s with you in the morning?”
“That’s up to you.”
“I’ll go with you. We wouldn’t want him to think something’s wrong.” She stood, feeling a little shaky from everything that had happened today, just wanting to make a fast exit.
He stood, too. “I’ll have to make sure the fire’s out, so I might be up for a little bit. Good night, Jazzy.”
She murmured, “Good night,” and headed for her room. As she did, she felt the air on the back of her neck where her zipper had been lowered a bit, and she wondered just what would have happened if both of them had had one more glass of champagne.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, breakfast was awkward and quick. Jazzy cooked scrambled eggs while Brooks fried bacon. She put the toast in and waited for it to pop while he took everything to the table.
Halfway through eating, Brooks said, “You don’t have to go along to check on Dad. I can drop you at the clinic.”
That certainly would be easier with this tension between them but not necessarily the best thing to do. “I don’t mind. Besides, wouldn’t your dad think it was odd that we weren’t together the day after our wedding?”
Marrying Dr. Maverick Page 14
