3 Seductions and a Wedding

by Julie Leto

  “Wrong thing to say to a man who believes anything is possible, if he puts his mind to it.”

  THE LIMO DRIVER had to make an extra few turns around the neighborhood, but by the time they finally arrived at the hotel thirty minutes later, Ajay had made good on his pledge. And though he’d slipped on a condom and finished the job with a bang, he knew sex alone wouldn’t convince Mallory that he wanted more. For her and for him.

  He could not hand her any guarantees. No man could, especially one so inexperienced in the area of relationships. But damn it, he wanted to try. With Mallory.

  He instructed the driver to park in the hotel’s side lot, which was dark with the shadows of old oak trees, and then sent him into the hotel to check on the preparations for the party. This not only gave Ajay a chance to clear up and straighten his clothes, but Mallory time to put herself back together. Making her come undone was addicting, but they did have a goal to achieve. Hopefully, they’d shore up Brock Arsenal’s performance quickly so he could throw out everyone he’d invited for the party and he could spend the rest of the night proving to her that he wouldn’t lose interest in making her happy.

  When she finally exited the car, he pulled her close and twirled his finger around a tendril of hair that had escaped her chic French twist. “Your cheeks are flushed.”

  “That’s not the only part of me that’s flushed,” she said.

  “Oh, can I see?”

  She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “You had a bird’s-eye view only fifteen minutes ago. That’s a wicked tongue you have.”

  “I’m glad you appreciate my talents.”

  “Yes, well, if I don’t stop appreciating your talents, I’m going to have to redo my makeup for a third time. We should greet our guests. Do you think Arsenal will show up, or will we have to turn up the music really loud and hope he comes over personally to complain?”

  “We issued the invitation,” Ajay said. “Now all we can do is hope the music and those Parisian gymnasts do the rest.”

  In the penthouse, waitstaff passed out savory appetizers, bite-size desserts and flutes of champagne. Ajay’s team was there in force, some with girlfriends and wives, but most anxiously waiting for the performers to arrive. Two of Mallory’s translators came in ten minutes later, followed by the contingent from the circus.

  He usually enjoyed parties, meeting new people, even catching up with the designers and technicians he’d hired but rarely had time to socialize with. He ran a relatively laid-back company, but everyone was too in love with their work to goof off. But by the time the disc jockey had Brock Arsenal’s most popular songs rocking the entire upper floor of the hotel, Ajay wanted to get this over with.

  Mallory stuck close to him, more so as the crowd increased with guests from the hotel. If they got separated by the swelling sea of people, including a few strange faces he suspected were gate-crashers, he instinctively found her, taking her hand and locking it in his or pressing his palm against her back so that she was constantly aware of his presence.

  As midnight approached with no appearance from their unwitting guest of honor, Ajay felt Mallory’s skin chill. He pulled her close, but her breathing had quickened more than necessary for someone who was just working a room.

  “Why don’t we step outside for some fresh air?” he suggested, gesturing with his champagne toward the balcony.

  “We might miss Arsenal if he comes in.”

  “Then let’s go out into the hall. We could both use a few quiet moments.”

  “Are you going to kiss my lipstick off again?” she asked, leaning up to mouth the question directly into his ear.

  “Now that you suggested it, yes.”

  8

  AJAY’S KISS sucked all the pent-up anxiety out of her system. He was like a panacea. Or a drug. Mallory had never understood the true power of addiction until he’d come into her life.

  And he wanted more. How could she deny him? She was pretty sure no one had yet devised a twelve-step program to stop this kind of madness.

  A deep-throated Ahem broke them apart.

  Their neighbor and quarry stared at them, completely unabashed.

  “Mr. Arsenal,” she sputtered.

  Brock Arsenal looked every inch the rock star. His blond hair, highlighted with streaks of gray, shot from his head in spikes. His lined face bore signs of his wild life, but his blue eyes danced with humor. He slid the tops of his fingers into the pockets of tight denim jeans and his hips moved almost imperceptibly, picking up the beat of the one of his hits that had been remixed into a dance club staple.

  “And here I thought the party was inside,” he said, his New Jersey accent only barely hidden by his chuckle.

  Ajay stepped forward and extended his hand. At the moment, Mallory was more than ready for him to take over, but she suddenly realized that meeting Brock Arsenal was the first step toward the end of this marvelous, liberating affair.

  But she couldn’t stop time. Whether this rock star sang at the reception or not, in two days, her best friend was going to marry the love of her life—and after that, Mallory would have to pull away from Ajay, a man who had, in less than twenty-four hours, touched her in places her former fiancé never knew existed. Physically and emotionally. Damn him.

  “We just stepped out for some fresh air,” Ajay explained.

  Arsenal leaned toward Mallory’s face and inhaled. “Yes, that’s some minty fresh air. And beautiful lips to breathe it with. Brock Arsenal,” he said, holding out his hand. “And who might this delicious provider of oxygen be?”

  Oh, Lord. He was flirting with her. She nearly shot off a comment that would have made it clear she wasn’t interested—but Ajay, who was still holding her hand, gave it an anxious squeeze.

  Right. If she was rude, they might not get the guy’s cooperation.

  She pasted on a smile. “Mallory Tedesco. And this is Ajay Singh. We’re hosting tonight’s event.”

  “Singh? Popular name. You’re not the golfer, are you?”

  “That’s Vijay Singh. And no, we’re not related.”

  Arsenal grinned and from the wicked look in his eye, Mallory guessed his incorrect assumption about Ajay’s identity was a joke.

  “Then that makes you the tech guy. I think your company designed the software that runs the light sequences for my live show.”

  Ajay’s brows arched. “I don’t recall—”

  “Oh, they weren’t custom. My team adapted the equipment from The Magics. Their lead singer got all coked out and the group broke up. Someone put their junk up for auction and I bought it for a steal.”

  Ajay grinned. “Well, we’ll have to develop something more state-of-the-art for you. If you’d like to come inside, meet a few people, we can discuss your current needs.”

  “Nah,” the rock star said. “Just wanted to thank you for the invite. Sounds like a hot get-together. Music rocks, anyway. But I’ve got someplace I’ve got to be.”

  “You must have a very busy weekend,” Mallory said quickly, desperate to keep the man talking. If he wasn’t going to stay for the party, they had to work fast to make their proposal. “Your concert is tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You got tickets?”

  “Front row,” Ajay replied. “But I’m not sure if we’re going to be able to use them. Two friends of ours are flying in from Costa Rica and tomorrow night, we have the rehearsal for their wedding on Sunday. Your ballad, ‘Forever Mine,’ is their song.”

  “Cool,” he said, nodding. “Who doesn’t like weddings?”

  Mallory swooped in, stepping forward in her eagerness to grab this opening. “You’d really like this one. They’ve been engaged for ten years but haven’t managed to get down the aisle, so we’re throwing them a wedding as a surprise. They have no idea we’ve made all the arrangements. Well, most of the arrangements. We have one last miracle to pull off.”

  Together, Ajay and Mallory described Bianca and Coop’s romance, highlighting their tribulations, the
ir amazing, giving personalities and their long road toward matrimony. Arsenal tilted his head as he listened. His body language—something Mallory wasn’t exactly fluent in, though she knew the basics—told her he was genuinely interested.

  “Man, romances like that just don’t happen anymore,” he said, shaking his head.

  “But when they do,” Ajay said, slipping his arm around Mallory’s waist and pulling her close, “don’t you think the couple should just go for it? Do it up big?”

  “Don’t ask me. I’m crap at relationships. Although,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I never stop trying.”

  He had a date. Or in his case, probably a rendezvous. It was time to drop all pretenses.

  “Are you going to be around all weekend? Because Coop and Bianca would go crazy if you came to the wedding! Oh, my God. That would be like a blessing from the musician who created the soundtrack of their love.”

  Arsenal’s brow arched. She’d caught his attention.

  “I could make it worth your time,” Ajay added, giving Mallory an expectant squeeze on her backside that the rock star could not see. “A large donation to your favorite charity, perhaps? I know you’re on tour, but—”

  “Hey,” Arsenal said, stopping Ajay with a flat palm on his arm. “The best part of being in this business for more than half my life is that I make my own rules. No entourage in my private room, no rush in my schedule. I’d planned to spend the whole weekend here, actually. Was just going to head to the beach Sunday and bum around. But going to a wedding could be cool. And if you want to put a little cash in the coffers of this animal shelter I’m supporting in upstate New York, then more power to you, man.”

  In minutes, the details were exchanged and verified. Hands were shaken. Hugs commenced. By the time the rock star headed down the elevator, Mallory’s mind was whirling.

  “We did it,” she squealed.

  Ajay scooped her into his arms. All the anxiety she’d felt earlier in the overcrowded suite had evaporated and the euphoria of achieving their goal had her floating on air. Or perhaps the lightness came from Ajay twirling her in circles and kissing her until she couldn’t breathe.

  “Now,” Ajay said finally, setting her down and piercing her with a gaze so serious her heart skipped a beat, “let’s kick all these people out of here. Until tomorrow night we have nothing left to do except make love until neither one of us can stand.”

  A thrill skittered through her bloodstream. Mallory had never heard such an irresistible offer—one she would never dream of refusing. And if he kept this up, she could only imagine what else she might agree to.

  AS PROMISED, Mallory and Ajay spent the rest of the night and most of Saturday lounging in the suite, ordering room service and making love whenever the mood struck them. By the time they reached the wedding rehearsal just before Bianca and Coop, neither had much energy. Mallory felt as if she’d just touched down after a trip in a time machine—one where she’d shoved a lifetime’s worth of loving into one twenty-four-hour period.

  Afterward, they walked into the pizzeria, the same spot where Mallory had first set her sights on Ajay, hand in hand. Their pairing hadn’t raised even the tiniest eyebrow from anyone. The shock of Jessie and Leo’s reconciliation, not to mention the pure disbelief over the unexpected pairing of Coop’s sister, Annie, and Bianca’s much younger brother, Drew, won the moment. Even the announcement that the group had banded together to throw Coop and Bianca a surprise wedding that would happen the next night had not trumped the collective disbelief over the unexpected romances.

  Since no one seemed to care about them, Mallory was able to throw herself completely into the role of Ajay’s lover. Surrounded by people she cared about, the excessive crowd in the busy Saturday-night hot spot didn’t affect her at all. She and Ajay held hands under the table, kissed when no one was looking, shared pasta-twirled forks and talked in hushed tones. By the time they returned to the hotel, they walked in as if the rooms were their shared home rather than a rented suite, discarded their clothes, showered together and then fell into bed. They did not make love, but slept entangled in each other’s arms until late the next morning.

  From the moment they woke, however, the wedding became their priority. Ajay shuttled Mallory to the hotel where the wedding would be held and picked up Coop, Drew and Leo so they could use Ajay’s suite to don their tuxedos and spend the afternoon drinking cold imported beer and enjoying the last moments of Coop’s bachelorhood.

  Not that he’d been a bachelor for a long time. For a decade, his devotion to Bianca had never hinged on a ring or a piece of paper. The wedding was just an excuse to celebrate a relationship that each and every one of them knew would last a lifetime.

  When Bianca came out of her bedroom in her custom-designed wedding dress, Mallory allowed herself a full minute of pure and utter envy before she joined the queue to hug her friend and wish her the best life had to offer.

  “You’ve never looked more beautiful,” Mallory said, wiping away a tear that threatened her expertly applied mascara.

  “You look amazing yourself,” Bianca said. “Love looks good on you.”

  “Love?”

  Bianca smirked. “Don’t deny it. I’m a bride. We know these things.”

  Mallory opened her mouth to offer a reasoned argument about why she could not possibly be in love with a man she barely knew—not to mention one with no concept of commitment—but she stopped. She was never a good liar. She might be adept at deluding herself, but even that talent was pretty weak, judging by the way she’d forgotten all about her so-called heartbreak over Carlo after only two days as Ajay’s lover.

  “He’s going to leave me,” she said.

  “No, he won’t,” Bianca assured, turning to the mirror to adjust the antique tiara her mother had unveiled shortly after their arrival at the hotel.

  Jessie and Annie sat near the window as makeup artists finished the last touches on their lipstick. Bianca’s mother had gone downstairs for one last meeting with the caterer, and the photographer was lingering by the kitchen, noshing on crudités left out for the bridal party. Mallory was glad for this private moment with Bianca, but did she want to waste it discussing something that couldn’t possibly be true?

  “How can you say that? You’re the one who warned me off spending the weekend with him.”

  “I guess it’s my superhoned bride-sense,” Bianca joked. She laughed, but then her expression turned serious. “Because I saw the two of you together last night. I’ve seen Ajay with lots of women and he never looked at any of them like that.”

  “With lust?” Mallory challenged.

  “Well, there was a load of that going around the whole table, if you ask me,” Bianca said, eying Jessie and Annie with a perplexed gaze. “But it was more than lust. He looked at you the way Coop looks at me. I’ve never seen it in Ajay. I’m surprised you kept from ripping his clothes off every time you caught him staring.”

  This time, Mallory laughed. “Trust me, we’ve both been naked more often than not this weekend.”

  Jessie jumped up from her chair with a glare at the makeup artist that declared she’d had enough primping. “Sounds like we all shared the surprise wedding aphrodisiac this weekend.”

  Annie went to the mirror on the other side of the room and pretended to mess with her perfectly coiffed hair. Bianca caught her by the arm and dragged her back over. “Oh, no. You’re not getting out of this conversation.”

  The mother of two quelled the bride’s curiosity with one deadpan look and a loaded question. “Do you really want to know about your brother’s lovemaking techniques?”

  Bianca grimaced and let her go. “You’re right. You stay out of this. Except you’re the only one of us who’s ever been married before. Why don’t you tell Mallory how to make sure Ajay never strays?”

  Annie choked. “Like I know? Look, there are no guarantees in life or love, but if there’s one thing I have learned, especially this weekend with Drew, it’s that I nee
d to be true to myself. We all do. If Ajay loves you for who you are now, at this very moment, and for whoever you might become over the course of your life—and you love him the same way—then nothing can come between you.”

  Mallory mulled over Annie’s wisdom, and she had to admit the woman had a point. Ajay was utterly comfortable in his own skin. His confidence gave her room to be whoever she wanted to be—and vice versa. Ajay knew his weaknesses. He admitted them freely. But he also knew his strengths. So far, he’d never failed at anything he’d put his mind to. Why would he fall short now?

  “Go for it,” Bianca said. “Take a risk. You already have just by hooking up with him and so far, you’ve come out the better for it. Maybe Ajay never committed to anyone because he hadn’t met the right woman. Now he’s met you. Game over.”

  The late afternoon ceremony went on without a hitch, though the fact that Brock Arsenal came into the ballroom with the groomsmen caused a stir, which was silenced immediately once the bridesmaids started the procession down the long white runner. Once Bianca and Coop exchanged vows and kissed, the wedding guests retreated to a larger ballroom and partook of appetizers and cocktails while the bridal party posed for picture after picture after picture.

  Bianca insisted on separate shots of each of her attendants and the men in their lives. When the photographer posed Mallory and Ajay in profile, each looking deeply into the other’s eyes, Mallory’s fears disappeared. She could see his love there as plainly as she could see the tiny flecks of light in his jade-green irises. She could feel it in the way he held her, possessively, and yet, with total confidence that once he let her go, she’d gravitate right back to him.

  And she would. They were two pieces of one whole.

  She wanted Ajay more than she’d ever wanted anything else, and not just for the weekend, but for a lifetime. She’d come so far in such a short time—she knew that if she concentrated on her goal, she’d have him forever.