Naked Truth

by Tami Lund

  Considering how just the simplest touch from Jack had spiked her blood pressure, she suspected it was not difficult at all for him to pick up women when he was in the mood for a little action.

  Was that the key to happiness as a single person? Occasional one-night stands, with no other expectations? Jack looked, at the very least, content and comfortable in his own skin.

  Kennedy certainly wasn’t happy, and neither did she feel comfortable in her own skin half the time. She tended to dress down, to hide herself, to try to avoid being noticed by the opposite sex. It was easier that way. Otherwise, she might have to be forced to address unwanted attentions from men like Jack.

  They were unwanted, weren’t they?

  Since her divorce three years ago, Kennedy had not dated at all. She was too afraid. She’d fallen for her lying ex-husband, let him talk her into moving from her comfort zone—her hometown of Dallas—to New Orleans, a town that was an entirely different world. She’d let him talk her into marrying him. And then he’d taken everything, including her pride, right from under her nose.

  She glanced at Jack again, caught him watching her, and averted her eyes.

  Kennedy’s experience with one-night stands was limited to two times in her entire life. There was that one time in college, when the guy had bet his friends that he could convince her to sleep with him. She thought he wanted to date her, wanted so much more, until the next morning when he laughed while he pulled his shorts over his thighs and said, “Thanks for that, Kennedy. I’m strapped for cash right now and that twenty bucks will sure come in handy.”

  The other time had been a stupid mistake she’d made with the divorce attorney she’d hired when her ex stole all her money. So she probably shouldn’t be open to attempting another one-night stand.

  Except that, honestly, wasn’t it different if she knew about it up front? If both parties had the same expectation? While the outcome had been humiliating, she could admit that the sex with the attorney had been good, at least while she’d been in the moment.

  Maybe it had been good because it was a one-night stand.

  She eyed Jack again. He certainly looked like he could please a woman in bed. Those big hands, with lean, nimble fingers. What would they feel like, caressing her breasts, sliding down her belly to the apex of her thighs?

  Those full, slightly pouty lips trailing kisses along her throat, over her chest, suckling her nipples. His tongue darting out to tease her skin as he continued his downward path, until his lips were pressed against that part of her body that hadn’t felt the touch of a man’s lips in …

  “Almost done,” Jack murmured, pulling her abruptly from the impromptu fantasy. His chocolate-brown eyes watched her from under hooded lids.

  She turned her head slightly away. The man looked as if the rented tux had been made specifically for him, whereas Cullen looked faintly uncomfortable in the fancy duds.

  Jack stepped in front of the altar and offered the crook of his arm. Kennedy slipped her hand through and let it rest lightly on his forearm as they both turned and posed for the photographer.

  “Don’t be gentle, baby,” he teased, which caused a surprised giggle to burst from her mouth just as the camera clicked.

  She lightly slapped his arm with her other hand. “You just ruined that picture,” she scolded as they walked down the aisle.

  “By making you laugh? How do you figure?”

  Kennedy shook her head as she kept a smile plastered onto her face in case someone was still taking pictures. “I don’t photograph well,” she explained. “Especially when I laugh.”

  “That is one of the weirdest things I have ever heard,” he remarked, just as they reached the end of the procession and were tugged apart by the wedding planner.

  After greeting the guests and promising to see them at the reception, then smiling for another multitude of pictures, it was finally time to pile into the limo. Since Vanessa was doing a lousy job of managing her maid of honor duties, Kennedy picked up the slack and herded everyone into the back seat before rushing into the church to ensure they hadn’t left anything behind in the bride’s room.

  When she returned, the driver took the three bags she carried and placed them in the trunk, and then held the door open while Kennedy tried to duck into the back in a dress that wasn’t terribly accommodating to such activity.

  The limo was full. “Oh,” Kennedy said. “I guess I’ll sit in front.”

  “You can’t,” Sabrina said. “Cullen’s grandma is up there. She said she wanted to flirt with the driver.” She giggled as she lifted a half empty bottle of champagne and drank straight from the bottle. Cullen shook his head, looking faintly embarrassed by his grandmother’s actions. The driver cleared his throat, his eyes lifting to look at the almost cloudless sky.

  “There’s plenty of room,” Jack announced, and before Kennedy could react, he slipped his arm around her waist and hauled her into his lap.

  “No!” Kennedy struggled, twisting her body, pushing against Jack’s chest, trying to shift into a less compromising position, even as the door slammed shut and the rest of the crowd in the limo laughed.

  Jack’s arms wrapped around her body, effectively trapping her arms against her sides and forcing her to sit still. “Relax,” he whispered next to her ear. “It’s a short ride to the reception, and you shouldn’t be left out just because you were helping the bride.”

  Kennedy tried to force herself to relax. He hadn’t been hitting on her; he had only tried to help. Just because sitting in his lap elevated her own body temperature was no reason to assume the guy was a sleaze. Besides, twenty minutes ago she had been giving serious consideration to the idea of having a one-night stand with him.

  As she became aware of the size of the erection pressing into her backside, her thoughts plummeted into the gutter. Guess she was back to considering shagging him, even if she knew damn well it would only happen once.

  Jack loosened his hold, and then cupped her waist and adjusted her in his lap. “Sorry,” he murmured. “That was feeling a little too good.”

  Cullen shoved his shoulder. “Lay off the bridesmaid, Jack.”

  Hey, what’s the problem?” Jack teased. “We’re both consenting adults. If she wants to sit in my lap, she has every right to do so.”

  “There wasn’t anywhere else to sit,” Kennedy protested, feeling the need to defend herself. “And you pulled me into your lap.”

  “Aw, that hurt. Are you saying you would have been happy riding in any old lap that was handy?”

  “No!”

  Kennedy could relate to Cullen’s reluctance to being in the spotlight. She hated knowing everyone in the limo was watching her, was laughing at her obvious discomfort. Jack thought he was helping, but truthfully she would have preferred to have ridden to the reception by herself, even if it would have meant missing out on the feel of his muscular chest against her back, his impressive erection against her ass.

  Damn, she was becoming a harlot in her own head. It really had been too long since she’d enjoyed skin-to-skin contact with a man.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered, her eyes closed, her body tense as she focused every bit of attention on the effort not to move.

  “Don’t apologize,” Jack admonished. “I was just teasing you.”

  They arrived at the reception site, and Kennedy bolted from the vehicle almost before it came to a complete stop. As she reached for the front door, she turned her head, glanced over her shoulder—and saw Jack, standing next to the limo, a contemplative expression on his face. Kennedy wondered why he appeared so pensive.

  • • •

  “It’s beautiful,” Sabrina declared as she and Cullen stepped into the ballroom, greeted by a round of applause and catcalls from their guests.

  “You’re beautiful,” Cullen murmured, using the opportunity to nuzzle her ear. Sabrina giggled and did not push him away.

  “Marriage seems to agree with Cullen,” Jack commented as he and Kennedy stood sid
e by side, next to the head table, watching as the new bride and groom were introduced.

  “Cullen agrees with Sabrina,” Kennedy responded.

  “They’re good for each other. She brings out the best in him.”

  “And he balances her.”

  “Match made in heaven,” Jack said, his voice light with sarcasm.

  Kennedy chuckled. “Hardly. They’re practically opposites. But they do prove the old adage that opposites attract.”

  Cullen and Sabrina moved onto the dance floor as the band struck up the cords of “Just the Way You Are” by Billy Joel. Kennedy glanced at Jack, and they burst out laughing.

  “Our turn,” Jack murmured, and then he led her out onto the dance floor.

  As it turned out, he was a good dancer. He exuded a certain confidence and grace that was both slightly intimidating and overwhelming for someone like her, who hadn’t had a great deal of self-confidence even before she’d allowed her ex to walk all over her.

  “You’re a good dancer,” Jack remarked as they swayed to the music. One hand rested lightly on the small of her back, while the other clasped her hand, gently guiding her around the dance floor.

  “Thanks. It’s because I have a good partner.”

  “We fit together well,” Jack said, and he sent her into a twirl before catching her and resuming the dance again.

  “Oh,” she gasped.

  Jack winked. “Stick with me, babe. I’m full of surprises.”

  The song ended, and the wedding party left the dance floor and made their way to the head table so that dinner could be announced.

  • • •

  Dinner led to the cake-cutting ceremony and an endless stream of toasts. Kennedy gave her own tearful tribute, thanking Sabrina for being there for her own wedding and for giving Kennedy the opportunity to do the same for her.

  Jack whispered to Cullen, “I didn’t realize she’s married.”

  “Was. She’s been divorced a while. Three years, I think.”

  “What? Was she sixteen when she got married?”

  “Twenty-five, actually.”

  “How long did it last?”

  “Couple years. He cheated on her, so she left him.”

  Jack studied Kennedy’s tearful performance. “She doesn’t look like the type a guy would cheat on.”

  Cullen shrugged. “Some guys like variety, I guess, regardless of how good the catch they have. Oh hell, now they’re both crying.” He stood up to comfort his wife, who was hugging Kennedy and openly sobbing. Jack stood up and pulled the microphone from Kennedy’s hand.

  “I guess that’s my cue,” he said as he offered her a cloth napkin to dab her eyes. “Kennedy’s good at the sappy stuff; I’m good at the funny stuff.”

  That elicited a round of appreciative chuckles, and then he launched into the first of several amusing stories about some of his partner’s less-than-stellar moments in life. Cullen’s brother stood up and joined him at the mic, and within a few short minutes, they had the crowd roaring with laughter, all at the groom’s expense.

  He took it good-naturedly, though, lifting his drink in mock toast and saying, “I’m pretty sure I finally got it right now,” just before he dipped his head and kissed his smiling wife.

  “Thanks for taking over,” Kennedy said as Jack dropped into the chair next to her. “I didn’t mean to get so emotional up there. I guess I’ve had a little too much to drink.”

  “Haven’t we all?” He lifted his glass and drained it. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a wedding?”

  She smiled and took another sip from her champagne glass. “I’m not sure “supposed to” is necessarily accurate. Although you’re right that it is pretty common.”

  “More champagne or something else?” he asked.

  “I like the champagne,” she admitted. “But I don’t know if there is any left.”

  “Sure there is,” he said, and he stood up and left the table. When he returned, he held a bottle of champagne in one hand and a glass of bourbon and Coke in the other. He filled her glass and stuffed the bottle into the ice bucket sitting at her elbow.

  “Where’d you get it?” Kennedy asked as she sipped at her drink.

  “Charmed it off one of the waitresses.”

  She shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Jack wanted to sleep with her, but he was not interested in anything more than a quick fling. Still, it irritated him that she thought he was that guy. Especially now that he knew her ex-husband had cheated on her. He didn’t want her to believe all guys were like her ex. Even though he intended for their affair to be brief, he wanted her to understand that she was special for that short time. Jack prided himself on the fact that none of his liaisons left the experience with a bitter taste in their mouth.

  “Come on, let’s mingle.” He held out his hand in invitation. She placed her hand into his, and he tugged her to her feet, leading her away from the table without releasing her hand.

  “Are you and Sabrina the only ones in the family who live in New Orleans?” he inquired as they walked.

  Kennedy nodded. “Practically everyone else lives in Dallas. That’s why Sabrina got married here, instead of in New Orleans.”

  “Is that what you’ll do, when you get married someday?”

  She shook her head. “Not getting married again.”

  Her tone bothered him. It was as if she were giving up on something without ever having given it a chance in the first place. Even though she had been married once before, he determined that one didn’t count. She hadn’t had any control in the way it ended.

  Whatever she might have replied was lost when she smiled fondly, clearly pleased about something. He was momentarily bowled over by the way the smile lit up her face before he shook it off and shifted his gaze to determine what caused her such obvious joy.

  “Who’s that?” he asked, nodding at the older couple and young man who were standing near the edge of the dance floor, talking animatedly. The woman in the group waved enthusiastically in their direction.

  Kennedy’s smile widened and she lifted her hand to wave back. “My parents. And my brother, Carter.”

  “Carter?” Jack arched his blond brow.

  Kennedy giggled. “My parents have a thing for presidential names.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “You have a problem with that, Jack?”

  “Actually, my name is Jackson.” He grinned cheekily when she continued giggling. He liked the sound of her giggle. He had the sense she didn’t do it often, and he felt a moment of pride that he was able to elicit the reaction so easily. He glanced at the half-empty champagne glass in her hand and decided to pretend she was so relaxed because of him, not the alcohol.

  “Let’s go say hi,” he suggested. As they walked toward the group, his gaze swept the room.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “The maid of honor.”

  “Still having issues with Vanessa?”

  “She’s drunk and she keeps hitting on me. And by the way, I’m definitely throwing off not interested vibes.”

  He liked the relieved look that flashed in her eyes. He liked that he was able to put it there.

  By the time they reached the gathering, another woman had joined them, wrapping her arms around Kennedy’s brother from behind, and resting her chin on his shoulder. He looked faintly embarrassed by the public display of affection.

  “That’s Sheryl, my brother’s girlfriend,” Kennedy whispered just before they stepped to within hearing distance of the small family gathering. “She’s a little much to take when you first meet her,” she warned.

  Kennedy’s parents were typical warm and friendly Southern folk. Both greeted Jack warmly, complimented him on his amusing speech, and thanked him for watching out for their daughter. Kennedy rolled her eyes.

  “He isn’t even my date, Mom,” she protested. “We just happened to be in the wedding party together.”

  Mrs. St. George eyed Jack
in a way that would make a lesser man uncomfortable. “You two sure looked good walking down the aisle together.”

  “Mo-o-o-m.”

  Kennedy’s annoyance at her mother’s broad hint made it easier for him to take it in stride. Otherwise, he might have gone running in the other direction. Matchmaking Mamas ranked up there with married women on his not interested list.

  “Maybe it’s just him,” Kennedy’s brother’s girlfriend purred. She straightened away from Carter and strutted over, surprising everyone by enveloping Jack in a full-body hug.

  Jack disengaged himself and chuckled. “Well, that’s a hell of a greeting.”

  Sheryl smiled coyly and batted heavily made-up blue eyes. “There’s more where that came from.”

  Carter scowled. His mother tried to divert everyone’s attention by speaking overly loudly about how lovely the wedding was, and how delicious the food was, and how adorable the bride and groom were.

  “Honey, we’re going to have to consider moving to New Orleans at this rate,” she said to her husband. “It seems every time one of the children on your side of the family gets married, that’s where they end up.”

  “Vanessa still lives in Dallas,” her husband remarked. “What about you, Carter? You going to move to New Orleans when you get married?”

  “Not getting married,” he said distractedly.

  Jack found it curious that both siblings were so anti-marriage when their parents appeared to have a healthy, loving relationship. Was he curious enough to ask Kennedy about it, or would that lead her to the wrong conclusion about what he expected out of today?

  Sheryl continued to flirt with him, making it easy to banish any thoughts regarding marriage and futures. Jack figured if Carter ever did want to get married, this was definitely not the right choice.

  Kennedy, he noticed, was assessing the situation. He suspected she was trying to determine a way to help her brother out of this embarrassing predicament. Before Jack could ascertain what she planned to do, she wrapped her arms around his bicep and said, “Come on, Jack. Dance with me.”

  He tossed her an amused look and politely excused them both before leading her out to the dance floor. “Sacrificing yourself for your brother’s happiness?” he teased.