"You know, if you married this guy, there could be perks in this for me, too." Mikey rested his chin on his palm and stroked the three chin hairs he considered a beard in contemplation.
"If you didn't look so much like Dad, I'd think they switched babies at the hospital when you were born." Jemma shook her head in disbelief. "Anthony is not Mafia. Not to mention, I only just met this guy, so marriage plans aren't exactly in the works. You'll be the first to know though," she said sarcastically, turning away from him, messing with the dishes, but really just wanting him to go away.
"Believe what you want."
"Trust me, I will. It really is too bad that you have to leave now." She turned around to punctuate her statement with a glare.
Confusion clouded Mikey's face for a moment, but he finally stood, shaking his head. She escorted him to the door.
Turning back toward her in the open door, he exclaimed, "I can't wait to tell Dad!"
Jemma grabbed her brother by the front of his shirt, pulled his face down close to hers, and said, "The guy I went out with last night is not Little Ant'ny. Got it?"
"Fine, whatever you say, Evil Jemma. Is Nice Jemma even still in there?" He looked deeply into her eyes, switching from one to the other as his face closed in on hers.
Pushing her forehead to his, she hissed in her best demonic voice, "She's sleeping. She was up late last night."
Mikey grabbed his sister by the shoulders and removed her from the front of his shirt. "I see how it is. Mr. Sexy got the good Jemma, and I have to put up with you." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "I love both of you the same, though."
Jemma patted his cheek. "We love you, too."
She shut the door behind him, and "This Kiss" filled the air again. She sprinted to her nightstand to answer her phone. Breathless, she answered as she sprawled across her bed. "Hello?"
"Did I catch you in the middle of something?" Anthony asked, curios humor fusing his voice.
"I was just escorting my brother out. My phone was charging in the bedroom, so I ran for it."
"Uh, your apartment is so tiny."
"Yeah, I'd join a gym, but there's no need to pay for something I'll only use once and pay for every month for the rest of my life because I might go back again someday." She knew she was babbling, but it was more of a defensive mechanism not to ask him any stupid questions.
Is your nickname Little Ant'ny? Damn you, Mikey!
"Okay, I'm making a mental note right now not to take you on any gym dates, then. Does watching a sport count?" His sarcasm was punctuated with a laugh. "I had my friend switch out those Springfield Cardinals tickets for next Saturday and thought you might like to join me. I don't want to put any of that gym pressure on you though." His words, light and jovial, removed the Mafia thoughts from her mind.
"Well, that depends on what time the game starts. I have a six o'clock wedding to photograph, so I doubt that would work unless it's a late game. I'll be done around eight-ish though."
"Hmm, the game starts at seven-ten, so that won't work."
She sensed disappointment within his words, not that she was any happier about it. "I'm sorry. I'd really like to go, but duty calls." She tried to add the girly giggle, but it sounded forced even to her own ears.
"Okay, from which church should I pick you up?"
The sun broke through the gloominess, and she rose to a sitting position on the side of her bed. "The First Presbyterian on south Lone Pine. Need directions?"
"No, I know the part of town well. I happen to live nearby. How does a home cooked supper at my place sound? We could go out dancing afterward."
Guilt gave Jemma a brisk tap on the shoulder. "What about the ball game? I don't want you to miss it because of me."
"I'd much rather spend time with you. The tickets are a friend's season passes he isn't using this month. We'll have other opportunities. Perhaps a weeknight? That is, unless a lot of people get married on Tuesdays?"
"No, that hasn't made it to the top of many brides' days-to-get-married lists yet." She tried desperately to reign in her giddiness.
After saying their goodbyes, Jemma put her phone back on the nightstand and stared at the bedroom partition, contemplating her upcoming date. Knowing she would have to come clean with him about her past with Dalton, her inner selves sparred in a whirlwind of angst, confusion, guilt, and passion. She finally decided it could wait until after the date.
Now, faced with a different struggle, she mentally tried to play through their dinner without throwing herself into his arms and begging him to take her to bed. She couldn't come up with anything, short of taking on her brother's mannerisms or canceling the date altogether, that worked without ending up horizontally. Perhaps it was time for her vow of celibacy to come to an end.
She jumped to her feet and scurried to the dresser. Digging through the underwear drawer, she pulled out two different bra and panty sets, opposite ends of the spectrum different. In one hand she held tan granny panties and a matching padded bra, in the other, a slinky, black lacy bra and thong set. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and let out a huge groan. The tan combo was basically birth control in and of itself, saving the ensuing, unbelievable, mind blowing sex for another date. The black lacy number, well, she would be ready to hop into his arms and have at it, birth control of other forms definitely needed. She folded them neatly in two separate piles as a reminder of the important decision to be made this week.
She groaned again. Like she wouldn't remember without them lying there.
CHAPTER NINE
The weekdays ticked by at the slowest pace she'd ever experienced. All of her years in elementary school seemed to have passed faster than the last few days. Finally, she arrived at the wedding she'd scheduled prior to her date, and her mind slipped into automatic pilot. This gave her a brief reprieve from the angst and excitement that'd been tag-teaming her nerves. Several times over the past days she'd considered just telling Tony on the phone about Dalton. It was fleeting, considering ex-boyfriends weren't casual topic material and would undoubtedly take his undivided attention.
Jemma absentmindedly brushed her bangs from her forehead for the umpteenth time, a nervous tick she'd had since childhood that drove her mother crazy. She smoothed the dark blue material of her long skirt and walked along the perimeter of the enormous church. Her meticulous, watchful eye never left the happy couple at the altar. Pulling her new camera up, she carefully peered through the viewfinder and brought them into focus.
Click!
She felt the familiar tug of satisfaction, knowing she'd just captured a keepsake moment. That very feeling never got old and was what led her into photography to begin with. Finding those moments her clients always wanted to remember, preserving them for eternity in the perfect photo, was almost euphoric.
The rest of the wedding and reception went off without a hitch. Jemma furthered her career-induced high by posing the wedding party for the still shots right after the ceremony; her own personal Barbie dolls. Going to great lengths to be sure she had done the couple justice, covering every single, minute detail and tossing in some fun poses, she lost track of time, completely caught up in her work.
As she finished downloading her photos to her laptop, she noticed it was after eight. She slapped her computer shut and gathered her things in a heated rush.
Her mind switched back into Conflicted-Jemma mode, allowing thoughts of Tony and their date to crowd to the forefront. Earlier, she'd donned her black lacy underwear set at the last minute, but only after changing at least four times. She hadn't yet decided if she was truly strong enough to say no to him, or just plain delusional.
She shook her head as she rushed out the front doors of the church, knowing full well it was the latter. Scanning the parking lot, she turned her cell phone back on. Her heart sank when she didn't see his car.
Headlights shimmered from a spot several rows back, causing her heart to flip-flop back into place. His car pulled around and entered the ove
rhang in front of the church. A smile inched its way across her face. He hastily shoved the car into park and sprang from his vehicle before she could even put her things down. It was fun to see how fast he could move to open her door before she could. The whole scenario was reminiscent of her and her father, to see who could push the other's buttons first.
She liked Tony's version much better.
His eyes sparkled mischievously as his hand grasped the handle and whipped the door open for her. "I thought you had me this time."
"Lucky break. My hands were full." Winking, she climbed into the car as he loaded her things into his trunk.
Tony slid into the driver's seat and leaned across the console between them, placing a light touch on the side of her face. "Are you ready for a taste sensation right out of Italy?"
Jemma's mind took a complete detour around food with him in such close proximity. She raked her hand across his chest. "I'm always ready for your kisses." She tugged the front of his shirt toward her, bringing his lips onto hers. The brief kiss sparked a jolt of excitement through her entire body.
"Whew." Tony pulled his door shut and put the car into drive. "I was referring to my pasta, but this beats anything I can cook." He turned an ornery side-gaze toward her. "In the kitchen, anyway."
His house, only a short drive from the church, exceeded anything Jemma could have imagined. A two story all brick home, complete with wooden shake shingles, filled the hillside as they drove onto the long, circular drive. Tony took a small lane around the side and into a three stall garage that branched off of the back of the house. They pulled into the far bay, and she admired the new Jeep Wrangler parked next to them. Hurrying around to her door, Tony grabbed the handle as she pushed it open. He shook his head in temporary defeat and offered her his hand. Jemma accepted it graciously and stood up next to him.
Their gazes locked as Tony gripped her waist and gently pressed her against the cool metal of the neighboring SUV.
His eyes narrowed as he dropped his forehead against hers. "You started this. I just want to make that clear."
Jemma feigned innocence, though obviously not well enough to convince him. Not that she really wanted to, either.
His lips brushed against hers, and his body did much the same. The room seemed to sway as his lips parted against hers. Fingers inched down her body until they found her hands, entwining with hers. He slowly guided her arms up over her head and pressed them against the glass of the vehicle.
Jemma released a soft sigh of pleasure into his mouth.
A beeping noise burst the fragile bubble. Tony stopped kissing her and placed his forehead against hers again. "Chicken's done."
"Well, we don't want it to go to waste," Jemma said, a weak smile her only attempt to cover her disappointment.
Letting go of one hand and tugging her along by the other, Tony escorted her through the laundry room off of the garage and into his kitchen. He pulled out a chair for her at the center bar and walked around to the stove to remove the chicken before it burned.
Jemma soaked in her surroundings with awe. They shared a love for stainless steel in their kitchens. All of his appliances were stainless, as well as his sink and huge exhaust fan over the massive gas cook stove. Dark gray marble countertops accented his deep cherry cabinets. Enormous, the kitchen would take up her whole apartment.
"Your kitchen is gorgeous." She propped her elbows on the counter, placed her chin in her palms, and watched him remove the baked chicken breasts from the pan and put them onto a serving tray.
"Thanks. I spend most of my time in here, so I figured I should make sure it was precisely what I wanted. I love to cook."
Please tell me you love cleaning up afterward, too.
"If I didn't have to do dishes and clean the kitchen later, I'd have gourmet meals every day."
Damn, so close.
"Cooking is not something I've ever really excelled at. I'm not sure where I went wrong. My mother is an excellent cook. Still, I know how to make the basics and can get by." Jemma inhaled the enticing aroma, and a hint of lemon pepper made her salivate. "Is there anything I can help with?"
"No, as a matter of fact, follow me." Tony reached for her hand, and she laced her fingers with his.
"Is this because of my cooking comment? I promise I've never killed anyone."
Tony chuckled in response but kept tugging her along.
They passed through a dining room with dark blue walls and a large, ornate cherry wood table surrounded by eight matching chairs. A simple, yet elegant chandelier hung over it, the crystals casting sparkly patterns throughout the room. An elaborate china hutch held a set of gorgeous dinnerware embossed with ivy and trimmed in gold. When they entered the living room, Jemma's breath caught in her chest. An enormous fireplace stopped her in her tracks. The stones resembled those of an old castle.
Tony switched his gaze between her and the fireplace then waggled a brow. "That goes all the way through the second story, which just so happens to be my bedroom. If you're nice, I might let you see it later." A sensuous grin curled one side of his lips.
"Honest? You'd do that for me? How nice," she said, sweet sarcasm dripping from her words. Jemma matched his smirk and followed him through the patio doors to the backyard.
Her fascination with the fireplace paled in comparison as she surveyed the huge brick deck. A café table and two chairs were tucked away in one corner. A white cloth covered the tabletop, along with two place settings of the china she'd just admired. Two crystal flutes and heavy silverware finished the ensemble. Next to the table stood an ornate silver stand, a bucket filled with a bottle of champagne nestled in ice on top. Lit candles, set on every available surface, danced in the light breeze. The deck stepped down to two other levels spotted with deck chairs and canopies then gave way to a lit, kidney shaped swimming pool.
"This is amazing," she whispered, as though she might scare it away.
"It's my second favorite place to be." He led her to the table, pulled out her chair, and poured a glass of champagne. "Enjoy this while I finish up with our meal." He kissed her forehead and disappeared back into the house.
The evening air cooled her skin, a welcome relief from the day's earlier heat. Jemma brought the glass to her lips and enjoyed the tiny bubbles tickling her nose as she tasted it. Smooth, sweet, and decadent.
Kicking her flats off under the table, she took her glass and sauntered down toward the water. The pool glittered, a small waterfall at the end sending ripples across the smooth surface. She walked around the edge, admiring the view. She couldn't help but look back into the living room, follow the fireplace upward, and stare into the window of Tony's bedroom. She pictured him as a king-sized kind of guy. Giggling at the many nuances of 'king-sized,' she turned her attention back toward not taking an unexpected swim.
Standing sideways, she dipped a toe into the inviting water. Cool and refreshing, it tempted her to strip down and dive in. She thought better of it and set her glass down carefully, before bunching her skirt up around her thighs and sitting on the edge. Slowly, she immersed her dangling feet into the silky depths.
Leaning back on one hand, she picked up the champagne flute with her other, and kicked her feet out, splashing water into the air. Tony pushed the patio door open with his hip and carried their plates to the table.
He laughed and shook his head while arranging their meal on the table. "Come eat before it gets cold."
Jemma struggled to a standing position with as much dignity as she could manage, simultaneously making every effort not to topple head-first into the water. Managing both, she picked up her glass and made a cautious trek back to the table.
"It smells heavenly." She sat, and he helped her scoot toward the table.
Pouring her another drink and himself a first, he wedged the linen-wrapped bottle back into the ice. He lifted his glass for a toast, and she leaned across to touch her glass to his.
"What shall we drink to?" he asked.
"Worl
d peace?" She feigned innocence at first. "How about drinking to us?"
"Perfect. To us." He tipped his glass, clinking it against hers.
"To us," Jemma repeated and took a sip. She did her best to concentrate on the food in front of her, instead of his king-sized bed.
The chicken breasts lay on top of a bed of tortellini and marinara sauce. Slices of bread filled a basket between their plates with two small bowls of Greek salad to the side. He'd obviously gone to great lengths to make sure everything was perfect. She watched him cut a piece of his chicken, spear a ring of tortellini on his fork, and raise it to his mouth.
Hmm, he has great lips.
Evidently, she stared a little too long.
"Is something wrong?" Tony returned his fork to his plate with the food untouched.
"Nope, I was just enjoying the view." Her stare lingered on his lips.
Mischief danced in his eyes, but he pointed to her plate, playfully barking, "Eat."
She sat up straight in her chair and saluted. "Yes, sir." She took a bite and instantly knew it was one of the best meals she'd ever experienced. She stopped herself before she got too full, remembering they would be dancing later—or other things that would be uncomfortable on a full stomach.
She grinned at the thought of those other things.
"You look positively evil right now."
"Just thinking," she purred.
"Would those thoughts include leather?" He punctuated his statement with a wink.
"No, but you're on the right track."
Reaching over to a shelf next to the table, Tony flipped on the stereo. The familiar tinkling of piano music brought a brilliant smile to Jemma's lips. The song "As Time Goes By" filled the night air.
"Care to dance?" Tony reached a hand across the table.
"I'd love to." She placed her hand in his and was tugged into his embrace.
He spun her around the patio as though they were one person. His body pressed tightly to hers as he stared intently into her eyes. As the song played on, she became more and more aware of his cologne, his touch, with each sway. When the song came to an end and another began, he stopped abruptly. He slid a finger across her cheek; his thumb traced the outline of her bottom lip, his eyes intent on every place he touched. Jemma's heart and mind melted into a passion filled puddle; her only tangible thought was that she might stop breathing if he didn't kiss her.
My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding Page 6
