18
THE FOLLOWING DAY, dressed in a navy silk chiffon dress, Jennifer rushed to the private banquet room in the restaurant hosting Marcie and Mark’s rehearsal dinner. With the rehearsal complete, the wedding party would arrive any minute, and she still needed to place the bride and groom’s gifts by the seating arrangement cards. She opened the double doors to the scent of lilacs, which adorned the center of the solid oak rectangular tables set in a U-shape. Removing the gifts from the bag on her shoulder, Jennifer rushed from seat to seat, carefully placing them in the proper locations.
She tried not to think about Bobby, who she hadn’t heard from all week. He’d left, Marcie had said, to return the night before the wedding, which was tonight.
Jennifer had willed herself to ask nothing more, and Marcie hadn’t volunteered any information. But Marcie knew something; Jennifer had seen it in her eyes. Ah—but Marcie and Bobby had years of secrets. All of which Jennifer had been excluded from. Nothing had changed. Nothing was ever going to change with Bobby.
She’d tried her hardest to tell herself she didn’t care. Which apparently required pulling extra hours at the clinic to avoid thinking herself insane, because she’d worked plenty of hours this past week.
Today though, she’d spent with helping Marcie and her mother, Sharon—who unlike Kate was tall with a short, blond spiky do—prepare for tonight and the wedding the next day.
Jennifer was halfway around the tables when she froze at the sight of a seating card with “Bobby Evans” on it.
“You didn’t expect me, I guess?”
His voice, oh, his voice. Why did Bobby’s voice have to be so deep and sexy? Why did it have to stroke her inside out and send chills down her spine?
She inhaled a discreet, relaxing breath and then lifted her gaze to his, noting the black suit and white shirt with a navy-blue tie that matched her dress. Either he’d asked Marcie what Jennifer was wearing or he’d taken a guess based on her love of that color. Either way, it wasn’t scoring him any points after days of silence. He did silence too damn well.
“You aren’t part of the wedding party,” she commented, and moved forward to set the next gift by a place setting.
Bobby let the door shut behind him. His blond hair was longer than she remembered, his blue eyes glistening with sensuality. “Mark made me an honorary best man for keeping everyone out of jail. It seemed to leave a lasting impression.”
Oh, now, that made her mad. She turned away from him and started putting out the rest of her gifts. She was out of time anyway.
He laughed. “No comment?”
She cut him a look. “No,” she said lightly. “No comment.”
“You aren’t going to ask where I’ve been?”
Mad again. Oh, so mad. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Not yet. “No, I am not. In fact…”
Jennifer set the last gift in its place, and picked up her name card that was next to Bobby’s—no doubt, by Marcie’s doing. She then walked to the other side of the table, snagged someone else’s name card, and replaced it with hers. Jennifer returned to the seat beside Bobby’s and set the new place card down. “There. Now we don’t have to make conversation at all.”
The doors behind him burst open as a slew of guests overwhelmed the room. Bobby faded into the crowd, and she wished he would fade from her awareness. No matter who she mingled with, no matter what she did, Jennifer could feel Bobby close, feel him watching her, feel him as if he were touching her.
Soon, they were all seated and chatting, and Bobby sat, much to her chargin, directly across from her. How—how—had he managed that little trick?
Every cell of her body felt Bobby’s presence. Even her wine tasted of him, sin and satisfaction. She sipped it, allowing the waiter to take her salad plate when her gaze caught on the waitress across the table leaning in close to Bobby. Flirting. He laughed at something she said, and Jennifer felt her nerves prickle and turn to fire.
Abruptly, Bobby’s gaze lifted and caught on Jennifer’s, his eyes narrowing far too intuitively, as if he sensed the edge crackling off her. Her hand tightened on her wineglass in an effort to keep it steady as she lowered it to the table with slow care. She would not be jealous. She was not jealous.
The waitress leaned down and said something else to Bobby, and Jennifer pushed to her feet, and headed toward the hallway. A fast detour to her right, and she was down the stairwell leading to the private, single-stall restroom she’d found earlier that night. She shoved open the door and pushed inside, but the temporary relief of privacy faded as Bobby tugged her back into the hallway. Jennifer was caught between his big body and the door.
THANKFUL FOR THE STAIRWELL that offered privacy, Bobby’s hands settled on Jennifer’s waist. Did she really think he’d let her run away? Of course, she didn’t know he’d spent the past few days working on a plan to ensure she knew he was here to stay. But she would. Soon.
“What do you think you are doing?” she asked, her voice low, full of demand.
“You were jealous,” he accused.
“I was not jealous!” she insisted.
“I went to high school with that waitress, Jen,” he said, noting the flush on Jennifer’s cheeks. The fullness of her kissable bottom lip quivered ever-so-slightly. “There was no flirting. Just reminiscing.”
“Oh, there was flirting,” she said, and looked instantly as if she regretted the statement, her fingers curling into her palms.
He arched a brow. “So you were jealous?”
“No!”
His lips twitched. “I wasn’t flirting,” he promised. “Except with you.”
She pressed her hand to his chest. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“Well, I need you to hear it,” he countered. “I need you to know there is no other woman that matters and I won’t let you create one to run away from me.” He lowered his voice. “From us.” He leaned closer, inhaling her scent. “You owe me a night. You promised.”
She drew back, her hand falling from his chest and almost returning before she caught herself. “You can’t be serious.”
“I couldn’t be more serious,” he said, molding her closer, and bringing her hand back to his chest in the process. Warmth seeped through his skin, scorching him.
“I did not,” she said. “You don’t get to decide when we see each other, and when we don’t. You don’t come and go as you please. I told you. I’m done.”
Footsteps sounded and then, “Jennifer?” Marcie stopped dead halfway down the stairs. “Whoops. Didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just worried about you two.”
Jennifer glared at Bobby. “Let me go.”
Bobby stared down at her, trying to decide if he really wanted to do that.
Marcie cleared her throat. “Ah…no rush. I’ll just head back to the table.”
“I’m coming with you,” Jennifer said quickly.
Bobby pressed his forehead to hers, and spoke in a low voice. “Marcie needs you tonight,” he said. “But I need you, too.” He stepped back, but not without claiming her hand again. “I’m going to show you how much, Jen. Tomorrow, after the wedding. I promise.”
BOTH IN THEIR pj’s, ready for the before-the-wedding slumber party of two, Jennifer tried to coax Marcie into sleep. “It’s no sleep that makes your eyes puffy, Marc. You need to sleep, and you’re wound up like the Energizer bunny.”
Marcie just pursed her lips, eyes wide open. Meanwhile, Jennifer sat down in the chair she and Bobby had shared the night of the party, trying to forget how good lying there in his arms had felt.
“I can’t believe it’s tomorrow,” Marcie said and reached for her cell phone.
“Please,” Jennifer said. “Do not check your messages again.”
“What if—”
“The wedding planner calls?” Jennifer finished. “The phone would ring. We’re right here.”
Marcie crossed then recrossed her legs and set her phone down. “I’m making you crazy.”
“No,
” Jennifer replied. “You’re making you crazy. I’m fine. After all—I have a broken heart and a lime dress.” She rolled her eyes and said at the same time as Marcie, “Yellow-green.” Jennifer glowered. “Not a color. Looked it up in the dictionary.”
“Fine,” Marcie said. “It’s lime, but I enjoyed making you say yellow-green. That whole ‘bride has the power’ thing.”
“Only I never said yellow-green,” she reminded her.
“No,” Marcie said, and snickered. “But the other girls did. So did the wedding planner.”
Jennifer laughed. “Oh, you are bad, Marcie.”
“Yeah,” she said, scooting to the headboard to lean against it. “Mark was in on the joke. He thought it was pretty funny, but then, he gets my bizarre sense of humor.” She sat back up. “I’m so nervous.”
“Calm down,” Jennifer instructed, plumping pillows.
“Okay, so distract me from my wedding nerves and tell me about the hot, welcome-back sex that you and Bobby have had the last week,” she said.
“Welcome back? Right. He comes and goes without a word, and I’m supposed to keep welcoming him back with sex? I don’t think so.”
Marcie studied Jennifer a long while. “Did you ask where he was?”
“Do you know?”
“No,” she said. “But Bobby is Special Forces. If he could have told you where he went, I’m sure he would have.”
“He could have told me he had a work situation,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Marcie asked. “Maybe he was forbidden. Look, Jen, you and Bobby saved our party. Then, you turned around and saved our wedding. You gave us another chance. You’re good together.” But they weren’t together. They were always apart. And even when they were together, she would always wonder when he’d be gone. She eyed Marcie. “Go to sleep, hon. Tomorrow, you are going to marry the man of your dreams.” And Jennifer was going to say a final farewell to hers.
19
THE WEDDING DAY WAS HECTIC, but the weather was beautiful, the church perfect aside from the fact that her mother caught the flu and her father wouldn’t be present to make Bobby squirm. Of course, her father liked Bobby, so why give Bobby a chance to win him over again? Aside from the Bobby situation, Marcie was a wreck, and her mother wasn’t much better. And as they neared the fifteen-minute mark before the big event, Jennifer tried to be the calming force in the dressing room. She was failing miserably.
“My shoes,” Marcie said, a hint of hysteria in her voice. “I can’t find my shoes.”
“Hold on, dear,” her mother said, looking tall and elegant in a fitted, pale green suit dress, her voice pretending her normal coolness when she was anything but. Still she added confidently, “I’ll find them.”
The next thing Jennifer knew, the room was awash in lime-green, frantic females as the shoes were nowhere to be found.
“Oh, my God!” Marcie screamed. “I left them on my bed!”
Sharon and the bridal party all gasped in unison. Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut.
“My shoes!” Marcie screamed.
“Her shoes!” Sharon screamed, no longer maintaining her facade of cool.
The girls began a rumble of worried chatter.
“Everyone out!” Jennifer said, her lashes snapping open. “Go to the next room. Marcie needs calm.” Good grief, Jennifer needed calm. And the night of no sleep, as she replayed every last second with Bobby these past two weeks, did not help. Nor did knowing she was going to see him any minute.
Everyone stared at Jennifer, as if shocked that she’d dared demand they leave. Sharon piped in, “Go! Mother has spoken.”
The girls quickly turned obedient and rushed to the connecting dressing room, pulling the door shut.
Jennifer straightened, running her hand over the formfitting, lime-green silk of her knee-length dress and hoping it traveled well. “I’ll go get the shoes.”
“There’s no time,” Marcie said frantically, her veil whisking behind her as she began to pace.
“Stop pacing,” Sharon reprimanded. “You’ll mess up the hem of your dress.”
Marcie whirled on her mother, brushing a red ringlet gently back from her brow, her veil already in place. “I have no shoes, Mother. There’s no time to get the shoes.”
“I’ll make it in time,” Jennifer insisted. “And if we start five minutes late, who cares?”
“That’s right,” Sharon said. “Who cares!”
“I’m going,” Jennifer said, rushing forward and starting to hug Marcie and then stopping in her tracks. “Okay. Pretend I hugged you and was really supportive. I don’t want to mess anything up.”
“Hurry, Jen,” Marcie said. “Please hurry.”
Jennifer was already grabbing the necessary keys, and heading to the door. “And don’t get anything on your dress!” Marcie called.
Right, Jennifer thought. No problem. It wasn’t like she was having a rash of clumsiness or anything. She rushed out into the hallway and cut past the connected hall where the men were dressing. Bobby’s voice rumbled in the air as a door opened, and she caught a quick glimpse of blond hair and broad shoulders in his honorary best man tuxedo.
Her heart skipped a beat as she hit the red exit button on the side of the door and pushed the lever. Only it didn’t open. She hit the button again, her gaze lifting to find Bobby headed in her direction, those long legs carrying him toward her far too quickly.
“Jennifer,” he called.
“Gotta go!” she said. “Errand for the bride.” She shoved the bar on the door, and this time it opened for her. She rushed away. She was on a quest for shoes, not Bobby. Never Bobby. Always Bobby. Damn him.
She rushed across the paved parking lot and cringed. Someone had blocked her car. No. No! This wasn’t happening.
“I thought only the bride and groom ran away at the altar,” Bobby asked from behind her.
Another squeeze-your-eyes-shut moment followed, this time with the added bonus of heat pooling low in her stomach at the sound of the man’s voice.
She inhaled and turned, trying hard not to show the crushing heat in her chest at the gloriously sexy way he filled out his tuxedo. “I need a ride. As in now. Marcie left her shoes at her house.”
Those twinkling blue eyes turned worried. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.” He yanked his keys from his pocket and motioned her to the right. To a pickup truck. An F150 like he’d said he had back at the base.
Jennifer stopped dead in her tracks. “You’re in that truck?”
His eyes lit with challenge. “I told you I drive an F150.”
A funny feeling swelled in her chest. “How’d it get here?”
“I drove it,” he said and arched a brow. “Now. Don’t we need those shoes?”
Shaking herself, Jennifer started forward. “Yes. Shoes.” She headed for the passenger’s side of the truck. Bobby followed and unlocked it automatically. It was high. Her dress was snug at the knees, and pulling it up would wrinkle it.
“Need help?” Bobby asked, a second before his arms were around her, scooping her up and carefully setting her in the truck.
Oh, God. He made her feel delicate and protected. Jennifer didn’t want to depend on Bobby and have him be gone, but having him come to her rescue now felt so darn good.
His hand settled on her thigh, his eyes alight with male appreciation. “I wouldn’t want your dress to get messed up. Especially when you make it look so good.” The next thing she knew he was shutting the door of the truck and rushing to the driver’s side.
He climbed into the truck and started the engine. They were on the main road in seconds. “I guess Marcie needed one last wedding disaster before the big moment,” he said, chuckling. The sound was rich and masculine, and Jennifer found herself laughing as well.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I’ll need a honeymoon to recover from Marcie’s wedding.” Too late she realized her misstep and she gulped.
“Where,” he said, casting her a teasing smile, “would you wa
nt to go for this honeymoon?”
“I didn’t mean honeymoon,” she corrected, her heart about to explode right out of her chest. “I meant vacation.”
“Semantics,” he said.
“It is not,” she said and bit back another word. He was baiting her, and in her heart, she wanted it to be for all the right reasons. But she was scared. “Is the truck supposed to convince me you’re here to stay? And don’t tell me you got out of the Army. Well, you can always go back in with a simple Dear Jen letter.”
He gave an incline of his head and turned down Mark and Marcie’s street, which was thankfully, not far from the church.
“All right. I won’t tell you I got out of the Army.” He turned into the driveway.
Okay. She couldn’t breathe. “Did you?”
He smiled. “You told me not to tell you.” He popped the door of his truck open. “Stay here and protect your dress. Where are the shoes and keys?”
Keys. Keys. Where were the keys. “Purse,” she said. “My purse.” She grabbed it and handed him the keys. “Shoes are on the bed. I hope.” His hand closed over the keys and caressed her fingers a moment too long. Had he gotten out? Had he?
He was gone, though, rushing across the lawn in long masculine strides that had her mouth going dry.
She sat there, her mind racing, fingers curled in her palms. Bobby was making her crazy. Her cell rang, and she dug it out of her purse, knowing it was Marcie without looking at caller ID.
“I’m at the house,” Jennifer said. “Back in five minutes.”
“Is Bobby with you, because word is, he left to get Mark a bottle of water and never came back.”
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