This man possessed depths he hid from the world.
The same way she did.
But we’re nothing alike. We come from two completely different worlds. Why do I like him so much?
As if hearing her silent query, he opened his eyes and beckoned her with a knowing smile. “Come,” he mouthed, his hands gesturing in a way that couldn’t be denied.
She stepped forward, feeling the swell of the music matching the war of emotions inside her. Did Scheherazade feel this hesitation when she faced her lover—her husband, right? A brutal sultan who had his wives put to death after they’d pleasured him, if Amanda remembered correctly. Did he woo them with a sexy, inviting smile like the one on Tucker’s face as he pulled her toward him.
The silky fabric clung to her breasts, her already sensitive nipples straining against the nearly transparent material. His gaze lingered on her breasts like a kiss and then dropped to the V at the junction of her legs. She watched Tucker’s arousal grow with each step. When he licked his lips, she swore she felt his mouth on her, teasing, tasting.
“Titillating,” she said breathlessly.
The music lifted to an excited crescendo just as they touched. She closed her eyes and let herself melt into his gifted hands. They fell together naturally, rolling to the middle of the bed.
He parted the two halves of silk, rubbing a corner against his cheek. “Not as soft as your skin, but I like the colors. May I?” he asked, pulling the fabric free.
She lifted her chest and shoulders. Once he had the entire scarf free, he took it in his hands and smiled. “Do you trust me?”
“No.”
He gave her a hurt look that made her laugh.
“Maybe a little.”
He brightened. “I only need a little. This won’t hurt. I promise.” Then he wound the fabric around her wrists and pinned her hands above her head. Her chest, heart and torso felt ridiculously exposed but when he released his hold and made his way down her body, his lips and tongue tasting and exploring as she’d pictured in her fantasy, she let go of her anxiety and relaxed. She’d never felt as worshipped.
“You are perfection,” he said, his voice a low, possessive growl. “The darkness of the car did you a huge disservice.”
Disservice. Another anomaly that caught for a second in her consciousness before disappearing into a gasp when his mouth sucked and pulled her need to the front and center of her focus.
She threw herself into the music, the feeling and the pure emotion she couldn’t remember experiencing before this man came into her life. She didn’t want that to mean more than it did, but she couldn’t put that particular genie back in the bottle even if she wanted to.
Did she want to make this emotion go away?
No. She liked him. Maybe more than like, but she wasn’t going to think about that. She wasn’t looking ahead. For now, sex with Tucker was all she needed, and she needed all he could give her.
Chapter Nine
“What’s all this?” Amanda asked the Wednesday after their primo night of parking, sex and Rimsky-Korsakov.
Tucker held up his hand to keep her from messing up his count. “Fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. That should be enough.”
“Enough of what for what?”
Amanda set her purse on the counter and walked to the table where Tucker had laid out his assortment of glow sticks. He’d borrowed Flynn’s truck to drive to Bozeman to hit a major retail party goods chain. “Props for the wedding. In addition to these, I’ve got balloons, poppers and mini-squirt guns. I’m in charge of the kids’ performance.”
She blinked in surprise.
“You didn’t hear about this? Flynn’s brother, Ryker, and Mia Zabrinski are getting hitched on Saturday. The ceremony is going to be outdoors at their new home, which isn’t quite done. You know how it goes with construction. But they’ve set up giant tents and I gave them the name of the sanitation company I’m using at the zip line. It’s going to be great.”
She picked up one of the mini-glow sticks as if she’d never seen one before.
He sidled up beside her and showed her how to attach the individual sticks. “The kids are going to make necklaces and ankle bracelets for one of the dances.” He pulled out a squirt gun. “I wanted to use sparklers, but Mia nixed the idea. Although she liked the nostalgia of the image, she remembered stepping on a hot wire and not liking it very much. So, water instead of fire.”
She pulled out a neon blue Ruger and pretended to shoot him.
He clasped both hands to his heart dramatically. “So, that’s how this ends, huh?”
He was kidding, of course, but she dropped the toy gun to the table and shook her head. “No. It ends when we both go back to our real lives.”
He knew that. But the idea of never seeing her again made him a little queasy. “Does it have to end, Amanda? I’ve been thinking. American Male has gigs in the New York area three or four times a year. We could get together when I’m in town.”
She turned, her new running shoes making a squeaky sound against the wood flooring. “We could, but we probably won’t. I’m starting over, pretty much from scratch. All the names and contacts I made at my last job stayed in-house. My company was big on team effort; they never made too much of a single employee’s contribution for this very reason. They didn’t want their clients to follow the talent.”
He followed her to the counter, leaning on his elbows to give his ankle a rest. “That sucks.”
She shrugged. “It’s business.”
“So, why go back to the rat race? Why not set up your own business? You’ve got the chops. There’s obviously a call for what you do.”
She smiled indulgently. “Website design is a nice sideline, but the big money is in advertising. Print, media, online.”
“I get that. What you’re doing for my grand opening is amazing. I didn’t look around to see who your competition is locally, but I’d think the Internet would level the playing field. You don’t have to live in New York City to design a campaign for someone in, say, The Netherlands.”
He could see her resistance to his idea, even if he didn’t understand it. “But, my family is there.”
“Oh. Your safety net.”
She turned her head sharply. “What did you say?”
Oops. Stepped in it. “Sometimes, family can be the support you need to launch your dreams; sometimes, it’s a rock that pulls you under while you’re trying to reach dry land.”
“Which was yours?”
“Ona and Granddad greased the skids before they kicked me out of the nest,” he said, truthfully. There’d never been any question that he would pursue a higher education. He’d always been privy to the steady growth of a college fund his maternal grandparents had set up when he was a baby. To appease their guilt of robbing him of a mother? “But I always knew they were there for me if I needed help.” Like starting my zip line.
She didn’t volunteer anything about her family, but he’d made assumptions based on the daily communication between Amanda and her mother where Molly’s house was concerned. They treated her like hired help, expecting everything to be done with immediate perfection while offering neither praise nor gratitude.
“Molly has to have blood drawn. The flooring is going in today. Will you be here to let them in?”
“Yes. I’m wading through online employment applications this afternoon. I’d be glad to help.”
“Thank you.”
As she reached for the doorknob, he asked the question he’d been debating all day, “Would you consider being my Plus One to Ryker and Mia’s wedding on Saturday?”
She looked at him but didn’t answer right away so he delivered the sales pitch he’d been practicing in his head, even as his conscience argued, “Bad idea. People will get the wrong impression.” His friends would get the wrong impression if he brought a date to this wedding. “It’s being billed as the social event of the summer.”
“What makes you think I’m not already invited, wi
th a Plus One of my own?”
Tucker felt his cheeks heat up. “Oh. That’s right. You’ve been working with Mia on a logo for the new Big Sky Mavericks charitable foundation. I forgot.”
She smiled that heart-twisting grin that got him every time. “We have, but she didn’t invite me to the wedding. Not surprising considering how much she has on her plate at the moment. I’m actually dying to go. So, yes. Thank you. I’d love to be your Plus One.”
“Great.”
Once the door closed behind her, he returned to his organization. Great. Sort of.
Was she dying to go so she could be his date or because she wanted to watch a woman she barely knew get married? The Full Mountie side of him had one opinion. The little boy whose mom missed every single school play he’d ever been in had a different take on the subject.
“Amanda,” Mia Zabrinski-Bensen said shortly after the simple, but poetically personal marriage ceremony officiated by Mia’s cousin, Samantha Zabrinski, an ordained pastor who’d recently moved to Montana from Michigan. “I’m so glad you’re here. Did you come with Tucker? Thank God. It hit me at about two o’clock this morning that I’d forgotten to send you an invitation.”
“Yes, I came with Tucker. No worries. You’ve had a few million other things on your mind. But I’m so happy to be here because you look amazing,” Amanda said, returning Mia’s hug. “Like Tinker Bell come to life and all grown up. I love your dress.”
Possibly couture, definitely the most beautiful ballet-length gown Amanda had ever seen. The strapless sweetheart neckline and fitted bodice showcased Mia’s tanned shoulders and tiny waist perfectly. When Mia twirled, the handkerchief bottom of the rose-patterned lace, trimmed with satin ribbon and embedded with seed pearls and Swarovski crystals lifted and floated about her like a cloud of pure joy. “I do, too. I wasn’t sure about white—it’s my second marriage, but Ryker insisted on this dress in white, not ivory, because it’s my first marriage to him.”
Her laugh made everyone around them smile, including Amanda. She felt Tucker’s gaze before she spotted him shaking hands with the groom. “Best ceremony ever,” he said. “Nothing could possibly surpass that...unless the kid show comes off the way I hope it will.”
Ryker’s best man, his brother, Flynn, gave Tucker a friendly fist bump and said, “My inside source tells me it’s going to be wicked cool.” To Amanda, he added, “Kat’s son, Brady. I warned him not to get close to the bride with his squirt gun, but Mia claimed to have a supersoaker strapped to her thigh under her half-crinoline, whatever that is.”
Tucker joined Amanda as they moved on to make way for the other guests, numbering in the too-many-to-count range, and, yet, the overall feeling was cozy and intimate. “My eldest sister got married at St. Bartholomew’s in Manhattan, with the reception on the terrace overlooking Park Avenue. People called it the most beautiful wedding they’d ever attended, but, honestly, I think that translates to the most expensive. This wedding is the real thing.”
His head tilted as he studied her face. “You’re right. That’s very insightful of you.”
“You sound surprised. I like Mia. I haven’t had a chance to get to know Ryker, but he seems like a great guy. They look truly happy.”
“They are. Which is a really good thing because they both went through some dark shit before they got together. And, now...” He gestured expansively, drawing her attention to the nearly finished house with its bank of windows and generous deck facing the river. “They’ve got a shot at the best life has to offer.”
“Marriage?” she asked.
He snatched two champagne flutes from a passing server. “The whole package. Marriage is part of it. Working. Struggling at times. Raising kids. Taking care of each other. Growing old together. Not everybody gets that chance.” He took a sip of bubbly. “I like to think my parents would have made it if my dad had lived. I don’t know, but from everything Ona has told me about Dad and my mother, they were just as good for each other as Ryker and Mia are.”
Good for each other. Unlike her parents, who pretended to be happy but generally brought out the worst in each other. She’d thought it was the distance that gave her a new perspective on her family. But, as she looked around at the fabulous, engaged, truly happy Zabrinski family feting love with genuine delight and gratitude, Amanda knew her family could never pull off anything this real.
As she watched a photographer pose Mia bracketed by her laughing, misty-eyed parents, Amanda felt a bone-deep sorrow, recognizing this as a moment she would never know. If she married someone her parents handpicked, they would pony up whatever it cost to impress the people of their choice. Her father would pose for the camera with his practiced, trust-me-I’m-successful smile. Her mother would flitter to a stop only after making sure everyone knew how much this affair had cost.
“Maybe it’s all the time I’ve spent with Molly, but I’ve decided my mother is the richest poor person I’ve ever met. Despite recent bouts of anger, Molly knows how to laugh. She’s lived exactly the way she wanted. What I’d call a pretty straightforward Montana life, with all her values intact.”
“Your mom...not so much, I’m guessing?”
“Mother is never satisfied. She’s constantly on a quest for the thing that will make her happy. Or distracted. Or richer. Mom loves money and she loves winning. And nobody can hold a grudge longer than June Heller.”
As they watched the beautiful, happy festivities, Tucker took her hand and squeezed it. He didn’t say anything. What could he possibly say, “I’m sorry you had such a tragic, miserable life”? Of course, not. She was a child of privilege and she knew it. Was there anything more pathetic than a poor-little-rich-girl’s lament?
But there was something she could say. She squeezed his hand and motioned him closer so she could whisper. “I’m sorry your mother and father didn’t get their happily-ever-after. Your life would have been quite different, wouldn’t it?”
His broad muscular shoulders lifted and fell. Her knees had gone weak when he stepped out of his room in a tailored white shirt and silver tie. She’d noticed that the fit of his charcoal slacks turned heads. She’d even noticed a woman ask her female friend, “Who’s that?”
That is the man who hides his beauty beneath baggy board shorts and ratty T-shirts. “And he’s all mine,” she was tempted to say to the stranger. Not that she would. Or could, for that matter. They were enjoying each other’s company. No complications. No strings.
She took a drink of champagne but found it bitter. Or was the sour taste a reminder that no complication, no strings also meant no “whole package,” as Tucker put it.
“I think I’ll stick to water,” she said, handing Tucker her glass.
He set both of their flutes on a tall table. “Me, too...until after the show, anyway. Nothing worse than a drunk director.”
His mischievous grin was all boy, so it came as no surprise when a familiar-looking ten-year-old appeared in front of them. “Hello, Tucker.”
“Hello, Brady.”
The child looked at Amanda. “Hello, lady whose name I don’t remember.”
“Amanda,” Tucker supplied. He brought her knuckles to his lips. “She’s my lady. Tonight,” he added under his breath, with a wink.
Why did that addendum leave her a little let down, she wondered?
“Does she have a water gun?”
“Yes,” Tuckered answered, his tone grave. “I loaded it myself.”
Brady appeared impressed. “Okay. Mom says we’re meeting at the small tent by the river after dinner but before cake.”
Tucker, still holding her hand, cocked his wrist and pretended to fiddle with an imaginary watch. “Set. I’ll meet you there. Tell the others.”
Brady scuttled off like a spy on a mission.
“You’re good with kids.”
He rubbed his chin across her knuckles. “Some say that’s because I am a kid who’s never grown up.”
“Like Peter Pan?”
“Meh.
Why pigeonhole people? I prefer to think my youthful exuberance is a way of channeling the Full Mountie.” He gave her a lecherous leer. “Which can be a good thing. A very good thing. Right?”
Her brain flashed to their lovemaking the night before. Her mouth went dry while other parts went moist and heated. He’d demonstrated a move he planned to incorporate in a new dance. She couldn’t wait for a repeat performance. “A very good thing.”
His grin told her he sensed her breathlessness and desire. But before he could say anything to out her, a voice came over a PA system. Mia’s Matron of Honor, her sister, Meg, stood at a microphone set up for the band at the rear of a newly built dance floor situated near the river.
While guests were greeting and toasting the bride and groom, some clever elves had brought in large trestle tables. All the chairs were now tucked up to family-style settings atop red, white and blue linen tablecloths. Centerpieces featured miniature rockets, flowers and flag motif pinwheels. Jelly glasses held cutlery wrapped in red and blue bandanas.
“Wow,” Amanda whispered. “What a transformation!”
“Can everyone hear me?” Meg called.
She adjusted the mike for a few people in the far back then said, “Happy July Fourth Wedding Day.”
The audience clapped and hooted and stomped the ground. Amanda felt the sensation travel from her new sandals all the way up her legs. Impulsively, she slipped one arm through Tucker’s, glad to have him by her side.
Meg’s welcome fit the newly married couple’s style: short and inclusive. She gave everybody a hint of what was to come. “As you’ve probably noticed, we’re sitting family-style. Giant platters of food will be passed down from both ends. Nobody’s going hungry today. So, everyone, please, sit anywhere, but Mia and Ryker have one request.” She paused to make sure she had everyone’s attention. “They want you to greet and meet the other people at your table. More than just ‘Hello, I’m Meg.’ They’d like you to share something meaningful about your life. How did you meet the love of your life? Who is the one person who influenced you most in your youth and why?”
Montana Rogue (Big Sky Mavericks Book 7) Page 11
