Wedding Bell Blues

by Meg Benjamin

  After a moment, Janie glided toward him. He was pretty certain her feet never touched the ground, but since she was made of moonlight he wasn’t surprised. She ran the tips of her fingers along the line of his jaw.

  “You look hot,” she said.

  Ah, if she only knew. “It’s the vest,” he croaked.

  The corners of her mouth quirked up slightly. “Take it off, then.”

  His fingers fumbled with the buttons until her hands slid beneath his, opening his coat and vest, then pushing them off his shoulders.

  Cool air caressed his shirt front for the first time in a couple of hours at least. But his skin still felt like it was on fire, particularly since Janie kept stroking her fingers across his chest.

  He closed his eyes and let himself feel the whisper of her touch. “God, Janie.”

  When she took her hand away, he almost groaned. He opened his eyes to see her reaching for the zipper at the back of her dress. He pushed her hands away gently. “Let me.”

  He pulled the zipper down, then let his hands glide across her silken skin, moving his thumbs up the bumps of her spine. He blinked. “You’re not wearing underwear.”

  “It’s sort of built into the dress,” Janie murmured.

  Pete began to roll the dress down, careful to treat it like the piece of magic it was. Janie stepped out and stood in front of him, her arms crossed protectively over her breasts.

  He reached for her hands and unfolded her arms slowly. He’d never get tired of looking at her breasts, he decided. Not even when they were both in their eighties. He’d still want to see them.

  His heartbeat sped up suddenly—he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

  He wouldn’t see her when they were eighty. He might not even see her tomorrow. He’d be packed and ready to go, heading for the San Antonio airport, back to Des Moines. Back home.

  This could be the last time he saw her beautiful body. The last time he held her in his arms. The last time he kissed her. The last time they made love.

  Or not.

  Somewhere in his brain his practical voice was screaming. What are you thinking of? You’re the Deputy Assistant County Attorney. You have responsibilities. You have a job. An important job that everyone depends on. You have a freakin’ condo in West Des Moines.

  My responsibilities could be taken over in a microsecond by any number of hungry assistants. The only reason people depend on me is that I’m there. My job is sucking my life away. My condo looks like Hotel Anonymous.

  If you make love to her now, the voice screamed, it will mean you love her. No backing out. No going away. It will mean Janie Dupree is The One.

  Pete felt something in the back of his mind, like an object dropping into place—a puzzle piece, a missing coin, the keystone in an arch. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he wanted.

  I do love her. And she is The One. Now and always.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Janie lay on her side, watching Pete’s sleeping face. He had a small scar over his left eyebrow and a slight indentation at the base of his chin. His beard was already growing in, a dark shadow on his cheeks.

  She kicked a couple of pillows out of the way. The bed had an elaborate lace bedspread and more pillows than a seraglio. She kept finding them tucked into inconvenient places.

  She dropped her gaze to Pete’s chest, running her hands across it lightly. Thick dark hair crinkled beneath her palms, the pinkish brown disks of his nipples showing through like pebbles. She leaned forward and touched her tongue to one tip, then laved around it.

  Pete inhaled with a quick hiss, his eyes popping open. “Not fair.”

  “Why not?” Janie slid her hands to his stomach, then down the arrow of hair that led to his groin.

  “I’m over thirty. My body doesn’t bounce back so quickly anymore.”

  Janie gave a quick glance downward. “Parts of you are bouncing back just fine. Are you saying the rest of you is too old to keep up?”

  “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” Pete sighed. He rolled quickly, pinning her beneath him. “This is self-defense, Ms. Dupree.”

  He kissed her behind her ear, then traced a line down her throat with the tip of his tongue.

  Janie caught her breath. She reached for him, but he trapped her hands above her head, holding her with one hand. “Self-defense,” he murmured, running his mouth across her collarbone and down into the space between her breasts.

  Janie’s body moved without her consciously willing it. Before she knew it, she was rubbing herself against him.

  Pete caught one nipple with his lips, pressing it hard against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Janie made a sound she’d never heard before, one she didn’t know she could make.

  Chuckling, he moved on to feathery kisses across her stomach and abdomen. Janie moved her hips again, helplessly. She was on the edge of the biggest orgasm of her life, and Pete was taking his time.

  “Pete,” she gasped, “please. God…”

  “Patience, sweetheart,” he crooned. “We’ll get there.”

  “Before I die please.”

  Pete chuckled again, the vibration rumbling through her body. And then his mouth was moving down. He dropped her hands and opened her folds with his thumbs. The heat of his breath blew across her clit, as one finger moved inside her.

  “Pete,” she panted, “I don’t think I can hold out anymore.”

  “Then don’t,” he murmured and drew her clit into his mouth.

  Janie arched off the bed. He slid another finger inside her, working them against the straining of her muscles as he sucked. The storm of heat and desire swirled around her, breaking her into shards of light as her body arched and swayed in his hands.

  After a few moments, she lay panting, aware that she’d probably screamed. With any luck everybody was still dancing somewhere in the distance.

  She brought her hands down, wrapping them around his shaft, caressing him, running her hands up and down his length.

  “Christ, Janie,” Pete groaned. “Oh Christ.”

  “Pete,” she whispered. “Now, please.”

  He fumbled quickly at the side of the bed, then froze. “Shit. goddamn.”

  Janie looked up at his face, creased with strain. “What’s the matter?”

  “No more condoms,” he groaned. “I thought I grabbed more than one.”

  He turned away from her, closing his eyes as he took a breath. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

  “It’s okay.” Janie nodded toward her clothes. “In my purse.”

  Pete blinked at her. “Your purse.”

  Janie closed her eyes, tying to form a coherent sentence. “Look in my purse. It’s over there on the floor somewhere.”

  “But…” He stared at her, his eyes like obsidian.

  Janie blew out a breath. “I bought some, okay? And I tucked them into my purse.”

  Pete’s mouth edged up. “You were thinking…”

  “What you were thinking,” Janie snapped. She’d actually put them there a couple of days ago, although she’d told herself she was being silly at the time.

  “Good girl,” Pete murmured, digging her purse out from under her dress.

  If she weren’t so turned on, Janie figured she’d probably be blushing from her toes to the top of her head. As it was her face was flaming.

  Pete climbed back on the bed again, dropping the other condoms onto the bedside stand before he sheathed himself. Then his body moved against her, pressing her back against the pillows again.

  And then he was inside her, thrusting deep, deeper than she could have thought possible. She tipped her hips, wrapping her legs around him, catching his head in her hands so that she could bring her mouth to his. Their tongues tangled, salty with her taste, mimicking their bodies, and another wave of feeling spread from her center to her fingertips, her toes, the top of her head, everything blending, exploding, finishing in a trembling blast.

  Pete pounded into her body a few more times and then cried ou
t. Janie held him as he shuddered against her, as he panted her name against her throat.

  After a long moment, he lifted himself and touched his forehead to hers lightly, holding her in a loose embrace. “Oh, Janie, holy crap.”

  Janie snuggled in next to him. “So that was okay for you?”

  “Sweetheart.” He sighed. “Trust me, we’ve already moved way beyond okay.”

  Janie closed her eyes again, relaxing. She needed to be ready. Any minute now he was going to start telling her goodbye. He’d tell her he was sorry to leave. Maybe he’d suggest they get together sometime. Maybe he’d want to e-mail her. Maybe…

  But whatever he had planned, she wouldn’t let him do it. She wasn’t another responsibility for him to take on. And besides, it would be better to end it now than to let it drag on for months, breaking her heart a little more every day whenever she thought about how much she wanted him. How much she loved him.

  Clean breaks were much better. Weren’t they?

  Pete lay in the gathering darkness, feeling Janie’s breath against his cheek. Somewhere at the back of his mind a voice whispered, What are you going to do? Unfortunately, he didn’t have any answer yet. But he knew what he wasn’t going to do. He wasn’t going to let her slip away from him.

  “Janie.” He took a deep breath, “I’ve been thinking.”

  Her head lifted fractionally from his shoulder as she squinted at him. “About what?”

  “Well, the future, sort of.” He blew out a breath. “You know, what we’re going to do and all.”

  “Oh.” She shook her head. “You mean that you have to go back home tomorrow. That’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

  A sliver of ice invaded his stomach. “Don’t worry about it?”

  “No.” She half pushed herself up so that the sheet fell back from her breasts again. “It’s okay. Really. I know this was only temporary. I know you need to go back to Iowa and your job. I know it’s important to you, that they need you. I’m okay with it. Really. Don’t worry.”

  He couldn’t see her face clearly in the dim light, so he couldn’t be entirely sure how serious she was. Her voice sounded funny, slightly choked. “What if I’m not okay with it?”

  Janie reached out to run her fingers along his cheek. “No, Pete, it’s all right. Believe me. You don’t need to take care of me—I’m a big girl. I’ll get along okay. Don’t worry about me.”

  “But…” Pete took a breath. He loved this woman. Why exactly was this going so wrong so quickly?

  “I’ve thought about it—a lot.” She might have swallowed. In the darkness it was hard to tell. “You always protect people, look after people. But you don’t need to do that with me. I’ll always remember this week, but you don’t need to take care of me now. I know your job in Des Moines is really important, and that you’re really good at it. And I know you need to go back to do it, although you do need to slow down a little bit, too, so it doesn’t make you sick. But, well, I understand you have to go. I don’t…you know…just don’t worry.”

  Pete felt as if his breath was caught in his throat. She didn’t want him. Of all the outcomes he’d thought of, this was one that hadn’t occurred to him.

  He’d have to let her go if that’s what she chose.

  But she didn’t look happy about it. In fact, he’d be willing to bet those were tears she was blinking back right now.

  Something here wasn’t computing. And his brain was too fuzzed with sex and wedding aftermath to work right. If this was Casablanca, somehow he’d ended up playing the Ingrid Bergman part rather than Bogart. And that was clearly unacceptable. Time to get things straightened out.

  “We need something to eat before we go any further with this conversation,” he sighed, sliding out of bed.

  Janie sat staring at the door that Pete had just closed, trying very hard not to cry. If he came back and found her in tears, he’d decide she needed to be looked after. And she didn’t. Honestly. She was a big girl. An apprentice bitch, even. She didn’t need a man to protect her.

  She’d done the right thing. She’d beaten him to the punch, sending him off before he could try to find a way to let her down easily. After all, they’d only known each other for a week or so. Once he got over the whole wedding euphoria, he’d realize his job meant more to him than she did.

  If he tried to keep something going long distance, it would just draw it out, make it worse. Basically, they’d both end up feeling like crap.

  Which didn’t mean that she didn’t feel like crap at this very moment.

  Janie bit her lip. Guts up, Janie. She’d always known it would come to this. This was just a fling. Her first fling. Now she had to be a grown-up and get over it. Get her own apartment. Move on with her life. Find someone else, someone who lived in the same place she did. Someone who’d be here tomorrow and the next day and the next.

  She had an obligation. She was still the good girl. She was the one who was going to make the sacrifice here, make the break. People fell in and out of love all the time, and so could she. She just needed a little time to forget him. And then she’d move on to something else, find somebody else. That was the responsible thing to do, the considerate thing to do, the best thing to do. The thing that would allow her to hold onto her dignity and her self-respect.

  Was she supposed to feel so wretched when she did it, though?

  As he slipped downstairs, Pete could still hear the orchestra playing out on the broad lawn, but it sounded very far away. Food. There had to be some food left somewhere. He knew Janie hadn’t eaten much—he’d watched her all through dinner. Maybe she was suffering from low blood sugar. Feed her a little bit, and maybe she’d snap out of it.

  Besides, they needed some champagne to lubricate this conversation. And if things didn’t get better fast, he intended to get very drunk indeed.

  He slipped out onto the patio without encountering anyone other than a curious waiter or two. He found a buffet table where he managed to fill a platter with bread and cheese and something that looked like dry salami, along with some chips and dip. He added a handful of olives for good measure.

  As he turned to head back up the patio stairs, he caught sight of his father sitting next to the door, watching him.

  “I’m glad you’re feeding her,” he said mildly. “She looked like she was ready to keel over when she gave that toast.”

  Pete stood poised next to the door, trying to think of something relevant to say that was fit for his father’s ears.

  “So how’s your evening going?” His father leaned his head back to look up at him.

  Pete sighed, setting the platter down on the nearest table. “Not exactly like I expected.”

  “So she turned you down?” His father shook his head. “Naturally. I guess that figures.”

  Pete felt a quick rush of annoyance. “Why does that figure? You think I’m not good enough for her?” He sighed. “Of course, you could be right. Maybe I’m not.”

  “You’re not only good enough for her, you’re just what she needs.” His father grinned at him. “But it seems to me the two of you are too much alike. You’re both fixers. You both want to take care of everybody around you before you get around to taking care of yourselves.”

  “So you think we won’t be good together?” Pete frowned. “Really?”

  “I think you’ll be great together. You just both have to learn to be more selfish. Convince her she’s not doing you any favors—that you don’t want her to save you. And stop trying to save her from anything yourself. That’s my advice, for what it’s worth.” His father took a swallow from his bottle of beer. “Of course, what do I know? I’m here hiding out from Docia’s mama—she keeps wanting me to dance with her. It’s a known fact Toleffsons don’t dance.”

  Pete stood staring at him. Several points suddenly became crystal clear. “Thanks, Pop.”

  “You need anything else?”

  Pete paused a moment, thinking. “I didn’t find any champagne. Is it gon
e?”

  “Pretty much.” His father shrugged. “On the other hand…” He leaned behind the table, pulling out a damp bottle. “I just noticed some left in this cooler.” He handed the bottle to Pete. “That do it?”

  Pete nodded. “Yes, sir. Thanks again.”

  “Any time. Any time at all.” His father peered back down the stairs toward the spreading lawn. “You think Reba’s hooked back up with Billy by now?”

  “Probably.” Pete gathered up his platter and his bottle and headed back up the stairs, tucking a couple of glasses into his pockets.

  At least Janie hadn’t moved from the bed when he stepped back into the room, which he considered an encouraging sign. He sighed. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” She pulled up to a sitting position, letting the sheet drop to her waist again, which started an ache somewhere south of his heart. “Is that for me?”

  “Yep.” He placed the platter on the bed next to her. “You didn’t have dinner.”

  “No, I wasn’t hungry then. Now I am.” She piled several pieces of cheese on a slice of bread and dug in.

  Pete opened the champagne and poured. “I figured we needed something. Here, have one.”

  Janie took the glass, staring at him over the rim. “More champagne—I’m not sure I can drink any more. You’re not expecting another toast, are you? What’s the occasion?”

  “The occasion is we need to dump the bullshit.” He cleared his throat. “This time around we talk about what we really want, not what we think we should want or what we think is good for each other. We’ve both got a bad habit of trying to take care of everybody else’s problems. It’s making us stupid.”

  She blinked at him, her mouth narrowing. “What do you mean?”

  “Look, Janie, I can’t take care of the world or even the people in the immediate vicinity—and you can’t either. So no nobility, okay? No selflessness. No putting my needs ahead of yours because that’s what you’re supposed to do. None of that. Am I clear?”