The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2)

by Suzanne Halliday

  “In the best of terms, gentlemen, the lady is a shark. With teeth. The main ingredient in her face cream is the semen of virgin males. She eats nuts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and I’m not talking about the ones on each table. I’m pretty sure she has some sob story about her daddy not loving her that she uses to lure men in. From personal dealings with the lady,” he croaked on a fake cough, “I can assure you she’s a living definition of the word succubus.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Kyle muttered. “Come on. She’s not that bad. And she’s got more business sense than all of us nut-rollers put together.”

  Joe’s face screwed into a nasty contortion. “Julie’s afraid of her. Always has been. Luckily, balding accountants who drive sensible cars aren’t on her to-do list.”

  Her to-do list. Shit, that is funny!

  Chuck offered his two cents. “The wife thinks she shits popsicles.”

  A collective groan rose from the assembled group.

  “Which is exactly why Stan is her escort. He hates everybody, right Stan?”

  Stan snorted his agreement. “Yep. And my old lady’ll knock her fucking Kylie Jenner lips right off her damn face if she so much as burps out loud.”

  While every word spoken about Tara was valid, Kyle went poker-faced when the bitching broke out. Ryan sighed. Shit. Didn’t matter if she was a black-hearted creature with dead lovers hanging from her razor claws. The woman was Andi’s business partner and a big part of why their design company hit the success jackpot. Everyone, even the most detested individual, generally had a redeeming quality or two. In Tara’s case, she was a PR genius, and her business acumen was on point. And Kyle was the sort to put loyalty above snark any day of the week.

  Ryan would do anything for Ky. They really were as close as brothers, if not more so because they didn’t have the baggage of parental favoritism hanging over their relationship. But handling Tara one-on-one was a task he was supremely unsuited for. And Kyle knew why.

  Staying clear of the woman’s poisonous fumes was one thing. But wrapping cotton wool around the guy’s bad attitude was another—so he stepped up and gave it a shot.

  Best man. Yeah. Whoopee.

  “We only have a few minutes until the family circus descends.”

  Chairs began to shuffle as they all stood up and pulled it together. This was the only chance he’d get to bring it home for Kyle.

  “Listen, you’ve all been down this road already. Each one of you guys knows how quickly a bride melts down if the napkins don’t match the tablecloths. This is about Andi and what she wants.”

  Smacking his cousin good-naturedly on the back, Ryan moved his hand to Ky’s shoulder and held on.

  “Not only that, gentlemen, but the eyes of the golf media are also on the shindig, so let’s do my man a proper here,” he drawled satirically, “and give him a peaceful wedding. No grudge matches. No practical jokes. No ladies wrestling. Got it?”

  Chuck laughed loudest; his mouth curved in a lopsided grin. “Only time in his life that he’s guaranteed a hole in one.”

  Kyle slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned miserably while all the rest of them cracked up laughing. The suggestive hand gestures and ass-whacking pantomime thankfully ended mere seconds before Uncle Burt appeared out of nowhere to let them know everyone was beginning to gather in the restaurant.

  At the word restaurant, Ryan’s stomach growled loudly. He needed to eat something and soon before all this best man shit shot his good mood in the foot. Problem-solving and playacting were infinitely easier to deal with on a full stomach.

  “Now, don’t smile,” barked the pudgy photographer who strongly resembled the softhearted super villain from a kid’s movie he did some graphics for. Everyone else on the planet might be drawing minions, but Ryan had been an instant fan of Gru.

  He slid unnoticed to the side so he could watch the photo shoot unfolding across the room. Gathered in a close semi-circle behind a radiant Andi, the bridal party and both mothers stood arm-in-arm as the photographer snapped away.

  A double helping of P’s and Q’s along with the sense of decorum his mother’s watchful presence demanded compelled Ryan to take a long moment to observe the star of this wedding event.

  Andi looked amazing. Because she was sitting, he couldn’t make out what she was wearing beyond the dark blue color, but it didn’t matter. She could be decked out in a paper bag and still look fabulous. He supposed it was the fearsome power of the unbridled happiness he found shining in her eyes that gave her such a luminous quality.

  Knowing how much Ky wanted to start a family with his beautiful bride, he considered what a kid of theirs would look like. If the Sommerfield clan had a type, it was all over the map. Brunette, blonde, tall, short, blue eyes, brown eyes—their side of the family tree was diverse and expansive.

  Seeing Andi with her mom and cousin Julie, he found a resemblance—not a strong one, but it was there. Since they were related through Dolores Carmichael, he observed her closely and then checked out both girls. They shared a similar bone structure—it was his design sense that picked up the small detail—but more prominently, he noticed a cuteness to the slant of their noses. It’d look good mixed in with the Sommerfield traits.

  Ryan glanced at his parents and instantly broke into a smile. As usual, his mom was standing next to his dad with her arms around his waist and his slung across her shoulders. It was a familiar sight. The quirky habit spoke volumes about the long-married couple’s devotion to each other.

  They were talking to Kyle’s dad who seemed to be telling an engrossing tale, from the expressions on their faces.

  Good. They were distracted. He looked around the room. Stan, Miguel, and Chuck’s wives were gathered in a cluster fawning over Alianna while the guys set up camp at the mini-bar.

  Thankfully, dinner was immediate family only so the two dozen others in attendance for the wedding were off on their own tonight.

  No one was interested in what the lone bachelor in the group was up to, so he took two steps into a nearby shadow and turned his attention to Samantha.

  Yeah, the beautiful bride was the center of attention, but Ryan had trouble remembering Andi’s name once his hungry eyes began to feast on the woman protectively glued to her side.

  Maybe this was a dream or a scene in a movie—he wasn’t sure anymore—because, as he watched her, all the lights in the room appeared to dim as a warm glow silhouetted the golden girl he couldn’t stop thinking about. For a second, he could’ve sworn she was an angel and wouldn’t have flinched if she suddenly sported wings.

  She was wearing a dress in a shade of dusty rose that softened her luminous beauty and hardened his dick.

  But she’d laughed off his suggestion—right? A sense of wonder mixed with fierce satisfaction filled him to the point of bursting.

  Standing very still so he didn’t draw attention, he studied the dress she wore with intense scrutiny, knowing when she tried it on, Samantha was thinking of him.

  Simple but elegantly sexy, the short, sleeveless cocktail dress had a V-neck bodice that clung to her delicious curves. A layered chiffon skirt swayed with every movement as she took charge of the ladies and the photographer.

  Their exchange was animated and looked a lot like a negotiation. Ryan couldn’t hold in his low chuckle as he watched. Judging by the nodding heads and a crossed arm or two, Samantha was the clear leader of the group.

  As she shuffled the ladies into a pose for one final photograph, his eyes drifted to her incredible legs and a huge lump of red-hot desire lodged uncomfortably in his chest.

  The golden girl with the healthy golden tan from her time in paradise really did have the kind of legs that could drive a sane man to do wicked things. He imagined her getting ready for tonight. He pictured her in a pair of indecently tiny panties and a deep-plunge bra, standing with one foot on an ottoman as she smoothed body lotion up and down her legs.

  Just like that, he craved a new job description. Private lotion applier
. If the pay was good and he could negotiate certain benefits, he’d gladly sign on.

  Before he could reign in his outlandish thoughts, a flash fantasy exploded in his head—complete with full-color storyboards—featuring her drool-worthy calves resting on his shoulders as she raised her arms above her head to grip the headboard. Her tits bounced with each thrust he delivered. It was one of those lusty visuals that made it difficult for a guy to maneuver in public. Something about a ferocious erection and acting normally didn’t mesh.

  Moving in slow motion, her head turned, and Samantha’s blue-gray eyes landed on his face. Even though he was lurking in a shadow, he knew she saw him. Knew she understood exactly what sort of thoughts he entertained.

  Had she felt the sheer power of his undeniable attraction for the sweet maid of honor? Nothing would surprise him.

  The brief moment ended seconds later when the whole group started moving together. A great commotion broke loose. Hugs, kisses, cell phone pics, and cheers of well wishes for the happy couple drowned out his lascivious thoughts, but dammit if the uncompromising thud of arousal in his groin didn’t back off one bit.

  “He’s watching you, y’know.”

  It was a statement, not a question, but Sam bobbed her head quickly and pushed some hair behind one ear. The look in his eyes when she saw him skulking in a corner almost gave her a panic attack. There was no mistaking what he’d been thinking, and try as she could to be shocked or bent out of shape, the simple truth was she craved his interest. But she didn’t know why.

  Throughout the long morning shopping spree, she’d been determined not to entertain any thought of Ryan’s suggestion about what she should wear tonight.

  Sam mentally snorted her disbelief. Yeah, right. The truth was she’d been on high alert for anything in the shades of rose she described to him. Stumbling on the feminine cocktail dress, she couldn’t believe her luck. In the dressing room, her hands had shaken as she slipped the dress on and the delicate chiffon fell into place.

  It was perfect. On someone else, the dress might not have been short but her long legs made up the difference and created what even she had to admit was a sexy, feminine silhouette.

  Andi and Julie had pressured her to wear her hair in an elaborate chignon, but Sam had to draw the line some place. After all, ya never know when the need to hide behind your hair would come up.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Andi giggled and gave Sam a quick hug. “Here comes my man. Look,” she quickly declared, “I’ve only got a few seconds, but this needs to be said.”

  Oh, geez. This oughta be good. Sam waited for the lecture that never came.

  “Sami, I love Kyle so much it makes me afraid sometimes.”

  Whoa. She had not expected that. Sam ran her hand up and down Andi’s bare arm and offered a supportive smile.

  “Remember how we always said control is everything? That’s what scares me. I surrender control to Kyle – completely. And he never asked me to. When the moment comes, Sam, and you’re faced with that one guy who cuts through all the noise in your head? Don’t think. Don’t hesitate. Take the leap.”

  She glanced quickly in Ryan’s direction and felt her face heat when he caught her checking him out.

  “Fuck the past Samantha Evers. You’re a big girl now, and nothing is stopping you from having a little fun. You never know where it’ll lead, right?” Andi cheerfully said as she squeezed her hand real quick.

  “What are you two girls plotting?” Kyle snickered as he overtook them and gathered Andi into a front to back bear hug.

  Two pairs of eyes stared at her with expectant and blatantly meddling gleams. They meant well but damn them!

  Andi relaxed against Kyle and hugged his arms where they wrapped around her waist. “She’s trying to act like that expensive new dress isn’t an invitation.”

  Kyle laughed. “Well, newsflash, ladies. It’s working. Poor Ryan. His eyes are gonna start to bleed if he doesn’t blink soon.”

  “Andrea,” a voice called out. Sam shivered. It was Dolores. She’d know that frigid yelp anywhere.

  “Fuck,” Andi murmured quietly.

  They looked at each other for a minute. Sam hated the shadows in her friend’s eyes whenever her snotbag mother was on the scene. Time for her to shift gears into crisis control and shield Andi from everything and anything threatening to cast a pall over the happy occasion.

  “Mrs. C!” Sam exclaimed as the woman drew near. She hoped her smile seemed genuine. “Help me with something, would you?”

  She heard Kyle’s faint chuckle. Taking a deep breath, Sam stepped into the fray, determined to give the spotlight couple all the duck and cover she could.

  Dinner was a smashing success. Andi’s wedding planner hit a hole in one with the family event. Instead of one long table, smaller tables were clustered together in a private room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a lagoon. It was cozy and simple. Just what the bridal couple wanted.

  They weren’t a small group. With the wedding party and so much of the Sommerfield family gathered, they numbered almost twenty. Sam was relieved it hadn’t turned into a pre-wedding spectacle due in no small part to the brilliant planner. She’d cleverly arranged for the wives of the groomsmen along with Kyle’s publicist and Alianna’s assistant to join a festive luau far from this intimate gathering.

  She’d been concerned when Andi’s stepdad, Steve, hadn’t appeared, but the planner whispered an explanation. He’d be along later to meet the family, but he felt it best if he avoided being around Dolores. The planner wisely figured out that where this estranged wife was concerned, there would be no making nice.

  Probably a smart move on Steve’s part but it still sucked that he felt apart from the festivities. After all, Andi made a special point of asking him to give her away—an arrangement that infuriated Dolores.

  Playing with the bright green straw sticking out of her yummy drink, Sam’s mouth quivered from the need to smile. She could learn a thing or two from the event planner. As far as she was concerned, the woman was a genius.

  Knowing how worried Andi was that the Sommerfields and their huge, boisterous family would overpower her side of things, the planner employed the strategic genius of a battlefield commander in the seating arrangement.

  At one table, Kyle’s parents were seated with Dolores. If it had just been those three, the tension at the table would be unbearable. But the careful placement of Dolores’s niece Julie and Julie’s husband, Joe, provided the perfect moderation for the small group.

  Nearby, Ryan’s parents held court along with Tara and Stan. Another odd pairing until Sam figured out it was intentional. Ted and Hannah Sommerfield weren’t clueless. Tara was obviously the lone shark swimming in a sea of happy otters. Andi told her they’d made Stan her escort because the guy was an enormous prick. He was also happily married and an unabashed critic of star-fuckers. So three against one. What better way to keep Tara in check? Genius.

  Ali was the ringleader at the table next to where Sam sat. Kelly and Lisa were avidly egging the famous writer on to the eye-rolling amusement of Kyle’s other groomsmen, Chuck and Miguel. There had been endless laughs and excitement coming from that table.

  But the best table in the house?

  She trembled from the tingles of fiery delight dancing along her spine as she glanced around while taking timid sips of the coconut mojito their server insisted was tropically infused heaven.

  At the head of the room, their table sat next to tall palms growing from lush grassy landscaping complete with a modest water feature. Andi and Kyle sat on one side of the table, and she and Ryan sat across from them instead of one person on each side of the square. That way, nobody sat with his or her back to the beautiful tropical ambiance.

  Or so Andi insisted when she had the table settings rearranged. This way, she’d cooed, would be much cozier.

  And oh my goodness. Had it ever!

  Was it overblown to feel like she’d never had more fun at a din
ner? She didn’t think so, although, Sam did concede the amount of alcohol she’d had might be clouding her opinion somewhat.

  A playfully chiding voice in her conscience scolded party pooper.

  Snorting with laughter, Sam set the drink down and grabbed a napkin to cover her mouth. Next to her, she felt Ryan shift in his chair, his presence, so close she could taste his cologne. There was no denying that something about him drew her in and made her feel. . .like she was free falling.

  He was fun to be around and an attentive companion. Each time her glass neared empty, Ryan made sure it was filled. Eating with him at the table was like dining with a seasoned food critic. She was impressed by how easily he used words to create a verbal picture of the things he saw in his artist’s mind.

  She and Andi laughed their way through Kyle and Ryan’s endless stories about growing up together. A couple of times, she’d noticed poor Julie looking their way. When their eyes connected, Andi’s cousin hilariously mouthed ‘Help me,’ a plea that was met with a twinkle-kiss. A signature move employed countless times over the years by Julie, Andi, and Lisa too, it was their snarky hand salute that said, ‘Ha-ha, sucker!’

  But for Sam, the thing that stood out the most all evening was the unexpected weight of Ryan’s focused attention. Their chairs were pushed close. He watched her. He stood if she or Andi left the table. Waited on her. Smiled. Teased and looked at her with such smoldering awareness, she was afraid her ovaries would catch on fire.

  And through it all, he was the perfect gentleman. No line was crossed. A fact that annoyed the crap out of Sam with each coconut mojito she drained.

  The evening was slowly winding down. Dessert nearly pushed her over the edge of indulgence, but how could anyone refuse fresh coconut ice cream?

  “I’m not going to fit in my dress if I keep this up,” she heard Andi mutter.

  “Babe,” Kyle assured his petulant bride, “it’s cool with me if you show up at the altar naked.”