Three Grooms and a Wedding

by JoAnn Ross

  “I have, a long time ago. But I was working on a film and never made it to this island.” While she waited for Gage to help the driver load their luggage, Blythe secretly enjoyed the obvious compliment called to her by one of a trio of Greek sailors.

  “When I was fifteen, I went to Crete,” she said after he’d helped her up into the high seat. “We were there on location for three weeks, filming one of those summer teen movies. Sort of an updated, foreign Beach Blanket Bingo.”

  Her smile was brighter than the Mediterranean sunshine. Gage was extremely grateful to the absent Natasha for bringing them to this unabashedly romantic spot.

  “Must have been fun.”

  “It was.” Color flooded into her cheeks at the ten-year-old memory. “There was this drop-dead gorgeous waiter at the hotel. His name was Nikos. Nikos Dasskalakis.”

  When he felt a surge of something that could only be jealousy at the way her voice softened on the long-ago waiter’s name, Gage knew he was losing it.

  “Lucky Nikos.”

  She heard the edge to Gage’s tone, wondered if he could possibly be jealous, and found herself rather enjoying the idea.

  “Remembering back, I realize that I made a horrible pest of myself. I flirted with him outrageously, tried every feminine wile I could think of, but although he was funny and nice, I could tell he didn’t really consider me nearly as grown-up as I considered myself.”

  Her soft smile was directed inward. “Finally, the night before I had to return to the States, in an act of pure teenage desperation, I followed him home. I had this crazy idea that I’d hide in the shadows until he went to bed, then sneak into his house and show him exactly how mature I could be.”

  Gage linked their hands together, pleased when she didn’t pull away. “So, what happened? Did Nikos fall under your youthful, seductive spell?”

  Blythe laughed. A deep, rich, musical sound that pulled a thousand hidden chords deep inside Gage. “I discovered he didn’t live alone. The woman was about ten years older than me, and worlds sexier.

  “They hadn’t closed the shutters and as I watched her greet him with a kiss hotter than anything I’d ever seen in the movies, I realized I was definitely in over my head, so I returned to the hotel where I spent the rest of the night crying into my pillow.”

  “But you survived.”

  “Of course.” Her friendly tone hardened. “I always have.”

  Their eyes touched and Gage knew they were no longer talking about her youthful crush on that Greek waiter.

  “There’s something I need to know,” he said. “About last night.”

  Blythe stiffened involuntarily at the memory. Unwilling to look at him, she dragged her gaze away, pretending sudden interest in a clutch of elderly widows. They were uniformly swathed in black, as if in denial of the bright and cheery sunshine. One of the women was baking bread in an outdoor oven.

  She shook her head. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “I know. And I also know that it’s technically none of my business. But there’s one thing that’s been driving me crazy ever since I found you drinking your way through that champagne last night. Ever since I kissed you and you kissed me back. Kissed me as if you really meant it.”

  He cupped her face in his hand and gave her a long look. “Was it just one of those short-lived lovers’ spats? Or is it really over?”

  Cait had once told her that Gage’s confession rate had been one of the highest in the department. If this look was the one he’d used while interrogating suspects, she could understand his success. Because it was certainly working on her.

  “It’s over.”

  He read the truth in her eyes. But it wasn’t quite enough. “One more thing—”

  “Really, Gage—”

  “Humor me.” His fingers stroked her cheek. “Please?”

  Along with his interrogation success, Blythe had heard enough about Gage’s days on the L.A. police force to know that he was one of the toughest, strongest men she’d ever meet. She suspected he was not accustomed to begging anyone for anything.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Did you break it off? Or did he?”

  “I did.”

  “Because of something the guy did? Or because you decided you didn’t want to go through life as the wife of a stuffed-shirt, egotistical, social-climbing snob?”

  Deciding to get the truth out in the open, once and for all, Blythe said, “All right. I’m going to tell you what happened last night. Then I never want to hear the man’s name again.”

  “Suits me.” Personally, Gage wouldn’t mind if another earthquake hit right beneath the doctor’s house and swallowed the bastard up.

  For the next few minutes, as the cart weaved its way through the narrow, curving streets, Blythe told Gage all about her initial reasons for wanting to marry Alan, about her recent doubts, about her decision to go there last night and prove to herself that her fears were only ordinary premarital jitters, as she’d hoped.

  She also related how she’d found Alan with Brittany. And, how, when she’d tried to leave, the man she’d come so close to spending the rest of her life with, had assured her that his infidelity need not interfere with their pending marriage.

  “He even had the nerve to try to blame it on me.”

  Gage was not surprised. Although he’d known it was highly unethical, he’d investigated Sturgess after meeting Blythe and had discovered that other women routinely spent the night at the doctor’s home.

  He’d considered telling Blythe about her fiancé’s behavior innumerable times over the past months, but had decided that when she did come to him, he wanted her to come on her own volition.

  “So the guy’s a two-timing creep,” he said now with a forced shrug. “You’re lucky to have found out before you walked down that aisle again.”

  The statement struck a deep-seated chord. Their eyes met and Blythe knew that once again they were thinking the same thing. Her heart began thrumming painfully as she looked up at him, remembering how, as she’d walked down the aisle on the way to exchange wedding vows with Alan, her mind had inexplicably tangled with Gage’s, exchanging words neither of them had even known they’d been thinking.

  You can’t do this, his stormy eyes had told her.

  I have to, hers had answered back. She’d been, Blythe remembered now, inexplicably close to tears.

  You don’t have to do anything, his had countered on a flare of passion. But leave with me. Now.

  I can’t.

  You can. He’d held her desperate gaze to his with the sheer strength of his not inconsiderable will. I’ll help you.

  They hadn’t said a single word out loud. But it hadn’t been necessary. And although, up until that moment, from the day she’d hired him to unearth information about Alexandra Romanov and Patrick Reardon, their relationship had remained strictly business, Blythe had found herself unreasonably tempted.

  Before she could take Gage up on his outrageous demand, the earthquake had struck, shattering the suspended moment.

  Now, as she sat beside him in the horse-drawn carriage on this lovely, sun-drenched island, Blythe knew that whatever happened between her and Gage, she owed him the truth.

  “There’s something you need to know,” she said quietly.

  The silence swirled around them. Blythe swallowed. “I went there last night, with that bottle of champagne, to seduce Alan.”

  It was definitely not what Gage had wanted to hear. But still he waited.

  Blythe watched Gage carefully, unable to see a flicker of emotion in his expression. For not the first time, she envied him the ability to keep his thoughts to himself. Despite a lifetime of acting, it was a talent she’d never been able to perfect. Even now, she knew her emotions were undoubtedly written across her face in bold script.

  “I wanted—no, I needed—to prove something to myself.”

  She paused, waiting again for some response. And although he still didn
’t say a word, she thought she saw a hint of encouragement in his steady gaze.

  His fingers were still splayed against her cheek; Blythe placed her own hand on the side of his face, rewarded when she felt a muscle tense.

  “I needed to find out,” she admitted on a low, throaty voice, “whether I could feel for Alan what I’ve felt for you from the beginning.”

  The tension left Gage like air from a balloon.

  “Do you have any idea,” he asked, his own voice rough and husky with unmasked hunger, “how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that to me?”

  “Yes.” Her lips trembled. Moisture filled her expressive dark eyes. “Every bit as long as I’ve been afraid to say it to you. Or to myself.”

  Overwhelmed with emotion, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Gage was able to read myriad emotions—relief, desire, and concern—in those dazzling dark depths.

  “So. Where do we go from here?” she asked quietly.

  “I don’t know.”

  The obvious answer was to bed, but Gage knew she was not talking about the immediate future. He wanted, more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, to sweep her into his arms, cover her uplifted face with kisses and swear a lifetime of bliss. But the need to be honest with her kept him cautious.

  Because it had been too long since he’d kissed her, Gage lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers.

  5

  HIS KISS, gentle as it was, made her breathless. His hands, as they caressed her shoulders, warmed her all the way to the bone.

  “How about we play it by ear?” he suggested, plucking at her soft lips with his.

  “That’s probably the best thing to do,” Blythe agreed on a soft, rippling sigh as he circled her parted lips with the tip of his tongue. “For now.”

  “For now,” Gage agreed roughly.

  Neither spoke the rest of the way to the hotel. It was enough just to be in each other’s company.

  Despite being so close to the hustle and bustle of Athens, the tiny island of Aegina possessed a quiet country charm. As their carriage passed a curly-haired boy who looked as if he might ride a dolphin to school, leading a herd of goats up into the hills, Blythe felt her fatigue and tension melting away.

  The hotel was located atop a hill, looking out over the cerulean blue sea. The dazzling white walls were hung with brilliant purple and crimson bursts of bougainvillea and hibiscus. The central courtyard was dominated by a huge stone fountain.

  “This is truly delightful,” she enthused, drinking in the fragrance of the thick-vined wisteria and orange and lemon trees. “How on earth did you know about it?”

  “Since we didn’t know where Natasha would finally light, before we left, Connor gave me a list of the best hotels on each of the islands.”

  It was, Blythe knew, exactly the sort of thing Connor Mackay would do. The fact that this particular hotel was unabashedly romantic, suggested Lily’s husband-to-be had joined his wife’s and Cait’s ongoing matchmaking campaign.

  “You realize of course,” Gage said, proving once again his uncanny ability to read her mind, “that they’re all expecting us to finally make love on this trip.”

  “I know.”

  They were climbing a steep, narrow path of polished and worn limestone. Gage stopped and looked down at her. “You also realize, don’t you, that they’re not alone?”

  She looked up at him, her answer shining in her lustrous eyes. “I know.”

  He breathed out a long, relieved sigh. “Do you have any idea how much I want to book us into a room, then drag you immediately off to bed and spend the rest of the day ravishing your delectable body?”

  The idea definitely had merit. Slanting him her most provocative glance, Blythe asked, “What’s stopping you?”

  Did she have any idea what it did to a man? Gage wondered, when she looked up at him, those remarkable dark gypsy eyes overbrimming with sensual female invitation. Of course she did, he answered his own question. She was, after all, an extremely talented actress. Even so, he knew she was not feigning her desire.

  He laughed. A rough, harsh sound that was part pleasure, part pain. “How about the fact that I’ve been waiting too damn long for this not to do it right?”

  Gage drew her into a hidden alcove beneath the shade of an orange tree covered with fragrant white blossoms. “How would you like to help me live out a fantasy?”

  She twined her arms around his neck. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” she said truthfully.

  Gage decided that sweeter words had never been spoken. Unable to resist the lure of those silky, succulent lips, he kissed her again, a long, deep kiss that left them both aching.

  “I want you to get dressed up in your sexiest dress.” A thought occurred to him. “You did bring one, didn’t you?”

  Having known all along how this trip would turn out, Blythe had come prepared. That being the case, she refused to be coy. “Of course.”

  Gage liked the fact that she wasn’t the type of woman to play sexual games, wondered if she would prove this honest in bed and decided that with him, at least, she would.

  “Then I want to take you out on the town,” he said, continuing the scenario. “For a long candlelit dinner under the stars, complete with champagne and a crazy Gypsy violinist who’ll play passionate romantic ballads while I play with your leg beneath the tablecloth.”

  She’d had much the same fantasy herself. Today, in fact, while she’d pretended to be sleeping on the plane. “It sounds like a wonderful evening.”

  “Believe me, sweetheart, I’m just getting started.” He ran his hand down her hair and imagined, not for the first time, what those silky dark strands would feel like splayed across his chest. “After dinner, I want to take you dancing. I want to hold you in my arms and whisper mad, passionate promises into your ear.”

  She let out a long breath. “Oh, I like that part.”

  He lowered his head until his lips were a mere whisper from hers. “I rather thought you might.”

  Feeling freer than she had in weeks, in months, she tilted her head back and laughed. “And then what?”

  He framed her smiling face between his palms, smoothing his thumbs up over her cheekbones to her temples. “How about a long, moonlit walk along the beach?”

  His tender touch caused her blood to hum. “Better and better,” Blythe said a little breathlessly. “What next?”

  He envisioned taking her back to her room, where he’d slowly take that sexy dress off her, kissing every inch of warm, fragrant flesh.

  He would touch her everywhere. Taste her. All over. As she would touch him. Taste him.

  Then finally, after they’d driven one another absolutely crazy, he’d bury himself in her soft, welcoming body and make love to her all night long.

  And then he’d start all over again.

  His burning gaze moved over her with exquisite slowness, leaving sparks wherever it touched. His hands moved down her neck, across her shoulders, down her arms.

  Linking their fingers together, he drew her closer, until her breasts were touching the rigid muscle of his chest and her firm thighs melded against his.

  “How about we just let nature take its course?” he suggested.

  His gaze, his heated words, his tantalizing touch, all conspired to make her almost forget exactly why they’d come to Greece in the first place.

  “What about Natasha?” she felt obliged to ask, in a weak voice ragged with her own need.

  “From what I’ve heard, she’s got her own man.” She was so beautiful, Gage thought. And so sweet. And now, amazingly, with Sturgess out of the picture, Blythe was all his. And whatever happened with this investigation, he had no intention of letting her get away.

  “She certainly hasn’t stayed in any one place more than a few days since she came to Greece on that cruise,” Blythe pointed out. “What if she leaves again before we get a chance to ask her about Alexandra and Patrick?”

  “Good po
int.” He reluctantly put her a little bit away. “We’ll interview her as soon as the yacht docks. Then afterward, whatever happens, whatever the lady has to say about our star-crossed lovers, I’m taking you out to dinner.”

  “Yes.”

  “And dancing.”

  She could no longer deny this man anything. “Yes.”

  “And then afterwards—”

  “Oh, yes.” Going up on her toes, Blythe pressed her smiling lips against his. The kiss was sweet and long and delicious. “Yes, yes, yes! To everything.”

  * * *

  “THE LOVEBIRDS have landed.”

  Although the lobby was deserted, the man, who’d been following Gage and Blythe since boarding the plane with them in Los Angeles, kept his voice low as he placed the overseas call to his employer. “Of course they haven’t seen me. They’re too wrapped up in each other to notice anything.

  “You know, I’m almost feeling guilty about throwing a monkey wrench into Remington’s plans. From the way the chick’s all over him, it’s obvious that he’s about to get lucky.”

  His cigarette-roughened voice let out a sound that was more bark than laugh. Deep creases appeared in his scarred face as he grinned wickedly.

  “Don’t worry.” His voice hardened at the censure coming from L.A. As did his dark eyes. “He’s bound to leave her alone sometime before tomorrow. That’s when I’ll make my move.”

  As he hung up the phone, the man, one of those lucky individuals who truly enjoyed his work, smiled with anticipation.

  * * *

  SINCE IT WAS TOO EARLY for dinner, especially in a country where the restaurants didn’t open until at least nine, after checking into the hotel—taking two adjoining rooms to alleviate temptation—Gage and Blythe decided to pass the time sight-seeing. Although it was not their first choice, by unspoken agreement, both knew that anticipation could be a potent aphrodisiac.

  Not that any was needed, Blythe thought as Gage drove their rented jeep through the narrow, winding streets to the famed temple of the Grecian nymph Aphia. Even the sight of his dark hands on the steering wheel caused her to imagine them on her body. And to ache with need.