by Debra Druzy
“Okay, now drop your hand.” Snap.
“Turn toward me.” Snap.
“Raise your chin.” Snap. “Next couple please.”
“Hold it a sec.” Misty set down her glass to tuck in the bride’s bra strap and wipe lipstick from her teeth with a tissue. She tweaked the groom’s bow tie and straightened his boutonnière. Despite a few drinks in her blood, she was a meticulous professional. “That’s better. Carry on.”
“You’d make a great photo assistant,” Adam said more than once.
Each time, Misty smiled bright.
When the couples sat down for the main course, it was the vendors’ turn to take headshots against an ivory wall in the anteroom. Once again Misty fine-tuned everyone’s appearance, but when it came to her individual photo she was nowhere in sight.
“I had to fix my makeup,” she claimed, glassy-eyed, with red glossy lips.
“No problem. We’ll take yours at the end. Let’s go—it’s cake cutting time.”
Posing would’ve gone smoother if the participants weren’t blitzed out of their minds after sucking down hours’ worth of free booze. Miraculously no one fell into the seven-tier monstrosity.
After the last dance, he was done and could finally get some alone time with Misty.
She collapsed in a chair beside him while he packed his equipment.
“I didn’t eat anything tonight.” His gut growled as a painful reminder. “Did you?”
“I didn’t get a chance.” Stretching her arms languidly behind her head, she rubbed the back of her neck.
“Not even a bite of cake?”
“Nope. The food looked good though.”
No, you look good—better than good. He was tired but still had enough wits to refrain from saying the thoughts fueled by his sex-infused fantasy. “You did all that drinking on an empty stomach?”
“I had a few candy hearts.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“I didn’t mean to hijack your night.”
“Adam…” Misty’s voice deepened to a husky whisper, an effect of too much champagne, no doubt. Still, the vibration traveled straight to his trousers, inspiring him to taste those bow-shaped lips and more, if not for the staff clearing away the dirty dishes. “You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”
“I—uhh…” On the brink of making a daring wrong move, he stepped back, controlling his raging pulse with a deep breath. “I appreciate your help.” He enjoyed the pleasure of her company even more but kept that info to himself. “My assistant couldn’t make it tonight. Are you sure you don’t want to switch from selling gowns to taking photos?” he joked, half-serious.
“Are you kidding?” She hid a yawn in her hands. “Photos are more work. You have to stay for the whole party. My job ends once the bride picks up her dress. I’m only here to represent the boutique. Otherwise I’d be home—in bed.”
Home in bed alone, Adam hoped but doubted it.
“Remember the fourth grade Favorite Person Valentine’s Day Square Dance?” Adam rustled up the nearly lost memory.
“God, how could I forget? My dad wore one of the ponchos Mom crocheted thinking he looked like Clint Eastwood in A Fistful of Dollars. What an embarrassing night—thanks for reminding me.”
“I thought it was fun.”
“Do-si-do’ing and all that nonsense—you have a warped idea of fun.”
Adam shrugged. “Well, it was fun for me—getting a turn to be your partner, swinging you around the dancefloor arm in arm—we laughed so hard. I dunno, maybe I’m recalling it wrong.”
“No.” Misty bowed her head. “You got it right. I thought the best part was getting a chance to dance with you, too. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember.”
“I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”
Sweet little Misty Morningside turned out to be a sexy, sophisticated, successful woman. Any man with a fraction of a brain would’ve snatched her up by now. Imagining her with another man had his curiosity cooking. “So, what?—no big Valentine’s Day plans?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
She jutted her bottom lip and lifted a careless shoulder. “I just don’t.”
Good to know. Adam kept his sly smile to himself. “Wanna grab dinner then?”
“Where? Like, the diner?”
“Nah.” He waved away her suggestion. “We’re already here. Let’s try the lounge.” The alternative would be room service in his suite but that might be pushing things too far too soon.
“Well…” Misty stood and smoothed the hem of her dress, clutching the thin purse like a life preserver.
By the earnest glow in her heavenly blue eyes, she seemed to consider his offer, wavering on the edge of staying, however he didn’t want his zealousness to send her hurling toward the exit.
“No pressure.” Adam kept his smile neutral and his mind on the task of folding the tripod. “Just old friends catching up.”
“Ohhh…sure, friends, I know.” She hesitated and he sensed her nervousness. “Yes, of course.”
“Great!” Adam piped up like an over-eager pre-teen, but maybe she didn’t notice the magnitude of his enthusiasm because she didn’t run for the parking lot. He pulled his wallet from his back pants pocket. “Take this. I’ll meet’cha in a few minutes. I just wanna lock up my equipment.”
“I don’t need your credit card.” Misty chuckled.
“Take it. Order a few appetizers to hold you over ’til I get there.”
“No, really. It’s okay.” She held it out, expecting him to take it.
But Adam hustled toward the door, headed for the hotel lobby with Misty barely able to keep up in those stilts. “I’ve got cash,” she called, gasping.
Over his shoulder, without breaking his stride, he warned, “Don’t you dare!”
Chapter Three
“Adam, wait!” Misty chased him on wobbly legs but couldn’t catch up. Damn, the man moved fast. Even maneuvering the hefty luggage-sized camera case on wheels like a dead limb. He was as quick now as he’d been on the playground; trying to catch the lightning boy during freeze tag was impossible.
When she reached the lobby, he was already gone.
“Damn, damn, dammity-damn,” she gasped, clenching her fists, wishing she’d never agreed to dinner, especially after noticing the glittery band of scrolled gold on his left ring finger. Her stomach churned just as it had at Britney Tanner’s Sweet Sixteen party, seeing the birthday girl hand-in-hand with Adam. Although their relationship only lasted a few hours, it felt like eternity to Misty.
The smart thing would have been to keep walking once the wedding ring caught her attention, but Adam turned her willpower to mush.
She couldn’t blame it all on him. Even without his influence, she’d selfishly stuck around, craving his company once she realized they were in the same space, breathing the same air, as if he were some kind of rock star. What’s worse was, despite her better judgment, she enjoyed every minute of it.
The more she thought about her illicit desires for the taken man, the worse she felt. Misty knew how much cheating hurts.
The reality of a possible romantic reunion was now a watered-down friendly formality. For herself. For Adam. For his wife. Popping into the diner for a burger and onion rings was one thing. But anything to do with the swanky lounge at the Scenic View Inn screamed ambiance, alcohol, and adultery.
“Be polite. Be professional. Return his credit card. Then go home. End of story.” She repeated the words under her breath like a mantra. “Business. Not pleasure.”
With the rustic hotel’s everyday nautical decor replaced by romantic renditions of red heart art, there was no escaping the love in the air tonight other than to leave the building.
Still, she followed the slick tile floor until it turned to sensible Berber. Thank God for the thin padding, the balls of her feet felt like she’d walked through blazes. These new sexy shoes were good for noth
ing other than sitting and looking pretty. Or laying on her back, but she quickly whipped that wild idea back into its cage.
“Now’s not the time. Here’s not the place. And he’s definitely not the man,” she mumbled, referring to her own situation rather than the couple leaning against the frosted glass doors under The Lookout Lounge’s neon sign, sucking-face and blocking traffic. “Oops, sorry, not talking about you.” She politely pushed past without interrupting their lip-lock.
It wasn’t that Misty was against romance—hell, it was a major part of her job. Since the recent reorganization of her life that bumped her career to the highest priority, everyone and everything came last, including her starving libido. It was a good thing Adam was married because there was no room in her life for a relationship.
However, a one-night stand was something she might’ve considered…
Damn, damn, dammity-damn, why’d he have to be married?
A seat at the bar would have been perfect but, like Adam, they were taken. “That’s it—keep reminding yourself, he’s taken and you’re preoccupied. That’s a perfect asexual friendship.”
She snatched the last empty booth with her back to the wall and kept an eye out for him.
With the other bleary eye, she peeked in her compact. “Business,” she confirmed, glaring at her reflection. “Not pleasure. Not pleasure. Definitely not pleasure.” She whispered the mantra as she swiped the gloss-wand over dry lips before snapping the tiny mirror shut. To ensure she didn’t break her promise, she pulled out a few Misty Bridal Boutique business cards to exchange. “All business.”
The waitress brought a small wooden bowl filled with more of those candy hearts, along with a menu and a complimentary glass of champagne.
Perfect timing. The floaty effects of her buzz faded fast and the hunger pangs came in full force like a hot knife in the gut. Misty picked a random candy and read its two-cents’ worth of wisdom, BE GOOD, before snorting at the advice and popping it in her mouth.
Anxiously waiting, she tapped her business cards on the table then fanned them in her hand. What a lonesome loser she must look like, sitting solo of all nights of the year when everyone was with someone.
She pulled out the cell phone for company.
Ugh—more texts from paranoid brides. Why did everyone act as though the sky was falling whenever the weatherman predicted a bit of snow? Disgusted, she slipped the device back in her clutch.
To appease her growling belly she gobbled heart after heart as if it were her last supper. Up next were BE MINE, HUG ME, and LOVERBOY. Oh, yes, she wanted to make Loverboy hers and do a whole helluva lot more than hug him, but things were complicated. And foolishly, she was a glutton for punishment, lapping up Adam’s displaced attention like a hungry kitten.
The last time she was this pathetic was after her break-up, and she didn’t want to go there again…
Poor Mrs. Wright—Misty envisioned his wife home alone while Adam entertained another woman on the night of the year dedicated for romance.
“This is wrong. What the hell am I doing here?” She could get his address from the event coordinator and drop his credit card in the mail—a simple fix to this whole situation.
She slid to the edge of the bench, poised to bolt for the Exit.
Too late.
Adam appeared, covered in diamonds of dizzying light from the spinning mirror-ball over the dance floor. Although he looked exhausted, he was still the sexiest man in the world as far as Misty was concerned. A younger version of this virile man existed somewhere in those carved features and intoxicating eyes. Once wiry legs in ragged denim were now thick thighs, clad in, if she had to take an expert guess, a mohair-wool blend, she imagined straddling…
Wait! She halted her overactive imagination. I’m not straddling anyone tonight—especially a man with a wedding band.
When he spotted her, he released a lethal smile that turned her limbs to sand. “Sorry I took so long.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” She tried standing again. “I really have to go.”
“Are you sure?” He slid in the seat across from her and caught her hands.
A willing captive, she half-nodded, half-shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Can’t you stay five more minutes? Please?”
“Uhhh.” Her conscience garbled something about leave now, but Misty ignored it, too caught up in the sincerity in his eyes sucking the motivation to move right out of her, turning her into his obedient pet once more. “Oh, okay. Five minutes.”
“Thanks again for your help today…” he rambled.
Misty watched his lips move but the words melded with the background chatter. His knee jackhammered quicker than the rapid-fire of her heartbeat, brushing against hers beneath the table.
To think, a decade passed yet this man never left her thoughts—even when she was with Glen.
That’s gotta mean something.
Not as much as the ring on his finger, winking at her like a tease, testing her patience.
He’d been the one boy she’d imagined marrying someday. Not in real life, only in her dreams because she never had the courage to talk to him in high school, always crowded by his badass buddies and their rotation of sluts. Over the past few years, she’d followed the photo-journal he posted on his website. Too bad it didn’t mention he was married.
She was going to ask about the ring when the DJ cranked a techno tune that drove bodies to the dance floor.
“Food?” Adam pointed to the menu and gestured the sign for eating. “Did you order?”
“No.” She shook her head and finally handed him the credit card tucked behind her slim stack of business cards.
He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s split,” she thought he said. Then he grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward the door.
In the corridor, Misty spun, snatching her limb from his grip, torn between feeling wrong for wanting more and knowing this moment would never be enough…for her. Quitting now was the right thing to do before she did the unthinkable. “Five minutes is up.”
“Five more?” He beamed, looking like the sweet little boy she recalled sharing snacks with in kindergarten, which was the instant she knew she was in love.
“It’s late…” Even if her one-track mind wasn’t on her career, he still belonged to someone else.
“Late?” He shook the cuff of his sleeve to read his wristwatch. “It’s only eight-thirty.”
“I need to get home. And so should you. It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m sure your wife would like to spend time with you.” She cut her eyes at his ring.
“Wife?” He screwed up his perfect features, twisting those kissable lips into a mischievous smirk. “It’s not what you think.” He slid the band off one hand and slipped it on the other. “It’s just a regular ring, not a wedding ring. I only wear it when I shoot weddings to put husbands at ease while I coax their brides into giving the camera a little sugar. You’d be surprised how jealous guys get.”
Not just guys. Misty studied him through narrow eyes, weighing his story. It sounded plausible, yet still hard to believe.
“Here.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Talk to my mom. She’ll confirm. The woman wishes I’d settled down already.”
A warm wave of relief washed away the clammy sensation of guilt. Before he could dial, Misty pushed his hand away. “I am not asking your mother.”
“So, you believe me?”
Although he was single, she still wasn’t in the position to socialize, at least not until her parents agreed to let their only daughter take over the family business. Until then, she needed to focus all her energy on the goal.
But maybe…for tonight, now that Adam wasn’t married, she could have a momentary lapse of reason and get back on track tomorrow. It was Valentine’s Day after all. She was entitled to a little fun.
“Yes. I believe you.”
“I’m glad.” Adam squeezed her hand. “Trust is important in a relationship.”
His words
caught her off guard and she choked on her breath.
“Relax, Misty. I’m just messin’ with ya.” His grin spread like a virus until she was smiling too, laughing from relief. He draped his arm around her shoulder as they walked down the hall. “Ya know…I never did take your headshots.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She waved the idea away. “I’m sure I’m in a few group photos. That’s enough.” Being the object of his lens right now gave her butterflies, but he didn’t need to know it. Unless he could sense it. Something in those bedroom eyes had Misty believing he knew exactly how to make her knees weak.
“Nuh-uh. I gotta. It’s in my contract.”
“Fine, where’s the camera? We can take a quick picture in the lobby before I’m officially wilted for the night.”
“Better yet, we can do it in my room. You can freshen up if you’d like, but honestly, I think you look perfect the way you are.”
“Wait.” Misty spun and her palm landed on the hard wall of Adam’s chest where his heart beat wildly through the thin dress shirt. “You have a room? Here? Tonight?”
“Yeah. My equipment is up there.” Adam nudged her into the elevator and hit the top button to the Honeymoon Suite. “The hotel offered the room so I could take the pre-ceremony photos.” He ran the key-card through the slot then pushed the handle. “After you.”
“Ummm…” Misty she lost her edge and took a step back. “Ya know what—”
“Lemme guess…you forgot to feed the cat?”
Feeling foolish for faltering, she smoothed a nervous hand over her hairdo. “No.”
“The dog then? Or the fish? Parakeet? Hamster?” He rambled in a single breath at comical speed. “Boa constrictor? Komodo dragon? Bengal tiger? Unicorn?”
“Very funny.”
“Then it must be the boyfriend?”
“I don’t have one of those either.”
Adam leaned on the doorjamb and sighed. “So, what’s the problem, Misty? You’re alone. I’m alone. It’s Valentine’s Day. Come inside. Please.”
“It’s just…” She wrung her hands and shrugged, diverting her gaze toward the tips of his patent leather shoes. “I don’t know.”
