Last Groom Standing

by Kimberly Lang

  It wasn’t very long before his secretary was buzzing him to let him know Marnie had arrived.

  She was hesitant but poised, as Karla showed her in, but the façade cracked a bit as the heavy wooden door shut behind her. For a split second, she looked cornered.

  He motioned for her to sit in the chair facing his desk, and she nearly disappeared into the large wing chair. She struggled upright and balanced on the edge of the seat. “You wanted to see me?”

  The innocent question struck deeper than she probably intended. Because he did just want to see her.

  For some reason.

  It would be nice if I could figure out what that reason was...

  “How do you think your interview went?”

  “I think it went well. It felt good, at least. Julia said she’d let me know something by early next week.”

  “Not to ruin the surprise, but it’s a pretty safe bet that you’re going to get the job.”

  A smile spread over her face, animating her features. “Oh, good.” She paused as if she were waiting for him to say something else. “I’m very excited about this opportunity, and I’m looking forward to working with everyone.”

  He nodded, and Marnie paused again. Another second passed, then she said, “I don’t mean to sound impertinent, but I’m not sure why you wanted to see me, so...”

  “Why so formal, Marnie?”

  An eyebrow went up. “You’re behind a desk all boss-like, and it seems appropriate for an interview.”

  “The interview part is over. Like I said, I’m pretty sure Julia would have hired you on the spot if she could.” He pushed his chair back and came around to the front of the desk to lean against it. “The Foundation is a rather informal office, and the fact we—” He paused and Marnie flinched, making him rethink his word choice. “The fact we know each other already isn’t a problem.”

  Marnie’s lips turned white as she pressed them together, but she nodded.

  He laughed. “You might as well spit out whatever you’re holding back,” he goaded her.

  “Well, it is. A bit of a problem. For me, at least.”

  She seemed to be having difficulty, and though he should cut to the chase, he was rather enjoying watching her muddle through. She wasn’t as rattled as she’d been Saturday at lunch, so it wasn’t necessarily all him. “Why?”

  “We have rather intimate knowledge of each other...” She cleared her throat as her cheeks turned slightly pink. “I don’t normally have that kind of knowledge about my coworkers, much less my boss. And this situation is even worse.”

  “Because...”

  She sighed and the words followed in a rush. “Because Reese is my friend and your ex-fiancée and the last person to hold the position I’m about to take and plus we...” She stopped. “Well, you know what happened.”

  “Understandable. In fact, that’s actually why I asked to see you.”

  “Really?” He could see her looking for the catch in his words.

  “Things were left rather unsettled Saturday morning, and I thought we could smooth that out before we moved forward.”

  Marnie’s mouth twisted in annoyance. “Then why didn’t you tell me that up front instead of making me stammer through all of that?”

  He grinned at her.

  Marnie rolled her eyes in response. “Oh, grow up.”

  This was kind of fun. “So much for that ‘being polite to the boss’ thing, huh?”

  Folding her hands in her lap, Marnie spoke primly. “Permission to speak openly to my soon-to-be boss?”

  “Of course.”

  “It happened. Because of our personal relationships with Reese, it’s a bit weird and awkward, and as I said, I’d rather she not know about it.”

  “And as I said, it’s none of her business.”

  “Good.”

  “But while we’re on the subject of Reese, there is one thing I want to make clear.”

  Marnie looked slightly ill. “And that is...?”

  If nothing else, he could clear up one of her misconceptions. Out of all the things that had been said Saturday morning, there was oddly one that bothered him the most. “I want you to know that I originally agreed to stay while you finished your drink because Reese asked me to do her a favor. But everything that happened after you finished that last glass of wine had nothing to do with favors for anyone. I bought the rounds, if you remember.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for that. For clearing that up, I mean,” she qualified, “not just the drinks.” She blew out her breath. “So, with that cleared up, I think it’s probably best that we just try to forget it happened—”

  “Forget?” This was a first. He’d never had a woman ask him to forget her. But, then, Marnie wasn’t just any woman.

  “Well, at least pretend to forget,” she corrected, “so that it doesn’t get in the way of our professional relationship.”

  That made some sense, but he’d dated and planned a wedding to Reese when she’d held the job and it hadn’t been a problem professionally. And he certainly didn’t see himself marrying Marnie.

  But it seemed Marnie wasn’t quite done. “It really shouldn’t have happened at all.” She laughed, but it was forced. “I mean, really. Me and you? It beggars belief.”

  She didn’t seem to be trying to insult him, but the insult was there, nonetheless. “And why is that?”

  From the look on her face, Marnie realized she’d said too much. “Well, um... We’re very different people, with little in common, and minus large amounts of alcohol probably would not have found each other attractive.”

  “I’m not sure which one of us that insults more.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, we all know the mating call of the Southern blonde.”

  “And that would be...?”

  “‘Oh, my, God, y’all, I’m so drunk,’” she drawled before cutting her eyes at him. “I’m not blaming you or claiming you took some kind of advantage of the situation. I was fully participatory, and I think we both had a good time. But in the light of reality, it wasn’t the best decision ever made and would best be forgotten.”

  “Hmm.”

  “‘Hmm’ what?” She scooted back a bit in the chair, increasing the distance between them.

  “It’s just interesting.” A theory was coming together in his mind, but it needed testing...

  “How? Things happen when people drink that wouldn’t happen when they were sober. Thankfully, no one got hurt, so we can just stick this in the Bad Decisions file and go on with life—”

  He was discovering how much he really didn’t like being considered some kind of regret in Marnie’s “Bad Decisions” file, and he didn’t know which irked him worst: being in that file or the fact it bothered him that he was. It didn’t make a lot of sense. “So you’re going to blame it all on the booze?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s convenient.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a convenient way to dodge responsibility for your actions.”

  “I’m not dodging anything.”

  “It sure sounds like it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “This job requires you to make decisions and I don’t like employees to dodge the responsibilities and repercussions of making those decisions.”

  The sharp intake of breath told him he’d hit a nerve. Marnie’s eyes narrowed and she pushed to her feet. “As a professional, I make decisions based solely on what’s the right thing to do based on the options and facts presented, and I stand behind every one of my decisions, even if I turn out to be wrong. I may make the occasional bad decision in my personal life, but it has no bearing on my professional life, and even then, I live with the consequences of those decisions. That doesn’t mean I can’t regret them.” Shifting her weight, she crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring his posture, and met his eyes evenly. “I don’t know what you’re getting all worked up over. You don’t seem to think any of this is a problem, so what the hell does it matter to yo
u how I justify my actions to myself?”

  That was a damn fine question, and one he didn’t have a fully satisfying explanation for. He pushed to his feet, but Marnie didn’t back up this time. She merely lifted her chin so as not to break the stare.

  He shouldn’t have goaded her, and he definitely shouldn’t have put himself in this position. Her crossed arms pushed her breasts together and up, and his height gave him a clear view straight down her cleavage.

  The spark hit the tinder.

  Marnie had just explained why this was a bad idea, and honestly, he agreed with her on the basic tenets of that argument. But somehow the message was getting lost between his brain and his belly.

  It was unexplainable, uncontrollable, disconcerting...and very real.

  When Marnie’s breath hitched, he knew he wasn’t alone in the realization.

  She cleared her throat. “If we’re done here, I should probably leave now.”

  That would be wise. “Yeah, you should.”

  She nodded, but didn’t move. He could see her pulse pick up speed, fluttering the skin at the hollow of her throat. He should move, get the desk and some space between them, but his feet weren’t receiving the message. The moment stretched out endlessly.

  He didn’t know who moved first, but Marnie was in his arms, her lips on his—hot, hungry and carnal.

  Her hands gripped his hips, holding him against her, and he felt the tremor that rocked through her body. He backed up, bracing his hips against the desk and pulling Marnie into the vee of his legs.

  It wasn’t enough, so he reversed their positions, lifting her onto the desk and sliding the hem of her skirt up those sleek thighs so he could fit between. Marnie released her hold on him, bracing her arms on the desk as she leaned back to allow him access to her neck.

  Her elbow hit the desk lamp, sending it clattering across the desk to hang drunkenly by its cord off the edge. Papers slid to the floor as he pushed them aside to lay her back. Marnie grabbed his tie to pull him down on top of her.

  Bracing on one elbow, his other hand went to the buttons of her blouse, his elbow hitting the phone, knocking it off the hook, and Marnie’s fingers moved to his belt.

  It was the sound of the dial tone that cut through the fog.

  Wrong time, wrong place. Staff just outside the door.

  The rational thought was shut down when Marnie eased down his zipper and palmed him. He groaned, and what little concern he had left for civilized behavior melted away.

  Marnie’s buttons opened easily under his fingers, exposing a demure bra that belied the siren under his hands. He traced his tongue along the lace trim, hearing her gasp of pleasure and feeling the soft skin tighten. A twist of the clasp, and his mouth closed over her nipple, teasing it to a hard point as her hand came to his neck to hold him in place, tightening around the muscles until her nails bit into his skin.

  The writhing and wriggling under him was driving him insane, but he was rewarded when Marnie’s skirt finally gave way at the top of her thighs, rolling up to her hips and allowing for heated contact just where he needed it most. Marnie’s groan as she arched against him sent a primal message, and he released her long enough to slide her panties down her legs. Marnie was wet and slick, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as he traced a finger over hot, trembling flesh. She bucked as he slid a finger inside, then began to shake as his thumb circled teasingly.

  The small, rational-thinking part of his brain still working was shouting alarms, but that only fed the moment. The rashness and the risk of discovery only heightened the sensations, providing an air of danger that was exciting and fanned the fire.

  Marnie, though, was the fuel, each muffled whimper and moan that fought to escape sliced into him, each tremor vibrating from her through him.

  She arched as she climaxed, her back bowing up off the desk as one hand fought for purchase on the slick surface and the other clenched into a fist and pressed against her mouth to stifle the noise.

  He was nearly shaking with need, his fingers feeling thick and clumsy as he fought his clothes and reached for her hips. Those big blue eyes were glazed with passion but focused as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  Then he just quit thinking.

  * * *

  The angry buzz-buzz-buzz of a phone left too long off the hook finally brought Marnie back to her senses. Dylan lay atop her, shoulders heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Her breath wasn’t much steadier.

  It took a moment for everything to sink in, and when it did, she rather wished it hadn’t.

  I can’t believe I just had sex on Dylan’s desk. With Dylan. My future boss. What in the sweet hell is wrong with me? She’d never lost control of her hormones like that before. At least not while sober...

  A bump and a muffled laugh filtered in from the outer office. She cursed under her breath. “Is that door locked?”

  Dylan’s head snapped up and he cursed, as well. “No.”

  His haste to get off her bordered on unseemly, but his urgency was contagious. Dear Lord, her skirt was hiked up to her waist, panties around one ankle, bra and blouse both wide open. If someone walked in...

  Dylan was faster getting his clothes straightened, but his hair stuck up at funny angles all around his head and his skin was flushed. Dear heaven, she didn’t even want to think what her hair and makeup looked like. She adjusted her clothes, but they were wrinkled beyond belief. How on earth was she going to walk out of here looking like...looking like... Well, looking like she’d been doing exactly what she had been doing.

  “Embarrassing” wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

  She’d been able to chalk that other night up as alcohol-fueled and hormone-driven madness, but this was sober—if equally hormone-driven—madness. She couldn’t begin to explain it because it defied any logic applied to it.

  At the same time, little sparks were still dancing over her skin and her knees weren’t quite steady. Dylan certainly had layers; she’d have never dreamed he was the kind of guy to have sex on his desk with the door unlocked.

  But then, she wouldn’t have said she was that kind of girl, either. It seemed she had a layer or two she hadn’t peeled back before, as well.

  Even as she thought it, Dylan was transforming back into the Dylan-who-wouldn’t-have-sex-on-the-desk. Although his hair was still slightly mussed from where her fingers had threaded through it, the transformation was pretty much complete as he tightened the knot of his tie.

  Except he had a smudge of lipstick across his cheek.

  “Well, that was...” she trailed off, unsure of what it was.

  “That wasn’t why I asked you to come up here.”

  “I didn’t figure it was.” She dug her compact out of her purse. “It only makes things more complicated.”

  Dylan replaced the phone and lamp and bent to pick scattered papers up off the floor. “That it does.”

  The damage to her hair and makeup wasn’t as bad as expected and easily fixed, even if her clothes were beyond hope. She passed Dylan the mirror. “You have lipstick on your cheek.”

  With an exasperated sigh, Dylan took the mirror, wiped his cheek and smoothed his hair. As he handed back the mirror, he said simply, “Maybe you’re right.”

  “About what?”

  “We should just forget about what happened.”

  “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

  “I like you, Marnie, and there’s definitely chemistry there, but...” He didn’t finish.

  Honestly, he didn’t need to. And she agreed with him, for goodness’ sakes, so why was disappointment settling into her chest? “I was never very good at chemistry anyway.”

  Dylan merely nodded. Damn it, why did she feel like a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am who just needed to grab her money off the nightstand on her way out? And why did that feeling bother her so much?

  The tension was thick, and it felt so wrong on top of the lovely post-orgasm glow. She’d thought Saturday morning was the
most awkward moment of her life. This was entirely new heights, and the tension only grew as they each busied themselves with clothes-fixing and desk-straightening. She wasn’t sure how to make her exit.

  When the phone on Dylan’s desk beeped, she grabbed the distraction gratefully. “I’ll let you get back to work.” Grabbing her bag, she tried to hold it over the worst of the wrinkly parts of her blouse and skirt, and nearly tripped over her own feet in her haste to get to the door.

  She nodded briefly to Dylan’s secretary and focused on keeping her façade in place while waiting for the elevator. Thankfully, it was empty, and she leaned against the wall.

  I am seven kinds of a fool.

  She had a whole laundry list of reasons why that should not have happened.

  But it had.

  And, once again, she was regretting it for the wrong reasons.

  FIVE

  When Gina walked into the coffee shop, Marnie could see the change in her. Oh, she looked as beautiful and put-together as always, but there was definitely something different now. It was that glow she’d come to recognize—and slightly envy—in both Reese and Cassie. Gina was in love and very happy.

  She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that it was Carter putting that smile on Gina’s face, but okay.

  The smile turned slightly uncertain when Gina spotted her, and Marnie instantly felt ashamed. This was her fault, and it had gone on far too long and done far more damage than she’d ever dreamed.

  They’d taken steps this summer to repair that damage, and made a huge leap last Friday, but eight days later, Marnie was still a little nervous the damage was just too extensive.

  But she’d had a week to think things over, and she knew one thing for sure: if they were ever going to actually get past this, she was going to have to quit pretending it was something it wasn’t and take responsibility. Gina seemed willing to forgive, but it wasn’t fair to accept that forgiveness without making amends the only way she could.

  Marnie stood as Gina approached and wrapped her in a hug. At first Gina stiffened, worrying Marnie that she’d gone too far, but then she felt Gina’s arms come around her shoulders to return it.