The rustle of fabric told Jenna everyone was moving, and she glanced behind her to see the other two bridesmaids had shifted toward the center, facing the bride and groom now instead of the minister. Right…
Jenna mimicked the action, holding the gaudy flounce of bows up a bit higher than necessary to attempt to cover her splotchy chest.
And the damn man still stared at her. Now he seemed to be laughing inside. His eyes were lit with mirth, and his smile broadened.
Jenna was completely, irrevocably flustered, and the bastard knew it. In fact, he relished it. Damn him. He stood there completely at ease, his form perfectly in line with the other groomsmen.
She knew he enjoyed her squirming mess of nerves far too much to pay any more attention to the mock service than she was, but he managed to keep himself from appearing to be a total idiot.
Damn him again. They’d never met, and already she wanted to slap him and run from the room for being so…fucking sexy and distracting. Didn’t matter a bit it wasn’t his fault she reacted to him so strongly. She still wanted to punch him.
Since he’d chosen to stare her down, she decided to return the favor and give back as good as she was receiving. Why should she be the only one feeling flustered from the weirdest standoff in history?
Jenna caught his eye and matched his gaze. She tried to stand still and keep from fidgeting. Relax your shoulders. She knew they were hunched, in part to hold on to the bouquet higher. Breathe. In. Out. Slow the fuck down. Her blood pressure had to be the highest ever, and her heart beat at a pace that couldn’t be safe.
All Jenna managed to do was drop the fake bouquet, which tumbled down the three steps and landed at the beginning of the aisle. “Shit,” she muttered before she could filter herself and keep the expletive from escaping. She whipped her gaze up and decided no one heard her before she quickly crept down the steps and grabbed the wad of ribbon.
When she resumed her spot, she found Mason biting his lip, his eyebrows raised in question.
Glad I can be of such comedic relief for someone. She blew out a deep breath and turned toward the minister, intent on paying attention for the rest of the rehearsal.
What had to have been less than twenty minutes seemed to go on for hours before the bride and groom finally took each other’s hands and headed down the aisle.
Jenna almost fell down the three steps when it dawned on her she would need to take Mason’s arm now and follow the happy couple.
“You okay?” he muttered toward her as she grabbed his arm tighter than necessary. He grinned and then chuckled.
“Fine.” Her voice squeaked. That one word sounded too high-pitched and sharp. She swallowed and tried again. “You must be Mason.”
“Indeed. Last time I checked my driver’s license. And you must be Jenna.” He said her name as though he were making love to her as they walked. It rolled off his tongue sensually with more syllables than the two it warranted. Or maybe she dreamed that part.
Jenna gripped his arm tighter, completely aware she was hanging on to his bare warm skin and not layers of dress clothes. She didn’t doubt she would leave marks from her fingernails, and she didn’t care. It was his fault for making her all flustered. He deserved to be marked.
She was impressed he knew who she was. Men weren’t known for sharing all the details of which bridesmaid they would be paired up with. Then again, Rafe wasn’t like most men. She could imagine him making sure his friends were all armed with the details. He seemed…obsessive-compulsive.
Jenna had only met Rafe a handful of times. She didn’t know him well, but she did find him to be a combination of high-handed and doting. She’d never been able to put her finger on it, but something about him was different. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. On the contrary, she thought he was a marvelous choice for Katy. He clearly adored her and thought she hung the moon. But at the same time, he seemed to have changed Katy in some way. The woman catered to him more than Jenna ever pictured her friend doing with any man.
Mason jerked her from her thoughts as they exited the sanctuary. “You can let go now…if you want.”
Jenna yanked her hand free of his bicep. “Sorry.” She took several paces to one side to separate herself from the aura that surrounded the huge man and then turned and fled the room without glancing back.
She beelined for the restroom, ducked into a stall, and locked the door. Holy shit. Her breathing came out in heavy gasps as though she’d been running instead of standing still for half an hour at the altar. Sweat beaded on her temple, and her knees threatened to buckle. Maybe she had a fever.
Or maybe you got bowled over by a ten-ton hunk of testosterone that took over your brain cells and turned you into a pile of Jell-O.
Either way, she needed to pull herself together before she embarrassed herself any more or ruined Katy’s weekend. This isn’t about you. It’s about your friend. Get your head in the game.
But the only thing occupying her mind was the feel of Mason’s warm, smooth, hard skin. The man didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. His muscles flexed with each sway of his arm as he’d walked her down the aisle. She could smell his scent lingering on her skin, and she pressed her palm against her nose and closed her eyes to inhale him again. Whatever combination of soap and aftershave and…Mason…he wore, she liked. In fact, she moaned as she realized she was squeezing her legs together against the tight ball of need that had taken up residence inside her.
She’d never reacted like this to any man. Ever. And it unnerved her to think all her blood had congregated in her pussy, making her stupid. No wonder her brain cells wouldn’t organize and cooperate. The man had a spell on her.
Jenna Mathews did not do spells of any kind. She was an organized, deliberate woman with goals and plans that didn’t include falling on her face over a guy. Yep, keep repeating that mantra.
What the hell was wrong with her today? Maybe she didn’t eat enough before the rehearsal. Yeah, that’s it. Keep telling yourself that also. A snack will erase all your hormones.
Jenna set her forehead on the cool metal door to the stall. It soothed her heated skin and helped her find her wits. Half of them at least.
“Jenna?” Katy’s sweet, gentle voice rang in the small restroom. “You okay? Mason said you were in here.”
Shit. Jenna hadn’t heard her friend enter. “I’m in here.” She tried to sound normal. Just a gal using the toilet.
“You feeling okay? You’re acting kinda strange.”
“I do feel a bit warm, actually. I’m sure it’s nothing. Give me a second. I’ll be right out.”
“Okay. I hope you aren’t coming down with something.” Katy’s worry was palpable in the enclosed space. Jenna pictured her friend biting her lip and knew her mind would be scrambling to figure out how the next twenty-four hours would play out if her maid of honor were sick.
“No worries. I feel better already. I think I got dehydrated maybe. I didn’t drink enough water today.” Jenna bit her own lip at the lie and cringed. Or I sweated off everything I drank for a week when your fiancé’s friend entered the room and sucked up all the oxygen.
“All right. Well, we’re all heading to the restaurant now. Everyone’s in their cars. Mason is going to wait for you and bring you over, okay?”
What? Shit. Shit. Shit. It wasn’t as though she could say no. Katy was freaked out enough, what with Jenna paying no attention to the rehearsal, dropping the bouquet, and fleeing the lobby as though she had ants in her pants. She gulped past the lump in her throat and squeaked out a reply. “Got it. Okay. Tell him I’ll be right out.”
“You sure you’re okay? You sound…off.”
“Yep. I feel better already.”
She could kick herself for not driving to the church in the first place. Why had she let Katy and Rafe pick her up? That idea now sucked big time. The last thing she needed was a long drive across town alone in a confined space with a man who left her no air and made her panties wet.
»»•««
Mason leaned against the wall outside the women’s room as casually as he could manage. His body wasn’t listening to the commands from his brain, but he hoped everyone else was oblivious to his plight. Especially the woman who had yet to emerge from the restroom.
Jenna Mathews. Holy fuck. Rafe had told him about Jenna. Of course he had. Rafe wasn’t a man to leave out any sort of details about anything. He’d rambled about Jenna’s tiny frame, her long straight dark hair, her smooth white skin. They were simply details about a random chick.
Not anymore. That woman punched him in the gut as soon as he sidled up next to Rafe at the front of the church and lifted his gaze. Whatever she lacked in grace, she made up for in body. At least as far as Mason was concerned.
And God, how he loved the way he rattled her. He grinned to himself alone in the hallway. She’d been interested all right. More than interested. She’d soaked in every inch of his body with her gaze. The blush she wore when she caught his eye was so alluring his cock hardened right in front of the minister.
This was so unlike him. Mason never let a woman get under his skin. But something about Jenna undid him. He still sported a hard-on from hell that wouldn’t go down.
And what was the woman doing in the restroom, anyway? Everyone was gone. Mason had been assigned the job of getting the maid of honor to the rehearsal dinner. He wasn’t sure if he was a lucky bastard or if he would regret this task in a few hours.
Jenna was a looker all right. That wasn’t the issue at all. He wanted her like he’d never craved any woman before from across a room. But she was off limits. Rafe had given him the evil eye when his sweet bride made the suggestion of leaving Mason behind to wait for Jenna, and then Katy had been swept out the door by her family.
“Don’t even think about it,” Rafe had growled. “She’s Katy’s best friend, and I have to live with her for the rest of my life. I can’t have my best friend fucking her in the car and then leaving the pieces for me to clean up.”
Mason had chuckled as he’d leaned casually against the wall where he’d been commanded to wait for Jenna by the innocent Katy. “You know me better than that. I rarely fuck a woman in the back of my car.”
Rafe inched toward him and glared at him hard. “I do know you. And I saw the look on your face when you first laid eyes on her. You had her so flustered, she couldn’t hold on to that ridiculous bow thing.”
Mason grinned. “I can’t help the effect I have on women.”
“Yeah, but you can help your reaction to it. Please, just get her to the dinner and keep your hands to yourself. She’s way too innocent for the likes of you, and I want her delivered in the same shape she arrived here in. Got it?”
“I’m so insulted.” Mason gave a fake gasp. Rafe knew him well enough that the warning was warranted. He sobered. “My dick stays in my pants. Got it.” He nodded.
It was only a half-hour drive to the restaurant, but it was going to seem like hours.
The restroom door finally opened, and Mason stood upright, smoothing his shirt down. What’s the matter with you? You act like a teenage boy on a blind date. Get a grip. “Ready?” His voice sounded crackly. Good grief.
“Yep. Sorry, I…” She didn’t finish the sentence.
He figured he could finish it for her. “I was just trying to pull myself together after you tipped my world upside down when you entered the church.”
For heaven’s sake, Mason. Cocky much?
“No problem. Katy asked me to wait for you and give you a ride.”
“Yeah, she told me.” She finally lifted her gaze to his, nibbling her lower lip on one side and wringing her hands together in front of her.
God almighty she was sexy. He loved how innocent and timid she appeared, and he loved how he affected her even more. She was turned on by him, and he liked it. The way she stood there, with her hands together at her belly button, pushed her breasts high on her chest. She still had the alluring blush he wanted to lick with his tongue. It spread down her face and across her chest. He wondered if it would feel hot to the touch, and he had to force himself to ball his hands into fists to keep from stroking her skin.
His eyes didn’t obey any commands, however. He couldn’t keep from gazing at her cleavage and wondering how low that blush reached. Would her breasts be creamy white? Or would they have the same red flush of embarrassment and arousal?
The dark maroon dress she wore fit her perfectly. It matched his shirt as though they’d known each other and planned to arrive this way. The skirt was short—not so short as to be slutty, but short enough to entice his imagination to wonder what she wore underneath.
She didn’t wear stockings, and he loved the bare expanse of creamy skin on her thighs and down her legs. That also meant her ass was bare underneath, with the exception of possibly a thong. She didn’t wear full panties. He’d watched her ass as she’d left him to head for the bathroom earlier, and there were no panty lines he could detect under her tight dress.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Let’s go then,” he muttered. He stepped to her side and lifted his arm for her to take with her dainty fingers. It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. Oh, who was he kidding? He loved the feel of her holding his bicep. He wanted to experience that again. He might not have permission to make love to her in the car, but he wouldn’t deny himself every opportunity to touch her.
At least he could get to know her. Maybe Rafe was wrong about her. Maybe she wasn’t as sweet and innocent as Rafe assumed. Sure. Right.
It was a good thing Mason led her to the car. She stood tall at his side, her head held high, although tall for her was a whopping five four at best. But she stumbled several times, and he could picture her sprawled out on her knees if she hadn’t been holding his arm.
Then again, perhaps it was his fault she was so clumsy.
Mason clicked the key fob for his Camaro and reached for the handle of the passenger side, glad he’d stopped and gotten a car wash earlier. He loved impressing women with the sleek black finish. He was proud of his car, and women always swooned when they saw it.
But not this woman. She didn’t say a word. She bent down and slipped inside as gracefully as possible in her short dress. When she was settled inside, he shut the door and rounded the rear, wishing he’d been short enough to see between her legs as she’d entered. The only glimpse he’d had was in shadows.
Dude. Hands off, remember?
Mason took a deep breath as he entered the driver’s side and started the engine. He turned toward Jenna as he pulled from the lot. “So, Jenna, what do you do when you aren’t in charge of poorly constructed ribbon bouquets?”
She smiled at him with a twinkle in her eye as though she knew a secret. “Actually, I construct them for a living. Glad to know my hard work is appreciated.”
Mason swallowed his tongue. “You what? You make floral arrangements out of bows for a day job?”
She giggled now, a sweet tinkle that made his dick harder. He fought not to adjust himself in the cramped space. Had the interior of the car gotten smaller?
“I’m a florist. So no, not just ribbons. I design arrangements though, usually with actual clipped flowers. I’ll be doing the wedding tomorrow if you want to think up something snide to say before you get there.” She winked at him, clearly proud of herself for making him squirm.
He growled. Dammit.
“What do you do when you aren’t busy gloating about your perfect body and your broad shoulders?” she added.
“Touché.” He chuckled. “That’s fair. I’m an accountant. I work for the same firm as Rafe.”
“Ah, so a numbers guy. Do you keep a spreadsheet for every woman you manage to lure with your good looks and fancy car?”
“Oh, so you did notice my chick-magnet car.” He loved this woman. She was sexy, smoldering hot, and could hold her own in a battle of words. Though those first two might have been the same thing…
“Eh, I’m not much of a car g
irl, but I can tell you love it.”
“How’s that?” He lifted a brow at her and glanced her way. She sat prim and perfect. Her knees squeezed together, and her hands were folded in her lap. She’d regained some of her composure since earlier.
“It’s in pristine condition. No trash. Freshly washed. Great sound system. You like the seventies and eighties, huh?”
Oh, the music. He reached to turn it down a bit. “Yeah, Rush is my favorite.”
“So, how does a guy who works with numbers all day get so buff?”
Mason inhaled, his chest puffing up at her comment. She hadn’t overlooked a single characteristic about him that normally left women swooning. She just chose to pretend she was unaffected. “I work out. A lot.” More than you can imagine.
When Rafe said to keep his hands to himself, Mason was pretty sure he also meant for him to keep his mouth shut about a lot of things.
“Really? Huh. Couldn’t tell.” Oh, she was all spit and vinegar.
“What about you? What do you do when you aren’t lining up roses?”
“Lining up roses?” She laughed again. “You’re so good with words.”
You have no idea. My words can make you cream your panties if I so choose.
“I read. I jog. Hang with friends. I work a lot of hours.” She looked out the window.
By her body language, he knew she was leaving out several parts of her life—intentionally. What are you hiding, Ms. Jenna the rose girl?
Whatever it was, it couldn’t be as big as his own personal secrets. He was not one who should judge.
Jenna reached for her purse on the floor and rummaged around inside until she produced a hair clip. She lifted both arms and pulled her long straight locks back, twisting the glossy strands into a knot at the back of her head.
“Don’t.” The word slipped out before he could stop it.
She froze, the clip between her teeth, and turned to look at him.
He couldn’t help it. If he was going to spend the evening with her, he wanted to at least have the pleasure of admiring her silky black hair. The librarian look wasn’t going to do it for him. “I like it down,” he muttered. “It’s beautiful.” As he pulled to a stop at a red light, he turned and reached for her wrist, tugging her hand down. “Leave it?”
The Fight Club - Boxed Set Page 21
