Tucker

by Juliana Stone

  “Your friend is something else, Tuck. Glad you found her.”

  Speak of the devil.

  Tucker glanced up as Jack stopped just in front of him. His dress shirt was undone, tie long gone, and the annoying Monique was nowhere to be seen. She’d flitted around him like a goddamn fly all night, and it was obvious that Jack wasn’t the only one with aspirations. Monique Patterson had her sights set on being a Simon, and Tucker had a feeling that if his brother didn’t play it right, he just might end up saddled with a woman he didn’t love.

  “God, not you too,” Tucker muttered. “Look, we’re not involved.”

  Jack cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow arched. “Okay,” he said eventually, dragging the word out a bit.

  “We’re not,” Tucker repeated, louder than he should. Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with his family? Did they not understand the English language?

  Jack glanced across the room as Abby’s laughter drifted over to them, and Tucker followed his direction. It had been a long day for most, and with the wedding in less than ten hours, the crowd was thinning.

  “Too bad,” Jack murmured, slipping his arms into his suit jacket. “I like her.”

  “Yeah,” Tucker replied. “She’s easy to like.” He paused, eyes still on Abby. “Where’s Monique?”

  “Headache. She gets bad migraines.”

  Not surprised. The woman was strung as tight a bow and anal about everything. Being around her was exhausting, and he didn’t know how Jack put up with her.

  “She headed up to the room about twenty minutes ago.”

  Tucker watched Abby lean closer to Rick, laughter bubbling on her lips. His cousin said something—eliciting another round of giggles—and then headed for the bar, while Abby rolled her shoulders and glanced toward Tucker. She was flushed, sexy as hell, and probably well on her way to being more than a little drunk. Tucker knew that wine wasn’t her drink of choice—she was more of a Bud Light kind of girl. But in this crowd, she’d stuck to champagne and wine and she’d had more than her share of the Pinot Grigio before and after dinner.

  Abby held Tucker’s gaze for a few seconds, a soft smile on her lips, and it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. Just like that, the air was sucked from his lungs and Tucker sat straighter, nerves jumping like a junkie looking for a fix. A sudden gust of wind tugged on her hair blowing it across her face and she turned on her heel, disappearing into the night.

  Tucker was on his feet and mumbling a goodnight to his brother in exactly three seconds flat. He strode past the bar, past those gathered for last call, past his cousin Rick and a few others, never taking his eyes off the doorway that Abby had disappeared through.

  Once outside, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gloom, though there was a sliver of moonlight bathing the tables and chairs in an eerie mist. Florida in October wasn’t exactly an oven, but it was cooler than normal and his breath made puffs as he exhaled.

  Where the hell was she?

  He glanced around, a frown on his face. The smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves soothed him as he caught sight of Abby near two large palm trees, down on the beach.

  Her silhouette looked ghostly—the breeze still carried her hair, and she made no effort to tame the long strands so they drifted around her head in a slow, sensual dance. He made his way across the patio, his leather Armani’s sinking into the sand as he headed toward her. Tucker stopped a few feet from Abby and shoved his hands into his front pockets.

  “It’s so nice out here,” she said without looking back at him. “Peaceful.”

  “Are you cold?”

  “No.”

  Tucker took another step and he was beside Abby. He stared out into the darkness, watching the white frothy waves as they crested and came toward them, falling apart when they met the beach.

  “But sad somehow you know?” she continued softly. “As if there’re secrets out there that we’ll never know.”

  An ache formed in Tucker’s gut as he continued to look out over the water.

  Or maybe secrets he wasn’t ever meant to know.

  “Your family is lovely.”

  Abby turned to him and that fresh scent of hers drifted in the air. It infiltrated his body and chased away his bad thoughts.

  God, she smelled nice.

  “I don’t know if lovely is the word I’d use to describe them, but they’re mine and I can’t complain.” He paused. “They really like you.”

  “Even Cooper?” she said with a sly smile.

  Tucker laughed. “Especially, Cooper.” He leaned down, so that his mouth was next to her ear. “And Rick and Beau and hell, you managed to make an impression on Jack, and he’s been so damn preoccupied lately that that’s gotta win you some kind of prize.”

  “Prize?” Her voice was husky now. “Do I get to pick my prize?”

  For a moment there was nothing but the sound of waves buffeting the beach and the whistle of wind in the palm leaves overhead. Things faded away, the rolling waves gentled and the wind softened. It was as if the those few seconds hung in the air—frozen in time—leaving him only with water and sand and Abby.

  And a deep, dangerous undercurrent of sexual awareness that he couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard he tried.

  “In that dress, you can pretty much ask for anything.”

  She moved slightly so that she was facing him, her eyes downcast, her chest rose and fell rapidly—as if she was having trouble breathing. And dammit if Tucker didn’t have the same problem. The air was too heavy, it was filled with dark and lustful things.

  “Anything?” she repeated.

  She glanced up suddenly, and Tucker was lost in the shiny depths of her eyes. Had they always been so…so large and expressive? He might have groaned when she licked her lips.

  “Kiss me,” she said suddenly.

  Tucker gave himself a mental smackdown and cleared his throat as he desperately tried to get his shit together. He wanted to kiss her—he wanted to kiss her badly—but should they go there?

  “Abby.”

  “Now, Tucker.” Her hands reached up slowly and he felt the cool touch of her fingers along each side of his face. “I want you to kiss me now.”

  Her breath was like a whisper on his skin, and he closed his eyes as she gently tugged his face toward hers.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said hoarsely, his control thin, his arms snaking around her waist as he brought her flush to his body. God, she felt as good as she looked.

  “I didn’t ask you what you thought, Tucker.” Her hands sank into his hair and her mouth slid across his, a gentle swipe that was merely a tease. “I just want my prize.”

  There was one second when he could have pushed her away. One second when he could have saved them both from heading down a path that would change everything.

  But that second passed when she made a sexy sound in the back of her throat, and he opened his mouth over hers in a demanding, hungry kiss. He tasted wine and strawberries and Abby as his tongue delved inside her mouth seeking more.

  Her lips were soft, pliant and he eased a bit, his mouth gentle as he tugged on her bottom lip before stroking her inside, with his tongue. He was slow. Thorough. Methodic. He wanted to take his time—make it count—because there would only be one first kiss.

  He cupped the back of her head, his body hot and urgent as her tongue slid inside his mouth and when she moaned, he thought he was gonna lose it. Their kiss turned hotter. Harder.

  And Tucker couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so desperate to get close to someone. To taste someone. To be inside someone.

  He inhaled her sweet scent as he kissed his way along her jaw and when his hot, wet mouth slid under her earlobe, she sagged against him. Her hands slid across his shoulders and her hips moved provocatively, pushing into his groin.

  Tucker was hard. Good lord, he had the mother of all erections going on right now and he knew that she could feel it. He should st
op them. He really should. But then she whispered or moaned, oh God, and he lost all hope of stopping.

  There was no way. He couldn’t get enough.

  “Jesus Christ, you feel amazing,” he said roughly, his mouth seeking hers again.

  His hands slid down all that exposed skin at her back, all the way down to the slender dip at the base of her spine. His large hands slid lower and cupped her, pulling Abby even closer against him, before his fingers dipped below the material.

  Her mouth was open, her tongue bold and curious as she kissed him back, every stroke making him harder. His fingers worked their way lower and…

  Jesus. H. Christ.

  He came up for air and rested his forehead against hers. “You’re not wearing anything under this dress.”

  Abby shook her head and she might have whispered, no, or she might have made that sexy little noise again. Tucker had no clue. All he could think about was the fact that Abby Mathews wasn’t wearing underwear.

  As in, she was commando.

  His cock twitched.

  Jesus. Fuck.

  “Hey, now. What are you guys up to?” Rick Simon called out from the patio behind them.

  Tucker had his back to his cousin and he knew that the lighting was too dim for Rick to see them properly.

  He glanced down at Abby’s swollen mouth and slowly let his hands drop. He cleared his throat and ran his hands through his hair, his eyes never leaving Abby. Shit. What to say?

  “Abby,” he said roughly.

  She shook her head, took a moment and cleared her throat. “I’m just getting ready to head to the room, Rick.” Abby answered, taking a step back from Tucker. “Can you give us a minute?”

  How the hell could she sound so in control when her chest still heaved and her hair was all over the place?

  “Sure,” Rick answered. “I’ll just drink this here cocktail that you won’t be needing. Actually. I’ll just maybe take it inside.”

  Tucker ignored his cousin, flush with satisfaction because the woman in front of him looked as if she’d been thoroughly kissed.

  A few seconds passed as the two of them regarded each other in silence. Tucker had no idea what was going on inside Abby’s head, but he sure as hell was glad she couldn’t see what was going on inside his. Because it was all about naked bodies—his and Abby’s.

  “You might want to wait a bit before you head up to our room, Mr. Simon,” she said softly.

  Tucker glanced down at his straining erection, and then back up at her.

  “You might want to wear underwear tomorrow, Miss Mathews.”

  She looked surprised for about a second and then laughed, a beautiful, musical sound that made his chest tight. Had she always sounded like that? As if she had the ability to lighten everything with the sound of her laughter?

  Slowly, Abby stepped away from him, that generous mouth still curved into a smile. “You’ll just have to kiss me again to find out.”

  Should Tucker be surprised by her bold statement? By the kiss they’d just shared that had pretty much rocked more than anything in recent memory?

  Maybe he should have been. Maybe he should have been ashamed of himself for taking something that he had no right to take. Instead, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks and watched her disappear into the shadows surrounding the hotel.

  He turned back toward the ocean, but this time as he gazed over the waves and watched them crash onto the beach, he didn’t feel the melancholy or the darkness that he usually did. He felt something else. Something light and airy. Maybe even a little bit happy.

  It took him a moment, but then he realized that what he was feeling was hope.

  Chapter Ten

  The bride was beautiful and the groom handsome as the late afternoon sun touched the guests gathered for cocktails just inside the old antebellum mansion. The wedding had taken place a few hours earlier, photos had been taken, and now it was time to celebrate.

  The bridesmaids’ dresses were sheer perfection—old rose in a classic and simple strapless design that flattered the four women who wore them—and the flowers were gorgeous, white and pink peonies. The groomsmen were rakish in coattails, the guests distinguished, with a healthy balance between celebrities, politicians and people like Abby—plain old folk.

  Music played softly while waiters worked the room, laden with trays of succulent scallops, mouth-watering mushrooms or crab and avocado canapés, and jumbo shrimp cocktails. There was a slight breeze that was perfect, just enough to cool Abby’s hot skin and that was a welcome relief.

  God, it felt as if her cheeks had been burning since she’d woken up this morning to sunshine, the smell of fresh coffee and the memory of a kiss that had rocked her to the core.

  Tucker had already been up, showered and ready to head out when she’d stumbled out of bed. For a moment, the two of them had stared at each other and she knew exactly what he was thinking.

  Wasn’t hard. The slow, sensual smile that crept over his face had left her knees weak and her stomach in knots. Last night had been a game changer, but in the bright light of the morning after, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for anything to change. Or rather, Abby wasn’t so sure she would survive it.

  God, how had she gotten herself in this mess? Jesus. She knew better than to drink wine. It always loosened her tongue and opened up that box full of inhibitions she kept hidden away.

  A moment had passed. Then another.

  And then she’d mumbled something unintelligible before hightailing it to the bathroom like a scared kid.

  “Crap,” she muttered, touching her flushed face as she ducked behind a large palm tree near the large foyer. Leaning against the cool wall, she closed her eyes in an effort to calm her nerves.

  You’ll just have to kiss me again to find out.

  “I can’t believe I said that,” she groaned, biting her lip.

  “What would, that, be?”

  Her eyes shot open and her vision filled with six foot two inches of blond male beauty. Cooper Simon smiled, head cocked to the side as he loosened his tie and undid his top button.

  Sweet Jesus, the guy was easy on the eyes and did he ever know it. He’d flirted with her outrageously the night before and though Abby genuinely liked him—it was hard not too—she wasn’t in the mood to play his game right now.

  “It’s nothing,” she said straightening her dress—a dress that Betty Jo Barker had nothing to do with, so her breasts weren’t falling out the top, and the naked factor was minimal.

  The high-neck top was a deep green satin that left her arms bare, while the soft fabric that fell from an empire waist stopped just above her knee. With her dark hair, the color choice was flattering, but, more importantly, everything was covered up.

  Even more important was the fact that she was wearing underwear. Jesus, she would have pulled on a pair of granny-pants if she had any with her.

  Cooper took a sip from his tumbler, amber liquid glittering as sunlight hit the glass.

  “Nothing,” he repeated, his voice like water over silk.

  She shrugged, but didn’t respond. She was still navigating her way through the Simon family and, contrary to what Tucker had told her, she thought that his cousin Cooper was a whole lot more complicated than he’d indicated. There were layers to this guy, layers that she wasn’t sure his family knew about.

  “So what’s the story with you and Tucker anyway?” Cooper asked.

  “There is no story. We’re friends.”

  Friends who kiss.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Cooper laughed and raised his glass. “I see why he likes you.”

  A waiter passed by and Cooper grabbed a crystal flute. He handed it to Abby without asking if she wanted a drink. For a moment, there was that voice in the back of her head, the one that said, pace yourself, girl. You’re beer and wings not champagne and pastries.

  At her raised eyebrow, he grinned. “You look
like you need it.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to know what I need.”

  “I know more than you think,” he replied. “Trust me, you need a drink.”

  “What is it with you?” She grumbled and eyed Cooper closely.

  “You tell me.” Cooper leaned closer.

  Abby took a sip of champagne and rolled her shoulders slightly. She considered Cooper for a few moments, her irritation growing at about the same rate as his smile.

  “You do know that my family owns a bar in New York City, right?” she asked.

  “Yep.” His smile widened even more. “Yes indeed, I believe that came up last night when you instructed the bartender on how to make the perfect martini.”

  Her cheeks heated. God. She’d been a little full of herself.

  “Well there is a wrong way and there is the Mathews way. I’ll give you two guesses as to which one is better.”

  Cooper held his glass aloft in mock salute. “I believe you.”

  Abby took another sip from her glass, relaxing a bit. “The thing is Cooper, working in a bar, being around people all the time, it gives a girl a certain perspective.”

  “I’m all ears,” he said softly.

  “I know people. I know how to read them. I know when they’re hiding something, and I know when they’re trying to be someone that they’re not.”

  His eyes narrowed a bit, but the smile never left his face.

  “You my friend,” she said lightly, “are not what you seem.”

  “Really?”

  “Really” she repeated.

  “And what exactly am I?”

  Abby took another gulp of champagne, liking the diversion.

  “You’re a callous man-whore who only sleeps with women who are technically unavailable. Women who are married or attached.”

  “Is that what Tucker told you?”

  “He might have mentioned it. He might have warned me about you.”

  “Maybe you should listen to him.” Cooper was no longer smiling.

  “Why would I?” Abby asked. “He’s got you all wrong.”

  Cooper stared at her for so long that Abby shifted her feet, uncomfortable and wondering if she’d gone too far. After all, she’d only met Cooper the day before.