“Lovely to meet you, Darby. Come with me a moment.” Lynn slipped her arm through Darby’s and guided her over to a shaded bench seat overlooking the lake.
“I shouldn’t keep you from your guests.” Social politeness coerced her into saying this as they sat down, even though Darby burned with curiosity at meeting Reid’s last living relative. She’d managed to glean only the barest essentials from Reid in the times conversation had swung around to family. All she knew of Lynn was she was five years younger than Reid’s mum, was divorced with no kids, and had met her current husband while on a Harley motorcycle tour around the South Island.
Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t mentioned his aunt’s medical history.
Lynn raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I’m not planning to grill you about your relationship with my nephew, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Not worried about that at all,” she said with uber-cheerful emphasis.
“That’s a mother’s prerogative.” The graceful arch of Lynn’s neck turned toward the view of the lake spread in front of them. “And I’m not his mother.” Her head snapped back toward Darby. “But I love him enough to be an interfering aunt when he brings a woman to a family event for the first time ever. Which is bloody marvelous, don’t get me wrong.”
Darby’s jaw unhinged. It was like having a formal tea party with the late Princess Grace of Monaco and have her suddenly start cursing like a sailor. She completely lost her ability to form words and instead just stared at Lynn, her hands knotted into fists on her lap.
“A month ago I popped in on Reid to see if he could recommend a decent florist since I was unhappy with the original one we planned to go with”—her nose crinkled with disdain—“too much gypsophila. Anyway, Reid was sewing one of your costumes when I arrived unannounced, and he seemed unusually relaxed. We chatted about the play, and your name came up once or twice.”
Lynn shot Darby a knowing smile. “He wouldn’t’ve known how much he was giving away by the way he said your name. Reid, he lit up—damn near glowed. He was happier than I’ve seen him for years.” She sighed, her shoulders beneath the white cap sleeves of her dress sagging. “I drop in unannounced because calling first gives him time to invent plausible excuses of why he doesn’t have time to see me.”
“I’m sorry,” Darby said. “I’m sure it’s not because he doesn’t want to see you.”
Lynn’s mouth thinned for a moment. “I remind him of my sister.” The older woman’s glance dipped to the sweetheart neckline of Darby’s dress. “Something we perhaps have in common, I see.”
“Yes.” Darby fought to keep her fingers in her lap and not to trace her exposed port scar.
“Breast cancer?”
“Uh-huh. Diagnosed around four years ago.”
Lynn nodded sagely. “Been a lot longer in my case.” She chuckled, a low sound that contained a world of hurt. “And Reid still doesn’t allow himself to love me the way the little boy inside him wants to.” She reached over and placed both her hands over Darby’s. “But he might someday, now that he’s fallen in love with you.”
A crushing sensation closed Darby’s throat and she dipped her head, fighting the urge to open her mouth and dump all her problems in Lynn’s lap. It felt as if her lips were made of lead, but she managed to curve them into a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he will.”
Lynn patted her fisted hands. “I’d better get back to my guests. We’ll talk more at the reception, or if I miss you then, at brunch tomorrow. The details are on the wedding program that you both would’ve got checking into the lodge.” She laughed, suddenly sounding decades younger. “If you two lovebirds have even had time to read it.”
It took a couple of seconds for Darby’s brain to switch gears and connect the dots between the reception—which she hadn’t been planning to stay for—and brunch the next day, which would imply that Lynn thought she was staying with Reid at the lodge.
“Um,” she began, stalling for moment so she could figure out a way to be truthful but tactful.
“We’ll be at the brunch, Lynn.”
Darby, who’d been facing away from the guests milling around the lawn, sucked in a startled breath—and God help her, her pelvic floor muscles got a workout from the sound of Reid’s low, rough voice. She unclenched her butt cheeks and half turned toward him. His hand settled on her shoulder and gave a light squeeze. Maybe a warning squeeze as if he knew she was seconds away from bolting.
“Bloody marvelous.” Lynn rose gracefully to her feet and brushed past Darby to lightly kiss her nephew’s cheek. “It means the world to me that you’re both here.”
Then with a wave she walked over to join her other guests.
Reid sat beside Darby on the bench, crossing his ankles and staring out at the lake.
“How far ahead did your gate-crashing plans go? To after the ceremony?” he asked.
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
Darby shifted a minuscule amount to the left so that their thighs wouldn’t touch. Forget any remaining traces of willpower if his leg touched hers. It’d be all over, Rover, and she’d suffered enough humiliation today not to want to add to it by having Reid reject her pawing advances. “I thought I’d wing it from here. If you hand me a go to jail, do not pass go and collect two hundred dollars notice, I’ll head back to Invers and skip the reception. No harm, no foul.”
She slid a sideways glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction from the stern lines of his profile. She was also trying to gauge whether she even wanted a get out of jail free card, to continue her weird Monopoly analogy. If sitting next to him for a thirty-minute ceremony played havoc with her physical and emotional state, the forced proximity of a reception with alcohol and dancing and loosened inhibitions due to the overload of romance pheromones swirling around the room…
Darby sucked in a shuddery breath. Really. Bad. Idea.
“My aunt likes you,” he said after a moment.
“I like her, too,” she said.
“Then you should probably gate-crash a little longer.” He continued to stare straight ahead. “She’d be upset if you flaked out on the rest of the wedding and suddenly disappeared.”
The way you flaked out on me and disappeared, his tone implied.
“I’ll stay,” she said.
A prospect which now had all the appeal of every wedding reception she’d been to, stuck at a table of boorish singletons who either talked all over her or asked inappropriate questions about her sex life.
Bloody marvelous.
Chapter 17
As far as posh wedding receptions went, the Hudson-Tanner event couldn’t be beat. Incredible food, incredible music, incredible views—and Darby was relieved to report her tablemates were not at all boorish. Reid was also not boorish, and he did a stellar job of fooling everyone seated with them that he and Darby were a happy couple. A happy couple of what, he managed to avoid elaborating on, and fortunately, their dinner companions didn’t push for an explanation.
But night had fallen, the toasts were made, the cake cut and eaten, and the newlyweds were still burning up the dance floor. She hadn’t wanted drinking too much to be an excuse for lingering at the reception, so she’d stuck to fruit juice. And while Reid had been sweetly attentive, making sure she was included in conversation with the people at their table, it was time for her to slip away and begin the journey back to Invercargill.
She just didn’t want him to be in an awkward position if his aunt noticed her absence. She bided her time until the cousin of the groom seated next to Reid excused himself and headed toward the bar.
“I’m going to pull the old visit to the ladies’ room trick and head off,” she whispered to Reid out of the corner of her mouth. “Just tell your aunt in the morning that I had an animal emergency.” She slid off her chair, unable to meet his eyes. “I’ll see you around.”
And since he gave a soft grunt of what she assumed was assent, she slipped her evening purse from the table and walked in a wel
l-practiced but subtle oh boy, do I need the bathroom quickstep out of the reception room.
A few uniformed staff members bustled along the corridor leading to the lodge front desk and the single elevator to the lower level where the parking lot was located. Darby turned her frown upside down in case any of the staff decided to inquire why she wasn’t having a good time, and hit the elevator down button. A white shirtsleeve brushed past her arm, and one tanned index finger tapped the up button.
Her upside-down frown went upside down again, and she glared at the offending finger for two beats before switching her gaze to the bulk of the man who’d sneaked up beside her. “As a wedding planner, you of all people should know how the ladies’ room trick works.”
She got an implacable stare in return.
Then he said, “The woman leaves for the restroom and her partner waits at least two minutes before excusing himself to do the same.”
“Exactly.” Darby tapped her wristwatch. “You’re ninety seconds early.”
“I hadn’t finished.” The elevator arrived with a bing. The doors slid open and they stepped inside. “Part two of the trick is nobody from the reception realizes they’re gone, leaving them free to meet in the lobby and go back to the hotel room to have hot wedding sex.”
The elevator doors slid shut.
Trapping her in a confined space with a very large, very delicious-smelling and very sexy male. Who, goddammit, she was crazy-stupid in love with. Her heart began to pound, setting off little trails of fireworks up and down her body. The elevator jolted and started to descend.
“That doesn’t sound like the part two of the trick I know.” She kept her gaze locked on the floor numbers above the door. “In my version, the woman, who doesn’t want to complicate things any further, gets into her car and drives home. Alone.”
The elevator jolted again as it reached the ground floor. The doors slid open, but Reid’s arm was suddenly braced against the wall, blocking her exit.
“I like my version better.” His voice, deep and raw with desire, conjured up all sorts of wicked promises.
Darby willed her feet—still in her shoes this time, so, yay—to cooperate with her legs and carry her out to the parking lot. But while her legs and feet might’ve been willing, her wobbly knees weren’t. If you try to duck under to escape, they threatened, we’re going to drop you to the floor and you just know those arms of yours will wrap around his waist and hold on for grim death.
“Reid, move your arm,” she said, but with no real force behind it.
He obediently dropped his arm.
Darby’s legs and feet changed their minds and refused to budge.
The doors slid shut. The elevator hummed softly.
“In my version,” Reid said, turning to face the door panel, “nobody has to be alone.”
Darby stared at the floor numbers.
“My room’s on two,” he told the closed doors.
“Wedding sex,” she said. “And we don’t talk about anything else.”
“Agreed. Just wedding sex.”
Darby punched the number two button and it lit up. The elevator rose smoothly to the second floor and they walked out of it in silence, Darby following him along the short corridor. He unlocked his door and stepped inside, pinning the door open so she could enter. She did, heels tapping an uncertain beat on the polished wooden floor as she moved into the tastefully decorated room. The balcony drapes were still open to the breathtaking view of Lake Wakatipu. A single lamp was on, casting their reflections onto the glass doors with a background of glittering stars and the inky lake.
Reid came to her side, slipping the evening purse from her shaking fingers and tossing it onto a side table along with his key card. Then he crossed to the king-sized bed and yanked the comforter down. Because, oh man, the kind of sex they’d be having was the kind to knock holes in walls and tear bedsheets to shreds.
The thought sent a flurry of delicious shivers through her.
She watched him in the glass, the controlled power of his movements, the sureness and confidence with which he carried himself, and the breadth of his shoulders beneath his white shirt. He caught her watching as he unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, and a flicker of a smile crossed his face as he tackled the rest of his buttons.
The room was far enough away from the noisy reception below that the stillness of the night emphasized her soft gasp when he shrugged out of his shirt. Her fingertips tingled in anticipation of tracing the hard lines of muscle crisscrossing his chest, and she wouldn’t waste another moment on the view outside when the view inside had the power to make her heart race.
Darby turned and closed the distance between them, setting each palm either side on his rib cage, lightly stroking his smooth skin with her fingertips. She wanted to knock him down, tie him up, and reacquaint herself with every inch of his skin—the smooth, the stubbled, and the sprinkled with hair—for hours. Desperately missing her man style foreplay.
She moved in closer still, bumping her hips against his and sliding her hands around to his back. Oh, she could write sonnets just about his back and three-act plays about how much she loved his ass. She pressed her lips to the warm spot where his neck met shoulder, inhaling him much the same way as some connoisseurs at their table tonight had sniffed their wineglasses. Her nose bumped against his collarbone and she realized she was shaking. A big hand spanned her nape, fingers gentling her in soothing strokes. He cupped the back of her head and she tilted her gaze up, but his eyes were hooded and the lamplight not bright enough to illuminate the expression in them.
It was enough—it had to be enough—that she felt each ragged breath he took through her breasts that were pushed into his chest. That she could feel him stiffening against her stomach. He wanted her. For one last hurrah anyway.
Reid lowered his head and his mouth staked its claim. First, gentle exploratory kisses. Followed by recognition kisses as his tongue danced sensuously along hers. Then, as hands divested each other of clothing, kisses that left her insatiable for more.
Pants, bra, shoes, dress, belt, socks, and a pair of pink panties fluttered or thumped to the floor. They struggled to keep their mouths together, as if they needed the other to breathe like a drowning diver needs to share a buddy’s oxygen supply, but finally they fell in a tangle on the big bed.
He suited up with protection from his nightstand and rolled on top of her, flattening her into the sheets with so much hard naked skin that she squirmed beneath him in sensory overload. She wanted him above her, under her, deep inside her. All at once, right then, but not yet as then it would be over too soon and she couldn’t bear it to be over.
Ever.
She wriggled and dipped her hips, trying to shift his erection, which was notched into her lower belly, even lower.
Reid, forearms braced either side of her, stopped her downward progress by raising his body a little off hers and dipping his head to kiss her so hotly she thought she felt her toenails smoldering.
“Please,” she whimpered into his mouth as she skimmed her hand between their bodies and stroked him. A girl had only so much control before she needed to take charge.
But Reid, she suspected correctly, had no intention of letting her have control tonight. He located her wandering hand and swept it up above her head, pinning it against the pillow. “Don’t move it down again,” he ordered.
She couldn’t prevent a frustrated moan from escaping as he eased off her, stretching out beside her on his side. He trailed fingernails lightly over her breastbone and circled one of her nipples. She took a harsh breath in, her breast pushing itself further into his palm that had settled over it.
He replaced his palm with his mouth and drew her nipple deep, swirling his tongue around the peak until she arched into him and threaded the fingers of her free hand into his hair. He released her left breast and kissed his way over to the right, repeating the blissful torture until she was pretty sure she was about to lose her mind. Finally, he showed mercy by drawi
ng back to meet her gaze.
“This isn’t going to be a quick, indifferent hookup, Darby Livingston,” he said.
“You said wedding sex.” She freed a hand and snaked it down her body again, reaching for the part of male anatomy that often had the first and last word on decision-making.
He got to her hand before she could touch him, gently encircling her wrist and linking their fingers. He slid their hands low over her stomach, directly above her wetness. She stretched out her fingers but, dammit, they weren’t long enough. Reid flexed his hand, his longer fingers gently parting through her curls to deliver one light stroke to the heart of her.
Darby whimpered, arching off the bed, delicious shudders racking her as the pads of his fingers slid farther along her flesh. He dipped them with tantalizing slowness inside her, then withdrew.
She groaned again. “By definition, wedding sex is a hookup. Can I have some of that now, please?”
He chuckled, continuing to stroke her with a frustrating measured and easy touch. “For other people, maybe. Not for us. You don’t get let off the hook that easy.”
He replaced her hand back on the pillow, giving her a stare of mock sternness. “Stay.” And when she didn’t attempt to move again, the corners of his mouth turned up. “Who’s a good girl?”
The teasing affection in his tone melted her.
Goddammit, don’t ruin things by making me feel, Reid!
She mock glared at him in return, baring her teeth. “I’ll make you pay for that.”
“I’m paying now,” he said. The teasing and affection remained in his rough voice but this time it was joined by a sliver of pain.
He knows, she thought as he dropped light kisses over her breasts and worked his way down her body to her inner thighs. He wants to make it good for me, for us, because this really is the last time. It has to be, otherwise the price our hearts will pay is far too high.
Love Everlasting Page 19
