Reunited with the Lassiter Bride

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Thank you,” said Evan. “We’ll let you know what we decide.”

  “Have you been here before?” Angelica asked him as the waiter stepped away.

  “Never.” He arranged three sheets of paper in front of him. “But our options were limited at this late date.”

  “It’s a Wednesday.” How busy could Malibu restaurants be? It was only five-thirty in the evening.

  He gave her a confused look. “I mean our catering options for the wedding.”

  She blinked. Then she glanced down at the papers in front of them. They listed price points per guest and per platter.

  “These are catering menus,” she observed.

  “Can’t get one past you.”

  “I thought we were here for dinner. I thought you were bringing the Emerald Wave information for us to discuss.”

  “I am. I did. But we’re also sampling the caterer’s menu.”

  Tiffany jumped in. “That sounds like fun.”

  “I’m game,” said Deke. “Not to brag, but I excel at eating.”

  Tiffany smiled as she gave Deke a sidelong glance.

  “You could have told me,” Angelica, embarrassed by her own confusion, said to Evan.

  “I thought I did tell you when we talked on the phone. Maybe you just didn’t listen. Mediterranean, southwest or continental.”

  Angelica didn’t exactly believe him, but she let it go, scanning the catering menus.

  “Continental has my vote,” said Tiffany.

  “I’d be happier if we knew what Kayla wanted.”

  “I finally got a voice mail from Matt in response to my text,” said Evan. “He says thanks. He trusts our judgment. And they’ll appreciate anything we can do before they get back. The connection was pretty bad, because I think he said something about the moat being flooded.”

  “The moat?”

  “The only logical explanation I could come up with is that the retreat is at a castle somewhere. I know there’s a pretty big storm off the North Sea. The upshot is they won’t be able to get home for a few more days. We’re on our own.”

  “I agree with Tiffany,” said Deke.

  Evan glanced up. “Of course you agree with Tiffany. You’re flirting with Tiffany.” He looked pointedly at her. “Watch out for this guy.”

  She grinned.

  “Southwest is a bit overdone lately,” Angelica noted. And the décor at Conrad’s mansion definitely lent itself to something a little highbrow.

  “Matt’s not a huge fan of Mediterranean,” Evan put in. “Does that settle it?”

  “Sure,” said Angelica. “Let’s go with continental.”

  “So, old world wines?”

  “Bite your tongue,” said Angelica. “California wines, for sure.”

  Evan smiled without looking at her. He knew full well the Lassiter family had many close friends in the wine business in Napa Valley.

  “Are you trying to pick a fight with her?” Deke asked him.

  Evan seemed to be doing his best to look offended. “I can’t make a joke?”

  Tiffany put up her hand to signal the waiter. “This seems like a great time to get the wine tasting underway.”

  “I like the way you think,” Deke muttered.

  After some consultation with the waiter, they chose several wines to taste along with a selection of appetizers, entrees and desserts from the continental menu.

  Despite the rather humble surroundings of the restaurant, the food turned out to be delicious.

  Angelica bit into a warm brie and smoked trout appetizer, enfolded in phyllo pastry and garnished with a light herb paste.

  “Oh,” she groaned, setting the remainder of the morsel down on her plate to savor the mouthful. “This is the best one yet.”

  “Try the shrimp,” said Tiffany. “Oh, man. I’m getting stuffed, but I just can’t stop.”

  “I need some real food,” said Evan.

  “Get them to bring you the duck or the lamb,” Angelica suggested. “But I think I’m going to have to trust you on how those taste. I couldn’t possibly eat anymore.”

  “You’d actually trust me on something?” asked Evan, a lilt to his tone.

  She turned to rebuke him for the sarcasm, but then she caught the sparkle in his eyes. She realized she had to stop being so touchy. He’d always had a dry sense of humor. She used to enjoy it.

  “So long as you don’t try to steal what’s rightfully mine,” she countered.

  In answer, he snagged the remaining bite of brie and smoked trout from her plate, popping it in his mouth.

  “Hey!” she protested.

  “Guess you shouldn’t have trusted me after all. Wow, this is good. Definitely add that to the list.”

  “You stole my trout.”

  “You left it unguarded.”

  “You said I could trust you.” She knew she should be annoyed, but she was only barely able to keep from laughing.

  “I believe you were the one who offered to trust me.”

  “Clearly, I was wrong about that.”

  “Clearly.”

  She sniffed. “Well, you owe me some trout.”

  “I’ll trade you for some duckling.”

  “Are you ordering the duckling?” asked Deke. “Then I’ll try the veal.”

  Angelica glanced at the menu. “You mean the duck flambé? With orange brandy?”

  “That’s the one,” said Evan.

  “You got yourself a trade.” She was about to shake on it, then quickly realized it was a mistake, and redirected her hand to her wineglass, lifting it and taking a sip of the rich merlot.

  Evan smirked. He reached below the table between them, squeezing her other hand. She nearly inhaled her wine.

  He leaned close, muttering in an undertone as Deke commented to Tiffany about the stuffed mushrooms. “It’s okay to touch me, Angie.”

  At that moment, Evan’s fingertips brushed the hem of her skirt, contacting her bare thigh. They both instantly stilled. Arousal radiated along her leg, electrifying her skin, contracting her muscles.

  “Orgasmic,” Tiffany declared.

  Angelica whimpered under her breath.

  Evan’s warm hand curled open, his palm spreading across her thigh, sliding ever so slightly beneath her skirt.

  “Please,” she managed to whisper.

  “Something wrong?” Tiffany asked her, looking concerned.

  “Nothing,” she managed, distracting herself with another swallow of the wine. She shifted, but Evan’s hand moved with her.

  Deke signaled the waiter, asking the man for the duck and the veal.

  Evan leaned toward her, his voice a ragged whisper in her ear. “Tell me to stop.”

  She tried. She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come out.

  His hand slipped higher, and her grip tightened on the wine glass.

  “Angie?” Tiffany’s voice penetrated the haze inside her brain.

  “Hmmm?” she managed.

  “I said do you have a preference for desserts?”

  “Uh. No.”

  “Torte? Éclairs? Maybe cheesecake?”

  “Sure. Yeah.”

  Evan’s fingertips swirled lightly against her skin. The sensation took her back months in time. For some reason, she remembered a particular morning when they’d lounged in bed at his house in Pasadena. It had been pouring rain, and he’d made hot chocolate, lacing it with coffee liqueur.

  “Maybe the pecan tarts?” asked Tiffany.

  “Okay,” Angelica managed.

  Tiffany peered at her strangely. “You look flushed. Are you having an allergic reaction?” Her glance darted from dish to dish. “Were there almonds in something?”

  “No, no.” Angelica put in quickly. “I’m good. I’m fine.” She put her hand down on top of Evan’s. She’d intended to push him away, but somehow it didn’t happen. Instead she pressed down on his hand, pushing it harder against her thigh.

  “The chocolate truffles,” said Evan. “Get them to bring
some of the chocolate truffles.”

  Tiffany smiled. “I love chocolate. It’s so richly decadent.”

  Evan’s touch was richly decadent, and indulgent, and Angelica had to stop him.

  “Are you dating anyone?” Deke asked Tiffany.

  “Seriously?” asked Evan. “You’re hitting on her during dinner?”

  “I’m asking her out,” said Deke. “There’s a big difference.”

  “I can tell the difference,” Tiffany offered breezily. “And he’s hitting on me.”

  Deke pulled back in his seat in mock offense, his hand on his heart. “You wound me deeply.”

  As Tiffany answered back, Evan leaned in close to Angelica’s ear again. “In case you’re wondering, I’m also hitting on you.”

  His words gave her the strength to tug his hand away. He gave in easily, but she was left quivering.

  * * *

  Evan knew it was his turn to make sure Angelica got home safely. By the time they made it through the all the wines, she was in no condition to drive, and Tiffany was probably over the limit as well. He paid the bill and slid his keys across the table to Deke. Then he held out his hands for Angelica’s keys.

  “I’m fine to—” She stopped herself. “You’re right. I’m not driving anywhere. But I can call a driver.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll take them until midnight just to get here.”

  “They’re on call for a reason.”

  “And I’m already here. I trusted you to drive my car, and it’s a whole lot more expensive than yours.”

  “Can you drive an automatic?” she asked, humor lurking in her slightly glassy eyes.

  “I’ll manage.” He flicked his gaze to Tiffany. “We’ll have to put you in a cab.”

  The sports car was a two-seater.

  “I’ll take her home,” Deke offered.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” said Evan.

  “You’ll love Evan’s convertible,” Deke said to Tiffany.

  She looked at Evan. “I’m more worried about you with Angie than I am about Deke with me.”

  “Seriously?” Evan asked, honestly offended. “How well do you know me?”

  Tiffany studied his expression for a critical moment. “I don’t want you fighting with her.”

  “I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” said Evan.

  Truth was, fighting with Angie was the very last thing on his mind. Seducing her, now that was the real danger.

  But he could absolutely control himself. His hand might still be warm where he’d caressed her thigh, and he might remember the unique, arousing texture of her skin, but he was keeping it in context. He had to keep it all in context.

  “You’ll be okay with him?” Tiffany asked Angie.

  “I have to get my car home somehow.”

  “You’re not drunk?”

  “I’m not drunk. I’m merely over the legal limit from doing my duty as a bridesmaid.”

  “Fair enough,” said Tiffany. “I on the other hand did my duty with the dessert.” She popped the last chocolate truffle into her mouth.

  “How do you stay so slim?” asked Deke.

  “Give the compliments a rest,” she responded with a laugh. “They’re not going to work.”

  Watching the exchange, Evan couldn’t help feeling envious of Deke. He suddenly wished he and Angie had just met tonight, that they had no baggage between them. If that were the case, he’d also be putting on a full-court press.

  “You ready?” he asked her, resisting the urge to smooth stray wisps of hair away from her forehead.

  She reached for the purse between them. “I really didn’t think this through.”

  “I’ll get you home safe,” he told her.

  She gave him a nod of agreement and slid from the booth. The two couples separated at the bottom of the café steps. Evan settled Angie into the passenger seat before starting her car and pulling onto the highway.

  As he drove, he struggled to push away the memory of her warm skin. But instead, he found himself wondering what she’d thought. When he’d caressed her thigh, she hadn’t immediately pushed him away.

  Maybe she was too shocked by his behavior to react. Or maybe she’d been sitting there fuming mad. He knew nothing good could come of bringing it up again. But that didn’t mean he could stop it from ticking through his mind.

  He made it fifteen silent minutes down the Pacific Coast Highway before he cracked. He wheeled into a dark parking lot overlooking the surf and the moonlit night.

  “What?” Angie was clearly confused by the unexpected stop, glancing around outside.

  He angled his body to face her. “Should I apologize here?”

  Her jaw went lax in obvious shock, and her eyes went round in the dashboard glow. “You’d actually do that?” she asked in an awed whisper.

  It took him a moment to realize what she was thinking. She thought he was talking about how he’d gone along with J.D.’s will. For some reason, she’d guessed he meant the big apology, the one where he told her he’d been wrong all those months, that she was justified in not trusting him, and that the problems between them were his fault, not hers.

  That was never going to happen.

  “For what I did in the restaurant,” he clarified.

  “The...oh. Okay.” She schooled her features and glanced away from him.

  “I didn’t do it to upset you.” Half his brain was telling him to shut up already, while the other half seemed hell-bent on ploughing forward. “It was an accident. Well, at first. But then...you didn’t seem to mind.”

  “I minded a whole lot.”

  “You didn’t stop me.”

  She looked at him again. “You took me by surprise.”

  “I took me by surprise too,” he admitted.

  They both fell silent, and the air seemed to thicken inside the dim car. His gaze moved to her full lips, and her taste from last night invaded his senses. He wanted to kiss her again, wanted it very badly.

  “Evan, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” He hadn’t made a single move here.

  “I can see what you’re thinking.”

  “You can read my mind, Angie? Really?”

  “You’re remembering what it was like between us.” She swallowed. “You remember it being good.”

  “It was good.”

  “Sex is always good.”

  Her words were like a bucket of cold water. “Always?”

  “Evan, don’t.”

  “You’ve had a lot of sex lately, have you?”

  She smoothed the hem of her skirt. “That’s none of your business.”

  “With who?”

  “Stop.”

  Hard anger invaded his stomach, turning his voice to a growl. “Who, Angie? Who’ve you been sleeping with? Was it Jack Reed?”

  “Jack’s with Becca now.”

  “Doesn’t mean he wasn’t ever with you.”

  “I am not having this conversation.” She abruptly swung open the door.

  He leaned across the car, reaching for her, but she slipped out too quickly, slamming the car door firmly behind her. He was out his side in a shot, pacing his way to her.

  “Tell me the truth,” he demanded. It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered about Jack Reed. And it wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to take the man apart.

  She glared defiantly up at him, her back against the car. “Why? Why would you even care?”

  “That’s a yes.”

  “It’s not a yes,” she retorted.

  “How long?” he asked, his tone deceptively soft. “How long after you left my bed were you in his?”

  “I never slept with Jack.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe whatever you want, Evan. But I have never lied to you, and I’m not about to start now. I haven’t slept with anyone since we broke up.” She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. “When would I have time for a relationship? And you, of all people, you, Evan—” she jabbed a finger against his
chest “—should know I don’t just jump into any man’s bed.”

  He trapped her hand, holding it against his thudding heart. “Nobody?”

  Her eyes were black as the night around them. “Nobody. And I’m insulted that you asked.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Angie.” He wasn’t entirely sure if it was an explanation for his suspicions or an observation in the moment. Every time he saw her, he was blown away by her beauty. “Men must hit on you all the time.”

  “I understand how to say the word no, Evan.”

  “Yeah?” He felt himself swaying forward.

  “Yeah,” she told him with conviction.

  “Then tell me no.”

  To be fair, he didn’t actually give her time to answer. His lips were on hers again before she could even draw a breath. In the back of his mind, he realized he had to stop doing this. He had no right to kiss her, no right to touch her, no right in the world to ask about her sex life. But right and wrong seemed to fly out the window when she was near.

  Before he knew it, she was in his arms, their kiss deepening. Somehow, she had imprinted on him. The memory of making love to her was burned into his spinal column. He knew to wrap one arm around her waist, bury his fingers in her hair, caress the back of her neck, tease her tongue with the tip of his own. Her little moan was familiar to his ears, while the scent of her hair took him back in time.

  The next move was his hand at her waist, slipping under her blouse, rising up to cup the lace of her bra.

  “We can’t,” she cried, pushing her hands against his chest and turning her head away.

  He ordered himself to let go, but it took his body a moment to react.

  “We can’t let that happen.” She pressed herself back against the car.

  He eased off, putting some space between them, his breath ragged. “I didn’t plan it.”

  There was an edge of hysteria to her voice. “You think I did?”

  “No. No. Of course not. I’m only saying—” After all they’d been through, he shouldn’t want to make her feel better about the slipup, but for some reason he did. “I’m only saying the physical attraction is still there. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything.” She paused. “Okay, it means we have to be careful.”

  “We do,” he agreed. They seemed all but combustible when they got close to each other.