“Make up your mind.” There’s that hint of teasing in his voice that has me grinning despite the overwhelming need slowly building into an inferno.
With his fingers plucking my left nipple deftly, his mouth closes over the right one, sucking and nibbling gently, slowly increasing the pressure as he gauges my arousal.
“Breathe, sweetheart.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and I slowly release the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Growing up, whenever I’d hear my parents argue, I’d hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable sound of things breaking and my mom’s tears. But this…this is something different. It’s the first time I’ve held my breath waiting for something good to happen. He nips sharply, and I yelp, but white-hot heat streaks straight to my core like lightning.
“Oh fuck. That’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.”
With a growl, he releases my hands and my breasts and cups my bottom, hauling me up off my feet and against his chest, so I’m sandwiched between his hard body and the tree. He’s holding me so tightly, I can feel the thump of his heartbeat, and for the first time in my entire life, I feel safe, although God knows why. If danger had a name and a face, it would be Liam Prescott with that sexy devilish grin of his. I barely know him. Maybe it’s because he’s a Navy SEAL—the strongest of the strong and the best of the best, bound to protect. Or, a voice in my head whispers, maybe it’s that deep and visceral connection I feel with him, like I belong to him, and him to me.
What the hell is wrong with me? My hormones are clearly making me deranged. But tonight, I’m like Scarlett O’Hara. I’ll think about it tomorrow.
I snuggle into him as I wrap my arms around his neck. I can feel his cock—thick and hard—pressing against my pubic bone, and I know he wants me as badly as I want him. I’m not used to having this effect on men, especially men like Liam. Feeling a sense of power mixed with a touch of mischievousness that is undoubtedly increased by the ratio of tequila in my blood, I bend my head and nip his erect nipple with my teeth.
He yelps with surprise, then laughs, a sexy deep bellow that only makes me want him more.
“Sweetheart, there’s no way we’re making it back to the house before I make love to you.”
My heart thuds erratically. “What makes you think I’m going to let you make love to me?” I counter.
“Because you need someone to take away that control you hold on to so tightly.”
“I most certainly don’t.”
“Afraid you’ll lose it for good and the world will spiral out of control without you holding on to it so tightly?”
“Of course not.” But that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
He kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Then what’s the harm? I leave for Afghanistan next week. Give me something to remember.”
There’s that engaging, impish grin of his again—he knows as well as I do it’s a line as old as time—and I can’t help but smile back. But I don’t want to say no. His teeth gently tug at my earlobe, and it’s my undoing. I’m just drunk enough to think this is a good idea. I have a ten-year plan, and a man isn’t on it. And certainly not a man like Liam. But maybe that’s what makes him, and tonight, perfect. I’m a continent away from home and my real life and responsibilities. Maybe it’s time I threw caution to the wind and had a little fun.
“Okay. Just this once.”
Chapter One
Charlotte
Eight months later
It’s dusk, my favorite part of summer in Charleston when the sky sheds the bright, cheerful blue she wears by day and wraps herself in a mysterious and broody cloak of purple embellished with jeweled stars. I sigh. Well, it used to be my favorite time. Now the stars just remind me of Liam, and what will never be. I shake my head. What never was in the first place, I remind myself firmly.
Pulling out the color-coded key to McKenzie and Gemma’s apartment I keep on my keyring, I let myself in. It feels dark and empty without Gemma’s bubbly chatter and Kenzie’s quiet presence. I’ll be glad when my best friends are back from traipsing around the world—Kenzie from sailing the Philippines with the gorgeous stranger she met in Las Vegas whom she’s falling in love with, and Gemma from San Francisco, where she’s currently with Walker Kinkaid, her best guy friend. It hasn’t been a big deal for me to keep our wedding business running while they’re gone—after all, I put the “plan” in our wedding planning business—but I miss them. And, if I’m honest, it kind of sucks always being the responsible one stuck working and keeping things going while my friends are off having fun.
I instantly feel guilty for thinking that way. It’s not like they’re on vacation; they’re both just doing what they can to get to the bottom of Liam’s mysterious death and clear his name. It’s not their fault they’re having exciting adventures in the process.
I sigh as I flip on the living room light. It’s a mess. The whole situation—not just my friends’ apartment. But the apartment’s pretty bad, too, with empty Chinese takeout containers and a pair of chopsticks littering the coffee table, pillows strewn all over the floor, and one black-and-white upholstered chair randomly planted in the middle of the room. I love Gemma to pieces, but we couldn’t be more different. How she up and left for San Francisco with Walker, leaving her apartment untidy, is beyond me. I automatically start straightening up, as if righting everything in the living room will somehow make sense of everything that’s happened over the last few months.
It’s been surreal. First, the news that Liam had been killed in Pakistan rescuing an American aid worker. The subsequent rumor, which was substantiated by Noah—McKenzie’s new love interest who, as it turns out, is a former Navy SEAL and current NCIS officer—that Liam illegally smuggled guns out of Iraq and sold them to La Frontera, a Mexican drug cartel. Then—after someone tried to kidnap McKenzie—the discovery that Liam hadn’t delivered the guns the cartel had paid for before he died. Now everyone—the drug cartel, Noah, and Walker—thinks Liam’s bucket list is actually a map to where the guns are hidden, and Noah and Walker are racing to find them before the drug cartel does. They’re also hoping to figure out what really happened in the process. Liam was larger than life even before he died—the ultimate hero. None of us can believe he would have committed what the news is calling treason, even though the evidence is pretty convincing.
Walker had filled me in on all the details a few days ago before he and Gemma took off to San Francisco chasing more things on the bucket list. Then last night they’d called and asked me to come by Gemma and Kenzie’s place to look for Liam’s passport, thinking if they could determine where he’d been in the months leading up to his death, they could find a clue that would narrow down where the guns are hidden.
Well, I could use a clue of my own—such as where the hell I’m supposed to find Liam’s personal effects in McKenzie and Gemma’s mess of an apartment. I give the living room a quick once-over, straightening up and putting the pillows back on the sofa in the process. My gaze falls on a framed quote on the fireplace mantle. Never Underestimate the Power of Fuck It. It was Liam’s motto. I vaguely remember one of his SEAL brothers giving the framed picture to McKenzie at his memorial service.
I feel a little pang of something. Envy? Regret? Wistfulness? It doesn’t matter. That philosophy is fine for a guy like Liam, but I don’t have that luxury. Someone’s got to be the responsible one, and it’s usually me. It always has been. Growing up, I made sure my two little brothers were fed, did their homework, and were shielded from the ugliness of our parents’ marriage. Even at Tying the Knot, the wedding business I’ve built with McKenzie and Gemma, I’m the one who keeps things on track. I’m so detailed and organized, my calendars have calendars. But I like it that way. People can call me uptight or anal all they want, but life goes smoother when things are structured and planned. Just ask my clients. Me keeping everything meticulously organized means they get hitched without a hitch. Ha. Maybe we should make that our tagline.
I s
igh, smoothing a white, faux-fur pillow with my hand before placing it perfectly angled in the corner of the sofa. The power of fuck it was pretty amazing in Playa del Carmen. For the first time in my life, I’d done whatever I wanted without thinking about the consequences, and what had happened between me and Liam that night had been unlike anything I’d ever experienced before or probably ever will again. He’d made me breathless with his kisses, and I’d come in ways I’d never imagined even in my wildest dreams.
But it was so much more than that. There was some sort of deep, unexplainable connection between us that made me both comfortable with him and drew me to him physically like a moth to a flame. We stayed up most of the night making love on the beach under the stars—laughing and talking, and then making love again until I finally fell asleep in his arms in one of those curtained beach cabanas reserved for the super-elite. He’d woken me up with kisses as the fingers of dawn began swirling colors across the morning sky like a child finger painting, and in those predawn hours, he whispered things that made me believe that maybe I’d been wrong about not letting a man into my life. That maybe love could be real, and not the bastardized version I’d grown up with and run from my whole life.
Of course, reality had come crashing down as it always does. Eventually, we’d snuck back into the beach house before our friends realized we were gone, grabbing an hour of sleep before we had to pack for the trip home.
“This isn’t over. I’ll come back for you,” he’d whispered at the airport in Miami where Gemma, McKenzie, and I waited for our connecting flight to Charleston. He and Walker would catch the red-eye a few hours later to San Diego. But a part of me knew, even then, that it wasn’t real. It was a one-night stand, plain and simple. Liam wasn’t boyfriend material. The only thing he was serious about was pursuing the next big thrill on his bucket list, and he was out of the country more often than he was home. And there was no room for a relationship on my ten-year plan, either, I remind myself firmly.
Then six weeks later, I stopped by McKenzie and Gemma’s apartment after the gym and found Liam sitting on the sofa, looking sexy and even more gorgeous than I remembered, and my heart skipped a beat. Seeing him there in person, that physical pull between us as strong as ever, made me realize that somewhere in my subconscious, I had unwittingly fallen for him and hoped maybe, just maybe, he felt the same. Somewhere deep inside, I’d thought he would come back for me.
“Charlotte!” His eyes lit up, but almost immediately became shuttered.
“Hi,” I said lamely, wishing I wasn’t a sweaty mess from the gym. You always want to look like the hottest version of yourself any time you run into someone you once had sex with. Especially when it was a one-night stand. Instead, I looked like hell. I didn’t even have on my yoga pants that made my butt look good. I’d thrown on a pair of athletic shorts and an old T-shirt and put my hair in a messy bun, then run seven miles on the treadmill. Definitely not looking my best.
Desperate to fill the silence, I asked, “How was Afghanistan?” My voice sounded overly bright and cheery, and I immediately wanted to kick myself. It wasn’t like he had been on vacation.
His lips twitched slightly. “Hot, dusty, filled with people who want to kill me. You know, the usual. I just got back in the States on Thursday.” My heart sank a little as I realized that was three days ago. Three whole days during which he could have called or texted or told me he was coming to Charleston and wanted to see me. Reality sunk in. Of course a guy like Liam would never be interested in a girl like me. He’d just been caught up in the moment at the airport in Mexico. “I spent a few days in San Diego, and then came here to take care of a couple of things before I ship out to Pakistan.”
“Want to come to dinner with us?” McKenzie asked, blissfully unaware that my heart was breaking into a million sharp-edged pieces.
“No. I have to go.” I could feel the tears pricking my eyelids, and suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get out of there before I burst into tears. I had known all along Liam was just a vacation fling. Damn my traitorous heart for missing the memo.
“But you just got here!” McKenzie protested.
“I, um, just remembered I have a meeting with a bride.”
She eyed my athletic shorts, old T-shirt, and messy bun skeptically. “Now?”
Oh God. Wrong excuse. “No. Soon. I need to um, go shower. I just came by to get the uh, the…” My mind went blank. Liam still had the same effect he did on me in Playa.
Luckily McKenzie saved me. “My dress design book? Who is it? Does she want to talk to me? We could meet you there, and then the three of us could go to dinner after.”
I knew the less time I spent with Liam the better. I just needed to save face and get the hell out of there. Go home, have a glass of wine, and organize a closet or something to relax and forget all about Liam.
“No!” I said too quickly. I took a deep, calming breath, realizing I was practically shouting. “I mean, no, it’s a new prospective client. I don’t know how long it will take. You guys go ahead. I have tons to do.”
“Oh.” McKenzie’s lips turned downward in a disappointed pout. “Okay, maybe—”
“Kenzie, mind grabbing me a beer?” Liam interrupted.
“Sure. You have time for one Chaz?”
“No. I really have to go. See you tomorrow.”
I almost made it out the front door before Liam’s hand pushed it closed, his palm pressing against it to keep me from leaving.
“I was going to call you tomorrow.” His voice was quiet, so McKenzie couldn’t hear him from the kitchen. “I want to explain—”
I cut him off. “There’s nothing to explain. I mean, it’s nice to see you and all, but what we had was just a vacation fling. It’s not like it meant anything! No follow-up necessary.”
He looked confused, even a little hurt, and I realized a guy like Liam probably wasn’t used to girls not falling at his feet. “Really? You didn’t think it meant anything?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I laughed, hoping it sounded convincing. “Neither of us is looking for anything serious. You’re a Navy SEAL.” I shrugged, as if that explained everything. “And I’m not looking for a boyfriend. It’s not personal. I just don’t believe in relationships.”
“You’re a wedding planner,” he argued, his lips curving up at the ludicrousness of my statement. Ironic, yes, but 100 percent true. I’d learned the hard way from watching my mother that falling for a man just made you vulnerable. I took care of myself and was careful to never get emotionally invested. At least until that night in Mexico, when Liam had turned everything I believed on its end and, for the first time ever, made me question whether it might be worth the chance.
“Look, I’ve got to go. Good luck in Pakistan. See you later, Prescott.”
I’d left and hadn’t heard from him again. Two months later, he was dead.
I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. Liam is gone. I need to quit thinking about him—and that night. I learned at a young age that wishing things were different doesn’t change anything. I just need to stick with the plan I laid out when I was sixteen and focus on work and keeping my life just the way I like it—tidy, organized, and uncomplicated.
I head into McKenzie’s room to get what I came for. Wow. McKenzie’s bedroom is worse than the living room. It looks like it’s been ransacked, with every drawer open and clothes haphazardly strewn everywhere. She must have been in a hurry when she packed for the Philippines. As much as my fingers itch to sort out the mess, I realize that’s probably overstepping my bounds, even with my best friend. I’m just here to look for Liam’s passport.
Gemma said McKenzie put away his personal effects to go through when she was more emotionally ready, but Gemma didn’t know where they might be. I survey the messy room, methodically planning my attack. Putting Liam firmly out of my mind, I throw myself into the task of finding his personal effects. I dig through the open drawers first, but there’s nothing in them but clothes. I move to her closet,
which is as much of a wreck as the rest of her room, but I still don’t find anything. Then I remember the waffles.
I touch the intricately carved silver necklace in my pocket that Liam was wearing just before he died. He gave it to the aid worker whose life he saved to give to McKenzie, and she’d put it in the waffle box in the freezer where she keeps all her jewelry. (I may be the organized one, but McKenzie is the neurotic one.)
She’d showed it to me shortly after Liam died, and a few weeks later, I’d asked her if I could borrow it while she was gone, saying it would be perfect to wear for a wedding expo I was going to. I couldn’t tell her the truth—that I wanted that one last link to Liam. I hadn’t told McKenzie, or anyone for that matter, what had happened between Liam and me that night in Playa. At first, because it had seemed sacred somehow, and part of me wanted to hold the memories close, as if giving voice to them would make them vanish like a puff of smoke. And then later, it didn’t matter. It hadn’t been anything significant. Except to me.
I hadn’t worn the necklace, but I’d slept with it every night, clutching it next to my skin as I fell asleep, wishing it was him. Even when Walker asked me for it a few days ago, I lied and said I couldn’t find it. I know it’s ridiculous, but I don’t want to lose my last tangible tie to Liam.
Thinking I might find Liam’s personal effects in the same place, I go into the kitchen and pull the waffle box out of the freezer. There’s nothing in it but the palmful of jewelry that belonged to McKenzie’s mom—a strand of pearls, some diamond earrings, a simple gold wedding band, and a diamond solitaire surrounded by smaller diamonds—and I resolutely add the necklace to the rest of the jewelry, wrapping it carefully before putting it back in the box and returning it to the freezer. It’s time to put Liam out of my mind—and my heart—forever.
I glance at my watch. It’s eight o’clock here, which means it’s also eight o’clock in Malaysia, but in the morning. Maybe I can catch McKenzie by phone. It rings and rings before going to her voicemail.
Resurgent Page 2
