“I’m moving on now,” Jay said, simply because he needed to say it out loud.
“Good. I’ve been priming Natasha today about your arrival. Told her you were hot and single. Then I mentioned that you were going to the Knox family vineyard over the weekend and you should have seen her face.” Mason reached for his camera. “Actually you can see her face. I snapped a few shots of her reaction.”
“You did tell her I needed her to be a plus-one to a wedding, didn’t you?”
“And do all the legwork for you? Absolutely not. Natasha!” Mason called over his shoulder.
Her trailer door opened a crack. “More photos?”
“No photos. Cooper has something to ask you.” Mas slapped Jay’s shoulder as Natasha came out of the trailer and wiggled her way across the sand. “No time like the present.”
Mason vanished inside and shut the door behind him.
Natasha, still in her see-through robe, peered up at Jayson expectantly. “What’s up, Coop?”
Palming the back of his neck, Jayson smiled down at the supermodel. Here went nothing. “Are you busy on Saturday?”
Four
Denver drove separately to the wedding, which left Gia wringing her hands. She assumed he knew better than to wear a baggy T-shirt, jeans and Converse to a formal Knox event but...did he?
Her own attire was a blush pink bridesmaid’s dress, short but flowy. The dress was higher in the front than the back, the spaghetti straps showing off her shoulders. The narrow bodice gave her a bit too much cleavage, but it wasn’t as if she could help it.
Turned out there was no need to worry. Denver showed up for the wedding in head-to-toe Armani so it wasn’t hard to forgive his windblown hair with sunglasses perched in it. He turned plenty of heads upon his arrival, mostly other men at the party who knew sports.
She hadn’t spotted Jayson yet, but no matter. She’d achieved her goal. She was at Royce and Taylor’s wedding with a date, which meant she wasn’t going to trip over Jayson after she drank too much champagne and then try to take his pants off.
Denver made his way to the white folding chairs set up on the hill overlooking a stunning vineyard and Gia readied herself with the other bridesmaid, her very pregnant sister-in-law Addison.
Addi blew out a breath and gave Gia a steady smile. “I’m fine.”
“It’d serve Taylor right if you went into labor right here, right now,” Gia joked. After all it was Taylor who’d gone into labor after Addison’s wedding.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Addi said with a laugh.
The violinist started playing. As maid of honor Gia began the procession of two. She stepped onto the white runner, smiling for the photographer. She winked at her brother Royce who looked uncharacteristically nervous, before her eyes tracked to Brannon who gave her a nod.
When her gaze naturally reached the final groomsman, her heart thundered. Of course she knew that Jayson was a groomsman and would be standing with her brothers, but she wasn’t ready for the gut-punch vision of him at the end of an aisle she was walking. They’d been married outside as well, though their wedding was beachfront instead of among a backdrop of grapevines.
Her smile tightened along with her grip on the bouquet of lilacs. She could do this. She would. For her brother.
Positioned up front, she scanned the crowd for her date, finding Denver sitting in full man-spread in the second row. Before she could decide how she felt about that, Addison took her place next to Gia and Taylor began her descent.
Taylor made an ethereal bride in white, the short beaded train of her dress shimmering in the midday sunshine. Tears pricked Gia’s eyes as she watched her best friend take Royce’s hand, and they rolled down her cheeks as she considered that her best friend was about to become her sister.
Once Royce had kissed his bride, and Addison and Gia had gone through several tissues, the crowd cheered for the latest Mr. and Mrs. Knox. The exit music began, which meant Gia was officially off the hook.
Or so she thought.
Brannon bypassed her to take Addi’s arm. “Sorry for the bait and switch, sis, but my wife needs me.”
“You wish,” Gia teased. Addison chuckled.
Addison, her hand bracing her very pregnant belly, beamed up at her husband before looping her arm in his. Bran mumbled something to her and she nodded, assuring him she was “still fine.”
“Stuck with me, then,” Jay commented as he offered Gia his arm.
“The sacrifices we make for those we love,” she mumbled before pausing to smile for the photographer. “I didn’t see your date.”
“She’s seated behind your date.”
Gia turned her head to find her date leaning over a chair and chatting up a gorgeous brunette. She had to blink twice to be sure she was seeing correctly. “Is that—”
“Natasha Tovar. Supermodel.”
Yes, that’s what Gia thought. She let out a noncommittal hum. “Did Mason hook you up with Miss Sports Illustrated?”
“He introduced us. She likes my accent.” He leaned down when he spoke. Whenever he was close, she had trouble thinking clearly.
“You don’t have an accent.”
“To Natasha I do. She’s Russian.”
“Good for her,” Gia grumbled.
The guests meandered to the tent next and Gia and Jayson waited for their dates. As the supermodel approached, Gia felt her lip curl.
It’d have made her day if Natasha Tovar had been airbrushed within an inch of her life in her photos, but the gorgeous brunette was every bit as tantalizing in person as on a glossy magazine page. She was tall and leggy with high cheekbones and big eyes. Every other step she took revealed one supple thigh through the slit in her short black dress.
“What about your guy?” Jay rumbled, his voice low. “Does he own a hairbrush or is that how the kids are wearing it these days?”
Jerking her attention to Denver, who she honestly hadn’t been watching, Gia retorted, “I admit, it’s nice to date someone younger after having been with an older man for so long.”
Jay smirked, his confidence unwavering. “Aged to perfection, sweetheart.”
Goose bumps cropped up on her forearms the way they did whenever her ex-husband was accidentally sexy. Which happened more than she’d dare admit. Thankfully their dates reached them before he noticed her reaction.
“Dude, do you know who this is?” Denver asked Gia, his thumb pointing at Natasha.
“Ms. Tovar, is it?” Gia extended a hand. “It’s lovely to meet you. I didn’t know you were dating our Jayson.”
“Coop and I met a few days ago and we hit it off. He’s not gay like his brother so it worked out.”
Gia pressed her lips together to smother a laugh and turned to Jayson. “Such high praise.”
“Looks like Denver has all of his teeth,” Jayson said under his breath. “Good for you.”
Gia leered at him but he still wore that infuriatingly handsome smirk. He swept Natasha away and Gia groused in their wake, wishing they didn’t look good together. They did. Dammit.
“She’s hot,” Denver put in as he placed his hand on her lower back.
“Not all of us are built like giraffes,” she said, noting that she was being catty but not really caring.
“No, baby, not you.” Denver bent his knees to come eye to eye with her, his hands gripping her biceps while he looked straight into her eyes. “You are gorgeous in another way. A different league. Beneath this package of curvaceous goodness, you deliver a totally gnarly experience.”
Judging by his smile that was a compliment. “Um. Thanks?”
“You’re welcome. Let’s find some grub.” She and Denver walked to the reception tent overlooking the vineyard. Where Addi and Bran’s wedding had been contained to the immediate backyard, Taylor and Royce’s was more sprawling. There were easily thr
ee times the number of guests here than at Bran and Addi’s. Maybe Gia would be lucky and she wouldn’t run into Jayson and Natasha again tonight.
Alas, when Denver and Gia approached the bar, Jayson was there, handing off a slim glass of clear bubbly liquid with a lime wedge in it to Natasha.
“What do you think, baby? Shots?” Denver asked Gia. Jayson turned and frowned. No, not a frown. There was an entire lightning storm forming behind his eyes.
Ignoring them both, she ordered for herself. “Dirty martini, up with three olives. Blue cheese stuffed if you have them.”
“Shot of rum and a bitter IPA. Something local if ya got it.” Denver seemed none the wiser to Jayson’s disapproving presence.
Well, her ex could just deal with it. She didn’t like his date any more than he liked hers.
The bartender made their drinks and Jayson, one hand wrapped around a glass of red wine, the other around Natasha’s waist, gestured to a table.
“Dirty martini,” Natasha laughed before she walked off with Jayson.
“What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Gia whispered to herself.
“It means she knows you got it going on, baby,” her date answered.
“Gia,” she snapped, shooting lasers from her eyes at Denver. “My name is Gia.”
“Jee-ahh.” His grin widened.
She sighed. She guessed that was better than “baby.”
Five
“The guest rooms are on the second floor,” Gia was saying to Denver as they crested the stairs. It was getting late, most of the guests filtering off. As part of the bridal party, it was her duty to oversee that the guests who were staying the night had everything they needed.
“Cool. I’ll grab my stuff.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth—one that startled her since they hadn’t kissed yet. The night they’d enjoyed their first drink together had ended the way it’d started: with a demure brush of his lips on her cheek. “Yo, Natasha,” Denver called before jogging up the stairs.
Gia’s eyes sank closed. Of course the Russian goddess had witnessed that kiss. She turned, unsurprised to find Jayson there as well.
“We are staying, too,” Natasha informed Gia.
“Yippee.”
“Yes, it’s very exciting,” Natasha said, missing Gia’s sarcasm. “I’ll freshen up, but not done yet. More dancing.” She gave Jayson a limp shove on the chest and then glided up the stairs.
“Enjoying yourselves?” Gia asked him, her tone flat.
“I love a good wedding.” He pushed his hands into his pants pockets. He’d lost the jacket and bowtie from earlier, which left him in a white button-down shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows.
He looked good.
He rarely didn’t.
He cleared his throat. “Where’s your room?”
“Far end of the hallway.” Denver’s room was catty-corner to hers, not that she volunteered that information. “What about yours?”
“We’re in the middle.” He shot her a heated look and she could’ve sworn it was because he was thinking of the room they’d stayed in when they’d last visited her parents’ mansion. The master guest suite. At least neither of them had been stationed there tonight.
Still, the “we” niggled at her. “We” meant that he’d be crawling into bed with Miss Russia tonight.
“She’s not your type.” Gia worked to sound curious. To be fair, she was curious. She hadn’t seen him with anyone since they divorced and then he came out of the gate with a thoroughbred.
His shrug was infuriatingly blasé. “I don’t have a type.”
Her type used to be broad, dark and handsome with a protective streak a mile and a half wide. Five o’clock shadow and short-cropped dark hair. Eyes so blue she’d felt as if her soul was being inspected by a fallen angel...
But that was when she was in love with Jayson. She wasn’t in love with him anymore.
When she’d married him she thought he understood her; that he’d allow her to be herself and forge her own way. Instead he’d attempted to corral and protect her, a lot like her father and brothers had done.
She twisted her lips in thought. “I don’t have a type either.”
“Coop! I found these in our room!” Natasha jogged down the stairs waving a pair of maracas from a Knox family trip to Puerto Rico. A keepsake. Gia felt the slow burn of anger broil her hairline. This woman needed to learn keep her hands off what didn’t belong to her.
“Hey!” Gia lifted her voice, “Those are—”
“Going right back to where they came from.” Jayson removed the maracas from Natasha’s hands and gave them to Gia. As he walked off with his date, Gia heard him assure Natasha that they’d find some other way to entertain themselves on the dance floor.
And probably, Gia thought as she stomped upstairs, they’d find a way to entertain themselves in their shared bed, too.
Ugh.
“Cool digs.” Denver shut his bedroom door and met her in the hallway Then he rubbed his hands together. “What are those for?”
“Nothing.” Gia shoved the maracas into his chest and bypassed him to walk into his room. “Change of plans. We’re staying in my room.”
She exited carrying his duffel bag and opened the door to her room next. He followed behind her, a confused expression on his face.
“Together?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She dropped his bag onto the down comforter. “Together.”
Denver gave her one of his wide, carefree grins. “Sweet.”
* * *
“But dancing is my favorite.”
It wasn’t Natasha’s enunciation of favorite (fave-oh-right) that annoyed Jayson so much as the whine that accompanied it.
She was a beautiful woman with scads of confidence. She was educated and outgoing. She didn’t drink alcohol. She was polite to everyone she met.
But.
She was needy and clingy and driving him up the wall. He’d danced with her. And danced. And danced.
He unwound his date’s fingers from his forearm. “Natasha. No means no.”
She thrust out her bottom lip. It didn’t make her any less attractive.
He offered a tolerant smile and gentled his voice. “If I don’t have a cigar with Brannon, he’s going to kick my ass.”
She let out a sharp gasp. “Cigars cannot touch this mouth.”
“It’s just one,” he said, instead of so, what? There wasn’t a single spark of attraction between them, though sleeping with her had crossed his mind. If for no other reason than to take his mind off his ex-wife, who was swishing around here in a short dress with enough cleavage to fall into.
He’d bet Denver noticed. Jayson sawed his teeth together.
“No kissing,” Natasha hissed before she scampered off. The band played a fast song and she grabbed hold of a geriatric gentleman and started dancing with him. Jayson seemed to remember that guy from a board meeting. Anyway, the old guy looked happier than Jay was about the dancing, so they could have at it.
Outside, he found Bran standing in a half circle with a few other guys from work.
“There he is.” Bran handed over a cigar and cutter. “Where’s your supermodel date? Did she finally realize what a loser you were and ditch you?”
“She’s dancing.” Some more.
“Gia and Denver Pippen?” Bran asked around the cigar between his teeth. “What’s that about?”
Jayson cut and lit his own cigar. He took a long puff and blew out his answer. “Wish I knew.”
“Haven’t seen them in a while. Did they leave?”
Jayson welded his back teeth together. “I think they’re staying.”
More like he knew they were staying. At the end of the hall. He saw her go upstairs earlier. If she’d met Denver in that room, Jayson had a good idea what they were doing right no
w.
He shouldn’t care, but when it came to Gia, married or not, he’d always had the fierce desire to protect her. Denver seemed harmless—the sports star probably did more damage to himself than he’d ever do to another person—but she might need a reminder that she didn’t have to wander that far down the evolutionary scale to rummage up a date.
“Huh.” Bran sent a derisive look at the second floor of the house where a few bedroom lights were on. Gia’s brother didn’t go on a rant about her and Denver, and Jayson understood. Bran was close friends with Jay, had been for years, but if he had to choose sides, Bran would choose Gia. That was the way it should be.
“How’s Addi? She holding on to that baby a while longer?” Jayson asked, segueing as seamlessly as possible.
“She’s taking it easy tonight. Other than a few kicks to the beat of the music, she says the baby is content to wait.” Bran’s smile was contagious. “God, I can’t wait to meet her. My daughter.”
“Me too.” Jay slapped him heartily on the shoulder. Brannon and Royce were family. Being divorced from Gia hadn’t changed that. After they’d split, she’d insisted no one treat Jayson differently. The only one unable to follow that request was Gia herself. She’d been aloof and cool for the most part. Exception being at this very house about six months ago...
“Gentlemen,” Royce greeted them upon his approach. He was still dressed in his tux, the formality suiting him. Taylor, in her formfitting lace wedding gown, a scooped V in the front and back, wore a tired smile.
“Cigar?” Bran offered Taylor.
“Shut up.” She gave her brother-in-law a playful slap before fussing with a drooping ring of flowers in her hair. “I’m falling apart.”
“You’re not,” Jayson assured her.
“Thanks, Coop.” She smiled genuinely before turning her attention to Bran. “Say the word and we’ll delay the honeymoon. Royce and I want to be home when Addi has the baby.”
Jayson was surprised to see Royce nod his agreement. “It’s not a problem, Bran. Really.”
One Last Kiss Page 3
