Fine by her. It was still the best time she’d had in as long as she could remember.
Tonight was her third straight Wednesday joining the guys for darts and a most momentous occasion, because she and Molly had just soundly beaten Jase and Sean. After that, Sean went to grab another round, and then Molly left on a quest to find out what—or rather who—the holdup might be.
Elbows propped on the tabletop, Jase took a swallow of the Newcastle he was nursing. Then holding the bottle by the neck, he swirled the foamy beer around the bottom.
“Sorry about bailing on our run Sunday,” he offered, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder before going on. “Dad called and wanted to grab lunch.”
Brows arched, Emily angled herself to face him. Jase and his father hadn’t resolved much since the night Jase found his parents together, and she knew the estrangement was eating at him. “How’d it go? Are they still together?”
He took a deep breath and set the bottle down. “Didn’t go as well as I’d hoped it would. I mean, I thought by now he’d have seen reason. But she’s still there and he says she’s staying.”
“He loves her?” Emily asked, though the answer was obvious.
“He never stopped.” The blue eyes that met hers were filled with frustration. “I just don’t get how it’s possible. The stuff she did to him before she left was brutal. She slept around on him, took off for days at a time. It wasn’t even like she was discreet. Everyone knew. Everyone talked. Everyone pitied him. And that was just the stuff from before she left. After… Hell. The mind games, Em. My dad never got over it. He barely got through it. If it hadn’t been for—”
Jase cut off, but Emily knew what he’d been about to say.
“Bob Gainer,” she supplied, because Eddie had told her the part his father had played in helping the Fosters through that time. How Bob had all but moved Jase into their house while he and the guys had taken shifts getting Joe Foster to pull himself together. Whatever her past with Eddie, nothing could diminish what his family had done for Jase’s. She wouldn’t want it to.
Jase nodded. “Bob and Ray, Mick and Bear. They were the kind of constant my mom should have been. They got us through.”
She leaned a shoulder into Jase’s. Supportive. Friendly.
“How did you leave things with your dad?”
A humorless laugh. “Awkward. I mean, he told me I was welcome in the house any time. Which was fucking weird to have him say. And weirder still was the tagged-on caveat that I have to treat Clara with respect.”
Emily straightened. “Will you go?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s okay to need some time, Jase. It’s a lot to get used to. Just don’t let it keep you from your dad.”
“No way. And he wouldn’t let that happen. He’s going to come out to my place every other Sunday.” Jase pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes so those long, dark lashes fanned across his heavy cheekbones. “Like shared custody or something.”
She couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for him, considering how close he was to his father. She and Jase talked some more, lightening the mood by joking about which sporting events constituted holidays he should fight for with his dad. Super Bowls and Stanley Cup Playoffs were the obvious picks, but Emily thought Jase ought to also get a couple weeks every other year for the Olympics.
In the end they were both laughing so hard that they were wiping tears from their eyes. Slowly their laughter ebbed until they were smiling at each other as they found their breath.
“I needed that,” Jase confessed, running his hand over the scarred tabletop before giving it a single knock. “Kinda feelin’ like an ass here after all my years of dodging the friends thing, Em. Turns out you make a pretty good one.”
Their eyes met and her heart started getting that over-full feeling exclusive to Jase.
“Told you,” she said quietly.
He wasn’t breaking away. Just giving her that deep-blue, searching look that had the butterflies stirring within her. “I guess you did.”
His voice was so deep.
He was sitting so close.
If he leaned in—
Jase leaned back, stretching his arms out to the sides as he scanned the bar. His grin going wider, he jutted his chin toward the bar. “About time, Wyse. What, did you have to go pick the hops yourself?”
Emily turned around in time to catch Sean with his fisted hand giving the air in front of his fly a few crude tugs. Sean? Mr. Clean-Cut, all manners, boring…Sean?
Or maybe not.
Sean’s eyes cut to hers and she’d swear he blanched, but then the polished facade was back in place—his hand going quickly to the back of his neck.
“Emily, how are your parents?” he asked, going all polite and flashing that politician’s smile.
Too late. She’d seen the Van Wilder gleam in his eyes.
This guy was no gentleman at all. Which was awesome.
“Not a chance, Sean,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest Officer Brandt–style, as Molly, who’d been right behind him, crowed “Busted” for the table to hear.
It was almost enough to distract Emily from the sinking feeling in her belly and the question that had come to her the moment before. Had Jase actually thought she’d meant friends friends? Or worse…was that what he’d meant?
“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Sean stated, confidence coming off him in waves.
“Give it up, man.” Jase shook his head. “I swear I don’t know why you even try—”
“Because I’m the guy in line to take over Wyse hotels…” Sean leaned in to Jase, his voice low, but not low enough for Emily to miss the grumbled “douche biscuit” before he straightened to finish, “and appearances matter.”
Molly was giving him crap about the air jerk and going blind if he kept that up, and Sean was mumbling something about Belfast being his “safe place” while Jase seemed to be watching Emily.
Their eyes met again, and she ached a little at the thought that friendship and sex might be mutually exclusive in Jase’s mind. His eyes narrowed, and she looked away, because suddenly the truth she hadn’t been ready to accept was impossible to ignore.
She didn’t want just sex.
She wasn’t imagining being buddies with benefits.
She wanted the whole, real, messy, emotional, cuddly, sexy, affectionate, snuggle-with-me-while-we-watch-a-movie relationship.
And Jase was looking at her with the same fond, friendly, platonic smile he had for Sean, who was suggesting that Jase kiss his “beanbag.”
Molly threw an arm around Emily’s shoulders and gave her a rattling shake. “Emily, meet Sean. Hope you like dick jokes.”
As it happened, Emily did like dick jokes, almost as much as she liked the significantly loosened-up version of Sean. She liked laughing with Molly and teasing Jase and not feeling like she needed to guard her words quite so carefully around Sean.
She liked everything until the night wrapped up and they all pulled on their coats and said good-bye like friends do. But without the full-body embrace that was just long enough for the heat from one person to find its way into another. Without the threading of fingers and lingering last contact.
Without the tongue.
Back at her apartment, she’d closed the door, thinking about that night at the hotel with Jase. The feel of his big, bare chest against her back. His arms warm around her. His low rumbling laughter teasing at her ear.
The floor in front of her blurred, and she blinked. Brought her fingers to the corners of her eyes and found them wet.
Tears?
She shouldn’t be—
Her phone rang and she straightened, clearing her throat.
It could be a client.
Pulling the phone from her pocket, she stalled at seeing th
e name on the screen.
Jase Foster.
“Jase, what’s up? Did I forget something at the bar?” She sounded normal. Totally.
“No, nothing like that. I’ve got this wedding on Saturday for a buddy’s little brother I got into our IT department at the bank. Think I can convince you to go with me?”
Her heart tripped, clumsy and uncertain, because he’d taken Molly to lots of weddings. It could be the same sort of friendly gesture.
“Sure, that’s what friends are for, right?” she replied, fishing just a little as she cut through her apartment toward her closet.
Either way, she needed a dress. One that would challenge the most platonic of intentions.
Jase’s laugh was low.
“Yeah, but I’m not asking you to go as my friend.” His voice deepened, taking on a persuasive rumble. “There’ll be dancing.”
She stopped, turning away from her closet and crossing her room to her lingerie drawer instead. The smile on her face spread like the warmth through her chest. “Only if you promise not to drop me on my ass if I accidentally step on your foot.”
“Your sweet ass, Emily. I promise,” he said with another low laugh she could almost feel. “It’s a date then. Pick you up at three.”
A date. Heat swirled through her belly as she closed the drawer.
A date required something new and drop-dead spectacular.
She needed to go shopping.
* * *
“So this is a date with Jase Foster.” Emily sighed, leaning against the door to her place, her heart seeming to skip every other beat as she glanced down at the bouquet of oriental lilies, spray roses, and snapdragons. “Definitely different.”
Jase chuckled, looking down at himself and then around him. “I just walked in.”
Yeah, he had, and looking painfully good too. He’d dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a sapphire tie to match his eyes, his neatly mussed hair so perfect it would give Henry Cavill envy. One look at him and it was as if a giant digital clock had appeared above his head, counting down to when she could get him back here. To when she’d be able to get her fingers into those thick, dark waves and make them not so neatly mussed.
“But you’re picking me up, instead of meeting me at the church. You brought me flowers.”
“Wow, if only I’d known how low the bar was set.”
Not at all. Not even close.
But after all the waiting, the wondering, and—God help her—the hoping, she was experiencing every little detail on the grandest scale. Like the compliment he’d paid her when she opened the door. The one that had turned her knees to mush, not so much because of the words themselves but the way he’d said them. Rubbing that big hand of his across his mouth as he slowly looked her over from head to toe, and then murmured that it wasn’t good manners to show up the bride on her wedding day. Without backing her up against the wall with his hand beneath her skirt.
Okay, that she wasn’t entirely sure was a good thing. But it was sweet. And different. And she had to believe that if she played her cards right, there’d be some quality wall time in her near future.
“That dress is something else, Em.” He looked like he might be about to run his hands over the flowy skirt she’d fallen in love with on sight but resisted. Leaning in, Jase dropped a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful.”
She turned into him, her mouth less than an inch from his, her breath thin as she met his eyes.
He could have had her then. That very second if he wanted her. Backed her into the living room and had her on the couch, or just taken her right there against the coat closet door. Messed up the hair and makeup she’d taken nearly an hour to get right. And the only thing she’d have to say about it would be yes.
Instead, Jase cupped her cheek and, with a pained look in his eyes, brushed it once with his thumb before stepping back.
“I’m trying to be good here, Em. I swore I’d give you at least one real date before carrying you back to that bed and doing all the things I want to do to you.”
“Why?” she asked, alarmed at his sudden bout of crazy. “That’s nice, but unnecessary. Really.” Then stepping into the space Jase had just stepped out of, she walked her fingers up his chest. “Ooh, loophole. We could forget the bed altogether, and you could do all those things right here.”
She tapped the floor with her bare foot. “This spot looks comfy.”
“Emily.”
Her eyes trailed over him in a way she could only hope didn’t make him feel too cheap, but she just couldn’t help it. “Maybe you could just tell me all the things.”
“Behave,” he groaned, looking like he was really suffering.
“Fine, I’ll finish getting ready. There’s a vase under the sink. How about you take care of my flowers?”
She excused herself to take care of the last touches, adding a pavé link bracelet that was just the right amount of chunky and a pair of four-inch, strappy gold heels that contrasted nicely with the aquamarine color of her dress—and did things for her legs that even she had to admire.
A dab of perfume at her wrists…and another behind her knees, because with a date like Jase, a girl could only be counted on to behave for so long.
When they were ready to leave, Jase helped her with her coat, standing too close behind her so she could feel the heat of his body against her back, all that hard muscle tempting her to press into him and see how his restraint held up when truly tested. He scattered her plans by ducking in to press his lips against the side of her throat.
Once.
For about a second.
“Let’s go, gorgeous.”
Damn him.
They’d driven up to Rogers Park at the far north end of the city, and Emily was ashamed to admit how seeing a house of God with Jase in such close proximity affected her.
He took her hand and kissed her softly between her knuckles, something in his eyes telling her he knew exactly where her express-freight-to-hell thoughts were headed.
“Ready?”
Mustering a shred of that old spite, she narrowed her eyes on him. “You did this to me.”
He winked. “Don’t you forget it.”
The wedding was lovely. There was no chance of Tyra being overshadowed, and Bill’s smile was filled with such love that though Emily hadn’t met either of them before, she found herself dabbing a tear or two when they finally kissed.
Curious whether Jase had been as affected as she was, she turned to see a look in his eyes that she didn’t recognize but felt to the deepest part of her.
“Beautiful wedding,” she said, suddenly feeling shy.
Jase opened his mouth to say something, but then took her hand instead and nodded, looking up to the happy couple.
Outside the church, Jase’s hand slid down to wrap possessively around her hip, tucking her body close to his as they walked back to the car.
She’d never been able to walk with anyone this way. Her height made it damn near impossible, but not with Jase. With Jase, for the first time, Emily felt like she’d found her perfect fit.
* * *
Jase knew what Emily did to his restraint and that he’d been playing with fire from the second he walked into her place instead of having her meet him downstairs. But he hadn’t been able to resist building the anticipation. Teasing her with the light touches he knew got to her almost as much as seeing the evidence of their effects got to him—the trailing goose bumps, the parted lips, and puffs of breath. The way his name sometimes slipped past her lips in that needy way. He’d wanted her thinking about him, ready for him, aching for him the way he’d been aching for her for—hell, too damn long.
And now he had what he’d been dying for.
Emily giving him that soft smile and sexy laugh, those little looks that made him feel like he was the luckiest fucking guy on the
planet—because how? After everything, how had he gotten this girl?
They were dancing. The party was winding down, the music was slow, and he had Emily pulled close as they swayed to Ella Fitzgerald’s timeless “Unforgettable.”
Her fingers threaded into his hair where her hands met behind his neck.
“So how long does a girl have to behave on a date with you, Jase?” she asked, her smile turning just a little wicked.
“You’re killing me, Emily.” But damned if he wanted her to stop.
Her hips turned within his hold, moving in time with the music. Following his lead. Making him think about his hands on her hips when there weren’t any clothes in the way, and how hot it was when she moved over him.
“Am I?” she asked, knowing full well she was.
Forcing his fingers to relax where he’d started working up a satisfying grip, he pulled her in closer. Close enough so their bodies barely brushed with each step and sway of the dance.
She noticed.
Then leaning in to her ear, he started talking. “I’ve been telling myself I can’t keep risking getting caught with you. But then I see that room at the back of the hall, where everyone dropped off the gifts at the beginning of the reception, but no one’s been in for the past hour, and I think about slowly dancing you to the edge of the floor, winding our way through those round tables, and slipping into that room.”
Emily had fallen out of sync with the music, her movements slowing as he spoke.
“I keep thinking about getting my hand under all this flowy business and finding out how wet I can get you.”
“Jase.” Her fingers had tightened in his hair, pulling in the way that drove him nuts.
“I keep wondering how many different ways I can get you to say my name before someone walks in and sees me taking what I couldn’t wait for.”
She shuddered, and when he straightened, her eyes were hazy with need.
She turned, looking at the door to that little fantasy, and heat rushed into her cheeks as Tyra’s mom and great-aunt walked out.
Laughter punched out of Jase’s lungs, and Emily grabbed the lapels of his jacket and buried her face in his chest, giving in to the humor of the moment before peeking up at him.
May the Best Man Win Page 19
