Rogue Rascal (The Rourkes, Book 9)

by Kylie Gilmore

  Rude. I glare at the curtain for a moment, debating what to do. Welp, polite isn’t working for me, is it? Time for some next-level stuff to reach Jack where he’s at.

  I stealthily grab his towel and then all of the towels, hand towels, and washcloths in the space. I clutch them close, bending to scoop his discarded clothes off the floor before quietly slipping out the door.

  Jack

  Can’t a guy even jerk off in peace? Seriously! She has to barge in here to chat while I’m naked in the shower? I’m trying to do the right thing here! Now it’s ruined. How can I get back to business knowing she could barge in at any moment?

  I turn the water cooler in an attempt to cool down. It’s like she’s completely clueless about this man-woman stuff. How can she possibly think we could share a bed or even the floor and not hook up? I can’t believe I’m the one who has to keep a level head, putting our future annulment in the place of priority where it belongs. Me, the fun-time guy! Does she not realize how utterly tempting her modest dress is? It’s like a siren call that my lusty brain is tuned into because I remember what she looked like in Vegas in that slinky sequined dress, all generous curves, and my mind just keeps taunting me with that picture, making me want to rip that dress right off her.

  I stifle a groan. What is going on in that brilliant head of hers? Doesn’t she realize how close I was to pulling her into the shower with me? No. She’s completely clueless. It must be because she’s so straitlaced. It doesn’t occur to her I would be devious. I can’t let myself go there.

  I stay in the cool water as long as I can stand it before turning it off and reaching for the towel. Then I reach a little farther. Huh. I pull the shower curtain back more to check. I thought I left the towel on the bar here over the toilet. I pull back the curtain on the other side. There was a full rack of towels on the opposite wall, which is completely empty now. What the hell?

  I scan the room, which doesn’t have a single towel in it anywhere, not even a scrap of washcloth. My clothes are gone too.

  “Ry!”

  I can’t believe this. She stole my towel and my clothes? Is she that eager to see me naked? Is this her clumsy attempt at seduction? Because I’m not feeling it right now. And we’re supposed to get an annulment! No hookups! I swear, I’m gonna have to sit her down and give her a stern lecture after this. She needs to understand the facts.

  I step out of the shower and drip on the bath rug for a moment before opening the bathroom door a crack and poking my head out. “Ry! Gimme back my towel.”

  Silence. Not even muffled laughter.

  An uneasy feeling creeps over me. Did she leave?

  I step into the room. She did! She stole the towels and left! I’m gonna track her down, and when I do, payback. I slide open the closet door, figuring I’ll just dry off with a T-shirt from my suitcase and get dressed. My jaw drops.

  She stole my suitcase too.

  Even my tux. Her suitcase is gone too. She left. She really left.

  The only thing in here is her purple ruffly bridesmaid dress. I stare at it. She left me this hideous thing. Was she hoping I’d be desperate enough to put it on? Ha! Not likely. I’ll just—

  My mind races through possible outcomes to this, all of them ending with me naked tracking that devious woman down. Unless she took the car keys and drove back to her parents’ house. Shit. What if she took the hotel key card too? I’ll have to call one of the guys to help me out, and I’ll never hear the end of it. I scan the room. Where did I leave the hotel key?

  I freeze at the sharp rap on the door. “Uh, yeah?”

  “Room service,” a deep voice says.

  Crap! She said she was getting room service. And now she just leaves me to answer the door naked?

  “Leave it in the hall,” I say.

  “Need a signature,” the guy says.

  I consider my options. I could just leave the guy there, but then would he really go away? Would he get in trouble for not delivering the ordered stuff properly? Shit, shit, shit.

  FINE! I’ll do the right thing!

  I snag the bridesmaid dress off the hanger and wrap it around my waist. If this guy so much as smirks, he’s getting smacked.

  I open the door halfway, and she pushes it the rest of the way open. Not a guy from room service. It’s Riley, taking me in with an amused expression and looking damned pleased with herself. She faked a guy voice.

  I nearly choke on my own spit trying to come up with a response. She pranked me. Me! The king of the pranksters. No one has ever pulled one over on me like this. And I was too muddled from the whole bed-sharing debate to even come up with a prank of my own. Maybe that was her game all along—a distraction for the big setup. My devious untouchable wife.

  She smirks, and my hackles rise. “Lavender ruffles suit you.”

  Grr…

  Riley

  Heart pounding, I push the room service cart into our room. I intercepted the room service guy and took care of it in the hall earlier. Jack seemed shocked by my little prank at first, and I’d hoped it would turn to laughter. He’s the king of the pranksters, right? But now he looks pissed. Did I smile a little too much at the lavender ruffles? I just hadn’t expected that. I thought he’d grab a pillow or blanket off the bed for coverage. I left the dress because I hate the thing and knew he wouldn’t touch it. But then he did! Anyway, I’ve come too far with this prank to back down now.

  I grab the frosty copper mug of my Moscow Mule and take a fortifying sip. “I got you sparkling water.”

  He glares at me. “Where are my clothes?”

  “Down the hall by the ice machine. Towels are in your suitcase too. You sure pack light.”

  His jaw is tight. “Did you cram my tux in there too? It’s a rental, you know.”

  “It was just a little prank,” I say softly. “I thought you liked pranks.”

  “Where is my tux?” he bites out.

  “I put it into the garment section of my suitcase.” I take a casual sip of my drink, except my hand is a little shaky. I thought we’d be onto the fun part by now, laughing together, getting closer. I thought this was the way in with Jack.

  My gaze catches on a rivulet of water making its way down his muscular chest, and my mouth goes dry.

  He steps into my personal space, and I jerk my gaze up to find him glowering down at me. “And where’s your suitcase?” His voice is dangerously soft.

  A hot shiver races through me. I’m not sure if it’s my normal lust for him or the incredible, slightly dangerous heat radiating off him in waves. I can’t hold eye contact and look away, setting my drink back on the cart.

  I force a level tone as I come up with a solution that will give him what he wants and give me some much-needed space to calm down. “It’s with your suitcase by the ice machine. You go get it while I set up dessert on the desk. I don’t mind sharing.”

  He grabs my upper arm, and it tingles on the spot, which I suppose says everything about me. My lust is so much stronger than my common sense around him. “Oh no,” he growls. “I don’t trust you for a hot second. You’ll lock me out while I wander the halls in my ruffly lavender towel looking for my suitcase.”

  A laugh escapes. I hadn’t even thought of that. “I’d give you the key, but I don’t know where you’d put it.”

  His blue eyes spark fire. It’s simultaneously sexy and intimidating. Mostly sexy.

  “I’m not that devious, Jack. Really. It was one little prank. I swear I won’t lock you out.”

  “Says the woman who stole every single towel and every stitch of clothing except this hideous ruffled monstrosity. You didn’t even leave a washcloth behind!”

  I giggle at that image. He’s just so big. “Would a washcloth have helped?”

  “No!”

  I put my palms up. “Okay, calm down. Geez, for someone who’s always dishing out pranks, I thought you’d appreciate it more.”

  “I’ll appreciate it when I’m wearing clothes. Now get over here.” He man
euvers me in front of him before I can figure out what he’s planning, his arm banding around my waist. “You’re my cover. You have the key on your person?”

  I stifle a laugh. “Yes, it’s on my person.”

  “Where?”

  “I tucked it in my bra.”

  He grumbles something unintelligible and marches us forward in lockstep, me in front. “Open the door.”

  “This kinda feels like a hostage situation,” I quip as we step into the hallway. Fortunately, no one else is here. We must look like a ridiculous pair. Jack undeniably more so. Don’t laugh.

  He dips his head near my ear, his voice silky. “Is this making you uncomfortable?”

  I consider this as he marches us down the hall to the sign marked Ice. “Well, your giant ruffle is poking my butt.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear my ruffle is bothering you.”

  “Could you shift the big ruffle to the side?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Less talking, more walking,” he grumbles.

  It occurs to me why he doesn’t want to shift the ruffle. Maybe he likes having me close like this. Really, really likes it.

  “Are you turned on right now?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Then could you—”

  “No.”

  “You are turned on.” I can’t keep the smile from my voice. This is fantastic news!

  “Any guy would react to having a round ass rubbing against him. That’s just a fact.”

  Is round good? Or is he secretly saying I have a big ass?

  “Are you insulting me?” I ask.

  He halts, his arm snug around my waist, his breath harsh by my ear. “I’m not telling you when and I’m not telling you how, but I will get my revenge.”

  I shiver. I’d better sleep fully dressed, with the hotel key and the car keys. Or maybe I should take my chances with the bridesmaids.

  He resumes our march to the ice machine, and I reconsider. As crazy as it sounds, I like having Jack wrapped around me, even for a suitcase-finding mission.

  “Grab it,” he orders.

  Oh! Oh-kay. I reach behind me, and he pulls away. “My suitcase,” he barks.

  Oh. I was distracted by the rush of lust flooding my system. My brain seems to have stalled.

  I point to our suitcases in the alcove by the ice machine. “Safe and sound. So I’ll get mine and you get yours.”

  “You grab both of them.”

  “Why?”

  “You put them there; you bring them back.”

  “Are you going to march me back to the room wheeling two suitcases?”

  “No, but I’ll be very close behind you in case you decide to take off.”

  I look over my shoulder at him. “Where is the trust?”

  He bares his teeth at me. “You take me for an idiot?”

  I sigh and grab the suitcases, wheeling them toward our room. He’s hot on my heels.

  “How about I give you the bed and we call it even?” I ask by way of a peace offering.

  “How about you watch your back for the rest of the weekend?”

  A young drunk couple stumbles down the hall toward us. “Did you just come from the pool?” the red-haired guy asks, probably because Jack’s naked torso is clearly visible behind me. He’s taller.

  The brunette with heavy eye makeup rolls her eyes. “They’ve got suitcases.”

  “Keep walking,” Jack orders me.

  I do, but I glance back to see them checking Jack out.

  “Some kinky cross-dressing thing,” the guy says.

  “No judgment!” the girl calls. “Carry on!”

  Their laughter echoes down the hall. I bite back a smile as I open the door for us and drag the suitcases in. “See, Jack, it’s all in good fun.”

  He doesn’t reply; instead he goes to the bed, tossing the pillow wall back to the headboard before swinging his suitcase onto the mattress and opening it up. “Turn around.”

  I wander toward the room service cart and take a long swallow of my drink. It’s unfortunate, but the fact is I liked walking pressed up against Jack way too much. I’m flushed with heat and, as ridiculous as it seems right now, I’m still a little hopeful he’ll come around and we’ll have a moment. A real connection. Am I twisted or what?

  “Step farther away, please,” Jack orders.

  I set my drink down and walk to the far side of the room by the air conditioner. I blast it and lean over it a bit to cool off. The vent’s about a foot off the ground. The cool breeze feels wonderful. The back of my dress is a little damp from Jack’s wet body pressed against it. I grab the skirt and twist it around as much as possible to dry it without actually turning around. Oops. Gotta bit of a lift there. I smooth the dress down. I’ll just change and hang it up in the closet to dry overnight.

  “Can I turn around now?” I ask.

  “Not yet, you devious trickster.”

  “Come on. It was just in good fun. You got your stuff back no problem and—ahh!” Ice cubes tumble down the back of my dress. I whirl to face a grinning Jack holding my Moscow Mule.

  “That’s just the beginning,” he drawls.

  I gulp. I may never sleep tonight.

  He hands me back my drink, and I immediately reach for an ice cube in it, but he snags my wrist in a firm grip. “You’ll be wearing this drink if you do.”

  My breath hitches because he’s close and he’s touching me. “May I please have my drink? I won’t ice you back.”

  He tips it up to my lips and I drink, our eyes locked over the cup. I finish the drink, leaving only a few ice cubes that rattle around, tempting me to drop them down his T-shirt. Better yet, down his basketball shorts. Maybe I am a devious trickster.

  He takes the cup with him and heads over to the room service cart, shifting the cart out of the way next to the desk. I join him and lift the silver dome over my melting brownie sundae. I love melting ice cream. I take a spoonful of ice cream with fudge sauce and swallow it in pure bliss.

  I feel him staring and meet his gaze. He doesn’t seem so agitated now. More like intensely interested in what I’m doing. Oh, shoot. I’m being rude. I grab the other spoon and offer it to him. “Want some?”

  He takes a spoonful and swallows it, his sharp blue eyes locked on mine. I glance at his lips, wishing, hoping…oh, there’s a bit of fudge sauce there.

  “You have…” I brush it away and lick it off my finger.

  He shifts away abruptly. “I’m taking the floor, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  A surge of affection rushes through me. “Oh, Jack. Deep down under all that good-time attitude, you have a sense of honor.”

  He tosses his blanket and pillow on the floor. “You can blame my dad for that, always going on about what makes a man a man, honor and integrity foremost. Side effect of his royal upbringing.”

  I step closer. “I’m not kicking you out of bed.”

  He crosses to me and my hopes soar. But then he ruffles my hair, like I’m Sam’s little sister. I scowl and smooth my hair down. “I’m kicking myself out of bed. We’re not keeping this marriage.”

  My shoulders slump in defeat, and I stare at the floor. It’s not like I wanted to be married so much. It’s just I never expected Jack to be so resistant to me. I really wanted to get closer and enjoy the man I heard so many fun things about. He’s the life of the party, except with me. I’m forever Sam’s little sister.

  He chucks me under the chin, lifting my gaze to his. “Hey, that was a good prank. You earned the bed. Not many people can pull anything over on me. Respect.” He offers me a fist bump, which I do because he’s being a good sport about my prank.

  He settles on the floor and turns on the TV, ignoring me.

  I sigh. I earned his respect. That’s it. It’s time to come to grips with the hard truth—

  I’m bad-boy repellant.

  5

  Riley

  The next morning I wake to the sound of
the shower running. I slept soundly. I hope Jack isn’t too worse for wear. I told him I wouldn’t be offended if he went to bunk with one of the groomsmen, but he said he was fine where he was.

  Last night we talked in the dark for a while. I asked him what he does with Sam when they hang out. Jack was clearly annoyed at how Sam basically dumped his guy friends to spend all his time with Alison, but before that they used to play video games, go to bars, and play basketball in the park. Classic bromance. Ha-ha.

  In any case, we called a truce on bathroom shenanigans and he’s in there right now, taking another shower. He sure does like to be clean.

  The bathroom door opens with a billow of steam, and Jack emerges with a white towel wrapped around his waist, black toiletry bag in hand. My mouth goes dry, my entire body heating. I have never seen a more gorgeous man before. That is the honest truth. And this is coming from a woman with a secret folder of hot movie stars on my laptop to admire when the mood strikes. Frankly, he’s out of my league. I’m girl next door, and he really does look like he stepped out of a superhero movie, without the ridiculous costume. Wide rounded shoulders, broad chest, abs that taper down to a V at his narrow waist. Even his legs are muscular and sexy. I would’ve admired his gorgeous self more last night if he hadn’t been glowering at me so intimidatingly.

  He grins, his teeth flashing white against his trimmed dark beard. “Morning, sunshine. I found an alternative for your hideous bridesmaid dress. For you this time.”

  I’m so glad he doesn’t hold a grudge about my prank. I watch as he goes to the closet, where his tux is hanging next to my lavender ruffled dress.

  He glances back at me. “Your dress is dry and no worse for wear, by the way.”

  “Damn,” I say.

  He laughs. A moment later, he holds up his black bow tie and cummerbund. “Two-piece. Cummerbund on top, bow tie on bottom.” He holds them up in position like he’s picturing me in them. “Or maybe the reverse?” He switches them. “You must admit a bikini would be more flattering than purple ruffles.”

  I laugh. “Not sure a bow tie would cover much.”