He wraps the bow tie around my neck, and his clean masculine scent washes over me. “There you go. You get to pick what the cummerbund covers.”
Our gazes collide and a shimmering tension stretches between us. I’m suddenly so intensely aware of him—his dark hair, wet from the shower and slicked back, the intense blue of his eyes, his clean scent, the heat of his body so close to mine. My body hums with awareness, every nerve ending alert and aware. It’s real. This is not just me. There’s something more here than just respect.
He slowly leans in, his eyes half hooded as his gaze drops to my lips. My pulse races, my breath stalls, all of me vibrating in anticipation. It’s finally happening. I lift my head and close my eyes.
And then nothing.
I open my eyes to see his back. He’s halfway across the room, heading for his suitcase.
“Bathroom’s all yours,” he mutters.
I sigh and take off his bow tie, setting it on the dresser. Who knew he’d have such a strong sense of honor? I’ll never get him to kiss me again. We’re not going to be alone after this. We have the wedding, my birthday dinner with my parents, and then it’ll all be over. I tell myself it’s for the best. I’m reading too much into the relationship. He’s just not ready for anything real. At least, not with me. I need to be okay with that. No heavy expectations.
I force a casual tone. “Did you sleep okay on the floor?”
“Yeah, no problem.” He pulls an outfit from his suitcase and tosses it on the bed. Another T-shirt and basketball shorts. Guess the groomsmen don’t need to spend hours getting ready like the bridal party. The wedding is at one, and I have to report to the bridal suite upstairs by ten, an hour from now.
I step closer, checking for bags under his eyes. He actually does look fine. “Did you camp a lot as a kid? Used to roughing it?”
He chuckles. “Camping? No. But I grew up with five brothers. It was crowded, especially if friends were over. I can sleep pretty much anywhere. Only problem is I’m a light sleeper, so I wake up with any unusual sounds. Fortunately, you’re not a snorer.”
I find myself gazing into his warm twinkling blue eyes far too long and force myself to look away. I’m drawn to him even more when he’s being his usual good-humored self. I ease back a step. I’m not going to throw myself at him. He’d probably bolt from the room. “Okay, good. So, I have to get to the bridal suite soon. I guess I’ll see you at the wedding.” I head into the bathroom.
“See ya, wife.”
I nearly stumble. “Ha! Yeah.”
I gently close the door behind me and lean against it. One week left with Jack.
I shake my head at myself. The whole point of being with Jack was to have a little fun. And I did. I’ve enjoyed my time with him, even if it’s been completely platonic. I shouldn’t want more. He’s not looking for a relationship. My parents disapprove. How many times do I have to remind myself to protect my heart? I can’t let myself fall for him.
When I emerge from the bathroom, he’s gone. There’s a to-go cup of coffee and a small white bag on the desk. I walk over to it and find a note scrawled on the hotel stationery: Breakfast of accounting superheroes. At least he didn’t call me Corporate Calculator.
I peek in the bag—chocolate croissant, my favorite breakfast food when I’m traveling. I lift the lid of the to-go cup. Another win, a latte. He must’ve asked Sam what I like. My heart squeezes at the thoughtful gesture. I expected pranks from Jack, lots of laughs, heavy on the partying, but I never expected sweetness.
The wedding was glorious. Thank God. After all that planning, two hundred of Sam and Alison’s closest family and friends witnessed the beautiful event at St. Mary’s Catholic Church. It’s the one we went to growing up. Alison liked it better than the church she went to in Pennsylvania, so they decided to have the wedding here in New Jersey.
Now we’re at the reception, where I’ve enjoyed two glasses of champagne and a few hors d’oeuvres. I’m sitting at the head table next to Jack, watching the bride and groom on the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife. They shift, and I catch their expressions as they gaze into each other’s eyes. They look enthralled. My throat catches, and I blink away tears. I managed not to cry at the ceremony, and I’m not going to cry here either, even though they’re so in love it’s making me happy-sad. Happy for them and sad for me because I have never had a man look at me like that before, like I’m his world. And I know I didn’t feel that way about Charlie, even though we casually talked about the future like we’d be married with a house and kids. The whole deal.
God, I want that. What am I doing messing around with Jack? I don’t need fun in my life. I need a man who’s enthralled with me, whom I’m enthralled with back. Who’s so overcome with passion that he can’t resist me. Jack resists. Though there are moments…
I give him a sideways look. He’s on his phone. I glance at the screen and see he’s reviewing a best man speech he prepared. It starts with: I rescued Sam from a bar fight, and he invited me over to play Grand Theft Auto. Okay, there was no bar fight.
He glances at me. “Don’t read it.”
“Nice opening.”
“Thought it was more interesting than Sam moved in across the hall.”
“He’ll like it.”
A short while later, the bride and groom take their seats. The wedding planner brings Jack a microphone, announcing it’s time for the best man’s speech. He stands and taps his fork against his glass for attention.
The room goes quiet. I glance at Sam, and he’s already smiling in anticipation.
Jack smiles at him and turns to the room. “So the way I first met Sam—I rescued him from a bar fight, and he invited me to play Grand Theft Auto.”
A few people laugh; others look surprised.
“Okay, there was no bar fight.” Jack gestures to Sam. “Look at this guy. Nobody’s gonna mess with him.”
Sam makes a show of flexing his biceps, which aren’t all that impressive. He’s lanky, just shy of geek. Alison laughs.
Jack goes on. “Sam and I just clicked. And you might think, what do we have in common? He’s got some fancy degree, working at a top tech company as lead developer for websites. Basically, a code geek. Sam’s words.” He smiles. “I work construction. What it comes down to is, Sam loves my pranks, even when he’s the butt of them. He’s got a great sense of humor, kills at video games, is a smooth operator on the bar pickup scene—” he wiggles his hand in a so-so gesture that has everyone laughing. Jack grins. “—and he’s a diehard Yankees fan.” He leans close to the mike. “I’ve just described the perfect bromance. Eight years. A match made in heaven.”
Everyone’s laughing.
Jack waits for the laughter to die down and looks right at Alison. “But then he met his true match. Alison, he is nuts about you. Day one, and it was all over. Bam. He was a goner.” He turns back to the crowd. “Thankfully for all of us, she felt the same way. Let’s have a toast.” He lifts his champagne glass and turns to the happy couple. “I wish you all the best as you start your new life together, even if you desert us for the ’burbs and a bunch of mini-Sams and Alisons.”
Alison cups her hands over her mouth. “Brooklyn forever!” She does own a restaurant there.
Jack grins, his eyes warm. “Congratulations, Sam and Alison.”
Everyone congratulates them and drinks to that.
Jack takes his seat next to me and lets out a breath. I give his arm a squeeze. Never easy to do public speaking, even if you’re an extrovert.
Sam stands and clinks his glass for attention. The wedding planner rushes over with the microphone. “I just want to say thank you, Jack, for that disgustingly sappy bromance speech, and now, for my own disgustingly sappy speech.” He pauses and looks to me, a small smile on his face. I tense. Oh no! He’s going to talk about us as a couple. He turns back to Jack. “I know I wasn’t too happy when I first heard about you and Riley, and I’ll still kill you if you break her heart, but as lon
g as you treat her well, I’m happy for you both. My little sis and my honorary brother.” Sam’s voice chokes, and Jack immediately heads over to him, giving him a bro hug.
Oh, God. Now I’m going to cry for real. Sam’s going to be so upset when he hears Jack and I broke up. Will he blame Jack? Will it cause a permanent rift between them?
Jack heads back to his seat, his jaw tight. He sits next to me and whispers in my ear, “He’s gonna kill me when he finds out we split up.”
I whisper back, “I’ll make sure he knows it’s mutual. Leave it to me.”
He stares at the table. “I’ve got no one to blame but myself.”
“No!” I whisper fiercely. “Blame tequila.”
He shoots me a look that says, Seriously?
I feel awful. I’m the one who wanted to get closer to Jack. I knew Sam wouldn’t stand for it under normal circumstances. I took advantage of Las Vegas craziness, and for what? A temporary fake relationship where he never touches me. And now, even though we tried to protect Sam, I think he’s going to be hurt anyway. I should’ve stayed in my lane. Jack and I were never meant to be together. We’re too different, and we want different things.
I stew in guilt and remorse all through the toasts, dinner, and my obligatory dance with the groomsman matched up with me. Then I return to my seat and stew some more.
Jack drops into his seat next to me. “One last prank to see them off.”
I turn to him. “You can’t prank them on their wedding day.”
“Watch me.”
He heads over to Sam, where he’s standing with Alison, talking to some of our relatives. He shakes Sam’s hand like he’s congratulating him; then he turns and does the same with Alison. They talk for a few minutes, and he returns to my side just as a slow ballad comes on.
His big calloused hand lands on my bare shoulder, giving it a squeeze. It warms instantly. “Come on, let’s dance. All the shackled couples are flocking to the dance floor. They’ll expect us to.”
I stand. It’s not the most romantic invitation to dance, but he’s been such a good sport about everything that I really can’t complain. I take his hand, and he leads me to the dance floor.
His arm bands around my waist when we get there, pulling me close, his other hand holding mine. Heat radiates through his white dress shirt. He left the tux jacket hanging over the back of his chair. I rest my free hand on his shoulder, suddenly hot and hyperaware of every nerve ending. I didn’t expect a formal waltz, but I also didn’t expect he’d hold me so close. He leads me in a slow sway that might as well just be us standing here with our arms wrapped around each other. I breathe in his spicy cologne and masculine scent, desire unfurling low in my belly.
More couples join in, including my parents. I can’t be feeling lusty now. This is bad.
I attempt conversation. “What’s your prank?”
He dips his head, whispering in my ear, and I suppress a shiver. “You’ll find out with everyone else.”
“Is it in good taste?”
He grins. “Whatta ya think?”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
He gives me a slow sexy smile. “What would give you a wicked feeling?”
That smile gives me the confidence to flirt. “Being naughty like you.”
“Oh yeah?”
I nod, my cheeks heating.
His brows arch in a skeptical look. I wish I had more skill at flirting. I’m so out of my element.
He leans down to my ear, his voice a dark rumble. “So you wanna be naughty, huh? What gets you off?”
I glance around. At least my parents aren’t close by. In fact, I don’t see them anymore. Maybe they went off to take care of some wedding stuff. Still, there’s lots of couples dancing around us. Does he want me to talk dirty right here on the dance floor? Do I even know how to talk dirty? I need to Google some good lines.
“Nothing to say?” he teases.
“Can I get back to you on that?” I whisper.
He speaks close to my ear. “Your dress has a nice fluffy bottom half, real easy to lift if a guy wanted to get his head between your legs.”
My knees buckle. “What? Shh!”
He chuckles. “I can’t get louder and shh at the same time.”
Adrenaline races through me. This is just the kind of fun excitement I was hoping for, and what he described is technically not a hookup. Right? Right.
“Where? When?” I blurt.
“There’s an empty room down the hall.” He pulls back enough to watch me closely, his expression completely neutral. “You into it?”
Doubt seeps in. He doesn’t look as excited as I am. Is this the revenge he promised for my prank? Like I’ll get there and someone will jump out at me and make me scream bloody murder? Or maybe he’ll lock me in the room. He’s capable of anything. He once screwed his kitchen table and chairs to the ceiling and invited Sam over for dinner. Sam said Jack had to repair the ceiling after too. All that just for the gotcha!
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
I swallow hard, embarrassed, but needing to know. I speak to his chest. “Do you, uh…”
He lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “What?”
Heat rushes through me, lust and embarrassment battling it out. I’m not sure which will win. “I was just wondering if you, you know, actually think about me like that, because last night and this morning…” I clear my throat, my cheeks burning hot. “Thank you for breakfast, by the way.”
He drops his hold on my chin. “You’re welcome, and what’re you trying to say?” I can’t help but notice he looks utterly confused and not the least turned on.
I’m messing it up. Or maybe he’s messing with me. Yes, that makes the most sense. This is definitely him trying to lure me into a prank. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have made a move on me in the hotel room when there was ample opportunity to do so? He hasn’t even tried to kiss me. I was the one who initiated our only real kiss.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Never mind.” No way am I going to walk out of here and wait in the room across the hall, leaving myself open to whatever prank he has in store for me there. He’s messing with me, and I don’t have to fall for it.
He holds me by the hips, his big hands firm and strong as he studies me. My traitorous body heats, softening at his touch despite my best efforts to remain unmoved by him. I hold his gaze this time, willing myself to play it cool.
He flashes a smile, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. “Now I’m intrigued. You’re blushing red as a fire truck.”
So much for playing it cool.
“I’m just overheated from all the people crammed onto the dance floor.”
He glances around, and I suddenly realize that, somewhere in the middle of my deep thoughts on whether or not he was pranking me, he guided us to the edge of the dance floor, where there’s ample space around us. Relative privacy actually.
He smirks. “Not used to dirty talk from good old Charlie?”
Does ‘I’m tired, honey, you be on top’ count?
I’m saved from giving into the wild hope that he’ll spice up my admittedly dull sex life when the song changes to a fast beat. The dance floor clears of almost everyone, but Jack doesn’t miss a beat, taking my hand, pulling me to the center of the floor, and spinning me in a circle. He turns me the other way and pulls me back flush against him. I’m breathless, pressed against his hard muscular frame, enthralled once again by the possibilities of exploring more with him. There’s no one here but him and me, the rest of the room fading away.
Suddenly we’re surrounded by the bridal party dancing all around us. Sam joins us, too, jumping in with Alison. We’re swept up in the dance. Jack looks happy to be joined by everyone, and I have my answer. He was messing with me before, luring me to a room with a hint of sexual promise. I won’t rise to the bait again.
Several dances later, the DJ asks everyone to stand back so the bride and groom can toss the bouquet and garter to t
he next lucky single people to be married. A chair is brought over for the bride. She takes a seat and crosses her legs.
Sam kneels by her side and shimmies up her dress to reveal the garter. Except there isn’t one.
Alison pops up and points for Sam to take a seat. She kneels down and shimmies up his dress pants to reveal a blue garter.
Everyone laughs as she pulls it off and stands with it triumphantly. She turns and slingshots it at Jack’s head, who’s standing off to the side. He ducks and bats it with one hand to a single guy standing on the dance floor.
Good prank. I step farther to the side so there’s no chance I’ll catch the bouquet.
No worries.
Alison throws it and it bounces right back to her on stretchy string.
My head swivels to Jack, and we both crack up. I join him. “You set that up for them, didn’t you? With the fake-out garter and the stretchy string.”
“Yeah, but let’s let everyone believe it was their clever prank. It’s my parting gift to them.” He drops an arm over my shoulders. “We did it, Ry. He’s going off on his honeymoon happy with no hard feelings for me. I think we made the best of a tough situation.”
I lean against his side, soaking in the rare feeling of being close to him. “One more event to get through. My birthday dinner with my parents. You can still take a pass.”
“I told ya, I’m there. I’m not gonna leave you high and dry, trying to explain my absence.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “By the time this is all over, I’ll be a pro at the whole serious boyfriend thing.”
My hopes rise before he adds, “Not that it does me any good. I went from die-hard bachelor to husband, really.”
I laugh a little. “Yeah, soon to be die-hard bachelor again.”
He blows out a breath of obvious relief. “Right. Finally, everything will go back to normal.”
Now why does that sound like such a terrible prospect? I should be glad to go back to my normal life where everything makes sense, where I don’t have to pretend. I know my place, and it’s not with Jack.
Rogue Rascal (The Rourkes, Book 9) Page 7
