by Lori Wilde
Relief shown in his eyes, but he shook his head. “Jude—”
“I know that look. You think I’m an impossible case. Next you’ll tell me to be myself, and I can tell you how well that works.”
Before he could respond, Tara and Ben made their grand entrance and the party began in earnest with the wedding planner rushing around shooing everyone to take their seats for the meal.
Tom guided her to their assigned seats just as servers passed through the crowd with the food. Filet mignon was on the menu. Since Jude had planned a wedding the previous year, she knew exactly how much that option cost. Tara and Ben were pulling out all the stops.
The food was delicious, and the toasts that followed were fun and lively. Tom’s speech to his twin and her new husband was heartfelt and humorous and had the crowd alternating between uproarious laughter and dabbing at misty eyes.
He possessed an undeniable presence, and he was a master at holding the audience’s attention. Jude was in danger of developing an insta-crush on the man. He was everything she was not—poised, energetic, and self-confident. An intoxicating cocktail of competent masculinity. From what she’d seen of him so far, he had a charming way of making people feel at ease, and he seemed to relish his role as entertainer.
No wonder she was drawn to him.
And she wasn’t the only one. By nature, Jude was an observer, preferring the sidelines to the spotlight. While Tom worked up the guests with his stories, Jude people-watched and found herself fascinated.
She saw Tara and Ben share enchanted glances, noticed Tom’s parents looking proud and putting their heads together in parental satisfaction, and spied the guest-book blonde giving Tom the side-eye. And later, after the speeches and before the dancing started, the lull when many people headed to the restrooms, she observed Dirk and Tara having a powwow behind the wedding party table. When they both simultaneously looked across the room at her, she felt a current of energy shoot through her body, and Jude knew without a shadow of a doubt that they were talking about her.
What were they saying?
Self-conscious, she made a beeline for the restroom as well. Upon exiting, she found Tom waiting for her.
“Hi,” he greeted her with his rakish grin.
“Hey.” She couldn’t help smiling back.
“How you doing?” He seemed to genuinely want to know.
“Good. I’m having a good time.”
“Wanna dance?”
“What?”
“Simple question. Do you want to dance?”
“We can’t dance yet. The bride and groom aren’t dancing,” she said.
“Do you hear music?”
“Well, yes, they’ve just started playing, but the bride and groom always dance first—”
“A bold woman breaks with tradition. If you want to stop being so nice, stop caring so much what people think.”
“But I can’t ruin your sister’s special day.”
“Look at it as getting the party started. Besides, if it ticks her off—which it won’t—Tara will blame me, not you.”
“Um…”
Without giving her a chance to back out, he led her to the empty dance floor and caught her up in his arms.
“Wait,” he said.
“Did you change your mind?” she asked. “Feels too weird?”
“Not at all. Give me your shoes.”
“Huh?”
“Give me your shoes.”
It seemed an odd request, but perhaps he feared she’d tromp on him with her stilettos. “I won’t step on your toes. I promise. I’m a pretty good dancer.”
“Glad to hear it. But I don’t want you breaking your neck in those things.” He bent and lifted one of her feet, removing her four-inch stiletto.
Aware of a few curious glances, she quickly slipped out of the other shoe, and he stuffed one in each of his jacket pockets.
“Now they’ll all know you’re here to party,” he said wickedly.
His hand was low on her hip and his breath was warm on her forehead. They couldn’t have been more in sync if she’d been standing on top of his feet. She turned her head to the side, afraid of smearing lipstick on his gleaming white shirt, but he bent and pressed his cheek against hers.
It was a tango position, but he managed to dance that way to the band’s sentimental slow number, “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
No one else joined them on the dance floor. All they needed was an overhead floodlight to qualify as the featured attraction.
That made her uncomfortable. This wasn’t her night. This wasn’t her wedding. Guilt did a number on her. She didn’t know these people. She shouldn’t be here. As a private person and an introvert, the sudden attention unnerved her, and Jude stopped dancing.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked, still trying to drag her around the dance floor.
“I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“This.” Unnerved, Jude snatched her shoes from Tom’s pockets, and holding them tightly in her hands, she raced from the room.
Concerned, Tom went after her. Was she having flashbacks to her wedding day that ended so differently from Tara and Ben’s? When he’d invited her as his date, he hadn’t even thought about how attending a wedding might affect her psychologically.
How inconsiderate.
Contrite, he found her in the hallway.
Barefooted, she sidled up to the nearest wall for a place to steady herself while she put her shoes back on. She looked, he noticed, a bit panicky.
“Hey,” he said, surprised to hear his voice come out low, husky, and gentle. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, sure, fine, why do you ask?” Avoiding his gaze, she bent to slip her finger at the back of her shoe to help ease her foot into it.
“You sure?”
“Perfectly. Absolutely. One hundred percent.”
“You ran off the dance floor like your hair was on fire,” he said. “Why?”
“I told you I felt uncomfortable dancing before your sister and her husband. You put the focus on us. That’s not right.”
“Tara and Ben don’t care. I promise.”
“I care.”
“Are you that married to tradition?”
“I’m a rule follower. You got me. That’s why Jaxon dumped me. I’m too rigid.”
That reasoning shocked him. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m uncomfortable upstaging the bride and groom.”
“One, we didn’t upstage them, and two, I’ve always believed we only grow when we’re outside our comfort zones. You did ask me to give you some pointers as to what you’re doing to turn off guys. Being too rigid is one of those things.”
She got her shoes on and finally raised her head to meet his gaze. “Meaning?”
“If you want to be a bold woman, you’re gonna have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.”
“I think I’ve made a big mistake trying to change.” She gave a forlorn shake of her head. “There’s nothing wrong with being nice.”
“Nothing at all.” He stepped closer.
Tom had the feeling that Jude would have backed up if she’d had anywhere to go. “Other people are on the dance floor now.”
He nodded toward the ballroom where, through the open door, he could see his twin and her new husband swaying to “Unchained Melody.”
Jude bit down on her bottom lip.
Tom took another step closer. “Unless your fear is about more than an empty dance floor.”
Her face flushed. From dancing? Or something else? She’d been drinking ginger ale so the flush wasn’t from alcohol.
He held out his hand to her. “May I have this dance?”
Mutely, she nodded and accepted his hand.
Tom led her back to ballroom and the dance floor.
Her hand felt small in his, and when he slipped his hand around her waist, she melted against him, making him feel big, clumsy—and far too aroused.
He lowered his eyelids, but h
e was anything but sleepy. The sooner she hooked up with someone else, the better for his libido.
Whether she admitted it or not, she was looking for a lot more than just a good time, although he couldn’t even give her that. He had taken a forty-day vow of celibacy, and he was determined to win that bet.
Besides, no matter how hard she tried to change her personality, she was a nice woman, sexy black dress and stilettos be damned.
He drew her closer.
She didn’t resist.
Why was he tempting fate? He wanted to win that bar bet more than anything, to prove he was the “master of his domain,” to steal a quote from an old Seinfeld episode called “The Contest,” but she was clouding his thinking, wrecking his self-control, and unwittingly leading him into temptation.
Her firm, lush breasts were crushed against his chest, and his jacket and her dress weren’t armor enough to keep him from imagining her nipples against his bare skin.
Unexpectedly, she slid both hands around his neck and tugged his head down so she could whisper in his ear. “Thank you for tonight. I needed this more than I knew.”
The light whisper of her breath against his ear sent shock waves to his groin, but then she let go of his neck and put distance between them again. She was achingly appealing in her sweetness. No matter how much she claimed to want to let loose and take a walk on the wild side, women like Jude came with strings attached, and he wasn’t ready for that.
Honestly? He didn’t know if he ever would be. No matter how happy his twin and her new husband looked in their married bliss, Tom wasn’t looking for entanglement.
The song ended, and then the lights dimmed for a romantic waltz.
“May I cut in?”
Tom felt a tap on his shoulder and glanced over to see Dirk grinning at him. Narrowing his eyes, he wondered what his buddy was up to. He knew Dirk would do anything to win the bet. Was he trying to stoke Tom’s jealousy and fuel his feelings for Jude? It wouldn’t be the first time he pulled something underhanded.
“Buzz off, Poomph,” Tom growled.
“Oh.” Dirk pointed his fingers as if they were six-shooters at Tom. “I just heard. Jake’s out. So it’s just me and you, amigo.”
Once again, the challenge came down to the two of them. They stared hard at each other. This wasn’t the time or place to discuss the bet.
“I’d like to cut in,” Dirk repeated.
Tom didn’t want to let him.
Jude cleared her throat and inclined her head toward Dirk.
Tom lifted an eyebrow and felt a strange ache in the center of his chest. “Do you want to dance with him?”
She smiled softly and offered a half shrug. “How wild and free can I be if I only dance with one man the entire night?”
“Okay,” Tom said, surprised by the disappointment sinking to the bottom of his shoes. What was that all about? He didn’t care if she danced with other guys, just why did it have to be Dirk? “If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” she said, but he could have sworn he spied uncertainty in her blue eyes.
“Looks like I win.” Dirk smirked and muscled him aside.
Narrowing his eyes, Tom gritted his teeth and felt another tap on his shoulder as Jude accepted Dirk’s arm and waltzed off.
“Hi! I see you’re in need of a partner.”
He turned to see Brenna Butler standing beside him. Brenna flew for the same small airline that Tara did. He’d heard a lot about Brenna from his sister, but they’d just met in person for the first time at last night’s rehearsal dinner. Before the no-sex bar bet and before meeting Jude, Tom would have been lobbying for Brenna’s phone number, but now things were just too complicated for a hookup with this vivacious woman.
“Dance with me.” Brenna took his hand. Now here was a bold woman who knew what she wanted. Casual, free. The type he was usually attracted to.
Normally, he liked the no-strings-attached approach. So why was he missing Jude’s girl-next-door style? His gaze trailed to the dance floor where Dirk’s hand was resting too low on Jude’s back for Tom’s liking.
Frowning, he let Brenna lead him into the waltz.
“I’m really glad I finally got to meet Tara’s sexy brother,” Brenna cooed. “I had no idea you were so hot.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, not really paying attention. Honestly, if Dirk moved his hand one inch lower on Jude’s backside, he was cutting in and putting a stop to this nonsense.
He’s just trying to get under your skin. Don’t take the bait.
Yes, but from what he could tell, Jude was rather naïve and just playing at being an adventuresome woman. She had no idea Dirk was a renowned heartbreaker, and if he set his sights on her, she was in over her head.
Jude didn’t stop with Dirk.
As the hours ticked by, she danced with partner after partner, waving occasionally to Tom as she whirled past him where he’d ended up brooding in the corner nursing a beer. When she wasn’t dancing, she was flitting around, introducing herself to the other guests and engaging in rapt conversations with his relatives.
She really did take an interest in people, Tom noticed, liking that about her.
The final dance was the Chicken Dance, and everyone had uproarious fun. Jude returned for him at last, dragging him onto the dance floor to waggle his body like a chicken to the polka.
Jude beamed, a sheen of perspiration dotting her forehead. She was having a blast. Tom tried to get into the spirit, but then Dirk came wiggling over to bump his hip against Jude’s, and Tom had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something that would put him in an unfavorable light.
The dance ended and the reception was over.
Jude turned to thank Dirk for a lovely evening. Gritting his teeth, he waited while Dirk gave Jude a quick hug and then sent Tom a sly wink.
“Are you ready to go?” Tom asked her.
Jude turned to study him, hair tousled, face flushed, a feral gleam in her eyes.
Whoa. Tom gulped. She was taking this wild woman thing seriously.
“Dirk’s offered to give me a ride home,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m giving her a lift home,” Dirk said as if it was settled.
Tom stepped closer to Jude. “I brought you here, and I’m making sure you get home safely.”
Dirk smiled wolfishly, and Tom knew that’s exactly what his buddy had been angling for. Get and keep Tom in close proximity with Jude, especially when she looked so hot and friendly. Dirk was anxious to win that bet.
Yeah, well, not happening. He would not have sex with Jude under any circumstances. Tom met his buddy’s gaze, shook his head, and mouthed, I’m winning the bet this time.
“She came with me, Poomph; she’s leaving with me.” Tom jutted out his chin.
“Message received.” Dirk’s grin widened and he lifted a hand to wave goodbye to Jude and called over his shoulder on the way out the door, “Have fun, you two, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Tom grunted and took hold of Jude’s elbow.
Jude’s eyes flared even brighter, and he wondered how much champagne she’d downed over the course of the evening. So much for just ginger ale. “You are jealous of him.”
He liked it when she was lippy. Meek, submissive women weren’t for him—but neither was Jude Bailey. “Of a guy named Poomph? You gotta be kidding.”
“If you’re not jealous,” she asked, “why are your earlobes turning red?”
Tom resisted the urge to cover his ears and snorted. “It’s been a long night.”
“Uh-huh.” She laughed all the way to the coat check.
Haha. Funny stuff. He wasn’t jealous of Dirk. But when they stepped outside to find the steps slick from where it had rained while they’d been inside dancing, Tom couldn’t help thinking he sure as heck wasn’t going to let his buddy win that bet.
He had one rule tonight. One rule only.
Hands off Jude.
Too bad she’d already sli
pped her arm through his and was looking up at him as if he were a juicy T-bone steak and she hadn’t eaten in weeks.
5
Tom’s car must have shrunk in the rain.
The restored ’65 Mustang had seemed too small for Tom’s broad shoulders and long legs on the way to the wedding, but now he filled it like an oyster in its shell.
Jude kept her arms pressed to her sides to avoid brushing against him and her knees locked together so she wouldn’t knock against his fingers clutching the manual gear shifter. Taking his arm for him to help her down the steps in her stilettos had been a mistake. The minute she’d touched him, her body got all warm and tingly.
Even if they weren’t actually touching now, he got inside her every time she inhaled, his aftershave sweeping through her head. Actually the scent made her a little dizzy. Or maybe that was the champagne Dirk had brought her.
Dirk had been a really good dancer, but who could think of him when Tom was sitting right beside her, upending her senses and scrambling her brain? And when he’d asked politely for her phone number, she’d given it to him.
Why not? She was on a journey of self-exploration.
“You really didn’t have to take me home.” She was repeating herself, but what else was there to say to a man this handsome?
“Just think of me as your designated Uber.”
“I had two glasses of champagne.”
“I noticed you’d switched from ginger ale.”
“You were watching me?”
“Believe it or not, you’re pretty watchable, Jude.”
Darn it, why did she have to blush so easily? She turned to look out the window to hide her face from him. The streetlights had illuminous halos around them in the damp night air, and they drove the remainder of the way to her place in silence.
He parked his car at the curb in front of her complex. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
“No need.” Jude unbuckled the seat belt and hopped out. She was quick, but Tom was quicker. He met her on her side of the car.
With a dark coat flapping around the satin-striped trousers of his tux, he could pass as a template for an aristocratic playboy. Only his unruly hair didn’t fit the slick image.
