“She was spectacular. Watch your skirt.”
Obligingly lifting her long lavender skirt, she stepped out of the elevator. “That was so sweet when Jonathan kissed her just before he helped her into the car while everyone threw birdseed at them.”
“I’m surprised they weren’t attacked by a flock of hungry sparrows. Where’s your key?”
“Hmmm? Oh, it’s in my purse. Somewhere. I can’t believe my sister is married. Raylene Lawver--that sounds a little strange, doesn’t it?”
He dug into the tiny beaded bag she had carried to the wedding. “So she is taking Jonathan’s name?”
“Oh, sure. Raylene’s very traditional about things like that. Wasn’t she beautiful?”
Chuckling a little, he unlocked her door and opened it for her. “Almost as beautiful as her sister.”
“Mmm. She threw the bouquet right at me, you know. I had to catch it or get clobbered by it. Really made Angie mad--she was hoping to catch it.”
Ushering her inside, Brian closed the door behind them. “Why don’t you just sit down while I make some coffee?”
“I’ve got to get out of these shoes.”
Taking the bouquets, he moved toward the kitchen. “I’ll put these in the refrigerator so they’ll stay fresh. You take off your shoes and get comfortable.”
“Thank you,” she said very politely, sinking onto her couch.
His mouth twisting, he answered gravely. “You’re welcome.”
After stashing the flowers, he rummaged for her coffee and filters. It was a bit late for coffee, but Genae had sipped quite a lot of champagne during the reception. He understood what had made her do so. She’d been uncomfortable in her role as maid of honor, in addition to the continued part as his lover. And it had been an emotional day for her.
Raylene and Jonathan weren’t the only ones whose lives had been changed by their wedding, he mused. Genae had been accustomed to doing things with her twin, having Raylene as her best friend as well as her sister. Now they didn’t even share the same last name. While their feelings for each other hadn’t changed, their relationship would never be quite the same. Brian had seen the wistfulness in Genae’s expression when she’d watched Jonathan’s car drive away from the reception.
He’d been aware of similar feelings, himself. Jonathan had been his best friend since high school. They’d been through a lot together, raised some hell together, and built his business together. Brian had been accustomed to having Jonathan available to him at any moment’s notice. Having Jonathan’s first loyalty be to him.
That, too, had changed tonight.
“Brian?” Genae called from the other room.
He stepped to the doorway. She was sitting on the couch, her bare feet propped on the coffee table, her hair disheveled around her face. Apparently she had pulled the pins out, giving her a rumpled, just-out-of-bed look that made him have to clear his throat before he asked, “What is it?”
She frowned as though trying to remember. And then she nodded, “I just wanted to tell you there’s a plate of brownies on the counter if you’re hungry. They’re covered with aluminum foil. I made them myself--with pecans.”
“Sounds good. I’ll bring us both some.”
“Okay. You want me to make some coffee?”
He grinned. “I’ve got it covered. You just sit tight.”
“Okay.” She sighed and wiggled her bare toes.
Torn between laughing and groaning, Brian turned back to the kitchen, and reminded himself that a true gentleman would never take advantage of a woman who’d had too much champagne.
He knew Genae drank her coffee with cream and sugar. He balanced two filled mugs and the plate of brownies when he rejoined her in the other room.
“You’re pretty good at that. Don’t tell me you ever worked as a waiter,” she said, reaching out to help him set the things on the coffee table.
“Actually I did. The summer I was sixteen, I took a job at a pizza parlor because a girl I liked worked there--and because it ticked my father off that a Littrell was schlepping pizza. He made me quit after a few weeks. To be honest, I was relieved. I hated the job and I had discovered that the girl had the most annoying giggle I’d ever heard. Drove me nuts.”
Genae laughed, and he thought of how different it was with her. He loved hearing her laugh. He would like to hear it more often.
Sitting on the couch beside her, he placed a coffee mug in her hands. “Drink,” he ordered. “But be careful, it’s hot.”
“I’m not really intoxicated, you know,” she muttered into the mug. “Just a little buzzy.”
“I know. But drink the coffee, anyway.” He bit into a brownie. “This is great! You’re a good cook.”
Leaning close to him, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I used a mix. All I did extra was throw in a handful of chopped pecans.”
“They’re still good.” He finished the brownie and washed it down with a couple sips of coffee. And then he sat his cup on the table and leaned back, draping an arm casually across the back of the couch.
“Long day, wasn’t it? The best man gig was more exhausting than I expected.”
She gave him a pat on the knee. “You did very well. And your toast was great. I’m particularly pleased--for my sake and for Raylene’s--that you were able to announce that Donovan was captured in Texas and will be brought to justic for his part in Raye and Jonathan’s kidnapping.”
Apparently the coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. She was still entirely too friendly to him. While he enjoyed it, he’d like to believe her affability was generated by more than champagne. Maybe food would help.
He reached for another brownie, broke off a corner and held it to her lips. “I thought you would like that. It definitely means we can ease off on the security a little. Not entirely, of course, since some crackpot could still try to emulate his scheme, but that’s unlikely. Here,” he added before she could attempt to argue that she no longer needed any sort of security. “Try some. It really is good. And you didn’t eat anything at the reception.”
“I was too nervous,” she admitted before taking the tidbit he offered her.
As a result of the feel of her lips against his fingertips, he had to clear his throat again before he asked, “Why were you nervous?”
She swallowed, then replied, “Lots of reasons.I was afraid I would trip over this stupid long skirt and fall flat on my face. I was worried about saying something stupid and embarrassing Raylene on her wedding day. I knew she wanted me to sing, and I was a little concerned about forgetting the words, since I didn’t know the songs very well.”
“You never told me you had such a gorgeous voice.”
She arched an eyebrow over the rim of her coffee mug. “The subject never came up.”
“I loved hearing you sing. You were wonderful.”
“Thanks. But, um, how much champagne did you have?”
He smile. “The champagne had nothing to do with my appreciation of your voice. Have you ever performed professionally?”
“Thinking of signing me as the second client for your music production company?”
“Jonathan was only joking about that. He knows I’m not really interested in starting a music production company.”
“All that hobnobbing in Hollywood, and you aren’t interested in the entertainment business?”
“I’ll stick with science and technology investments for now. You didn’t answer my question. Have you ever considered performing professionally?”
She shrugged and looked away from him. “I’m sure every young girl dreams at some point of being a famous singer. I did my share of posturing in front of my bedroom mirror with a hairbrush for my microphone. But I grew up.”
“You seemed to enjoy singing.”
“I like to sing occasionally,” she agreed offhandedly, setting her cup on the table beside his. “Not necessarily the songs Raylene selected, of course.”
“Oh?” He broke another bite of brownie off and offered it to her. “What type of songs do you prefer?”
Distracted by the conversation, she took the brownie. Again there was that pleasant fisson of sensation when her lips moved against his fingers. He watched her swallow before she answered vaguely, “A little of this, a little of that. Do you sing?”
“Teenage boys don’t perform with hairbrushes. We stood in the shower with a bar of soap pretending to be rockstars. In high school choir, I sang tenor--got a standing ovation for a few solos, actually.”
She’d tensed a bit when he’d pressed her about her singing. He was glad to see his self-mockery relaxed her again. “I bet that was something,” she murmured.
“I made musical history.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, letting his fingers linger to stroke her cheek. “I hope you’ll sing for me again sometime.”
A wave of pink stained the delicate skin he touched. “Well...you never know,” she murmured. “Um, do you want some more coffee or...or something?”
His fingers were tangled in her hair now, his other hand rising to her cheek. “I definitely want something,” he said, his mouth close to hers. “But not coffee.”
He heard her breath catch. Wide and wary, her eyes met his. He was glad to see that they were clear, no longer clouded by the champagne or residual wedding sentimentality. She knew exactly what he meant, and she was fully aware of what was happening--or could very easily happen--between them. She knew, as well, that he was leaving the next move up to her. He sat very still, their gazes locked, his mouth an inch above hers, just waiting for her signal.
He groaned in satisfaction when she lifted her mouth to his.
Genae wasn’t thinking clearly, but she couldn’t blame it on the champagne. The effects of that had mostly worn off by now. This lapse was due entirely to having Brian’s arms around her, his mouth on hers.
Common sense told her to put a stop to this right now, to pull herself out of his arms and to send him on his way before things could get out of control. And she would do just that, she promised herself. In a minute.
Her fingers slid into his hair. He kissed her until she could hadly breathe, and then he turned his attention to other parts of her, kissing her temple, her cheeks, the hollow behind her ear, and then trailing his lips down her neck to her bare shoulder.
He lightly nipped the skin there and she shivered. He was so very good at this.
He kissed the hollow of her throat, where her pulse raced so rapidly that he couldn’t possibly have misinterpreted her excitement. She knew it would be a waste of energy to pretend she wasn’t attracted to him, or that she didn’t respond to his kisses and touches. Only a fool would have believed her will-power wasn’t very shaky when it came to him--and Brian was no fool.
Emotions that had been simmering inside her for hours erupted to the surface, melting her control. All day she had been entirely too aware of him. She had felt his eyes on her as she’d walked up the aisle ahead of her sister, and all during the ceremony. He’d watched her as she sang at the reception and as she mingled with the other guests. And when they had danced, he’d held her within the bounds of propriety, but close enough to remind her how it felt to be pressed fully against him.
It felt fabulous.
His mouth was on hers again, moving more urgently this time. His hands raced over her, stimulating every nerve ending, leaving her quivering and aching for more.
They weren’t in his car this time. No one was watching them, and there was little chance of anyone interrupting them. Brian was making his feelings clear about how he would like the evening to end. It was up to her to decide if she wanted to spend the rest of the night alone.
Her hands cupping his face, she drew back to look at him. His face was a bit flushed, his soft hair tumbled from her hands, his eyes glittering and heavy-lidded. She felt the tension in him, the faint quiver of muscles held tightly under control. She was sprawled across his lap and the hardness against her thigh told her how strongly he, too, had been affected by their kisses.
There was no doubt in her mind that he wanted her, at least for tonight. And there was no question that she wanted him, either--or that she had wanted him for longer than she cared to admit.
She wasn’t sure she had the strength to send him away this time. Not tonight. But if she was very careful, she should be able to give into impulse just this once without having her life forever changed or her heart broken. It was simply a matter of keeping in mind that she and Brian were together for only a little while. That there was no future for them. Only tonight.
Tonight would have to be enough.
Still framing his face with her hands, she leaned forward to kiss him lightly. “Have I ever shown you the rest of my apartment?” she asked.
“No,” his voice was husky. “I don’t believe you have.”
“There’s not much,” she said, dropping another kiss on his firm chin. “Only a small bedroom. But the bed is big enough for two.”
Emotion flared in his eyes, but he remained still, speaking doubtfully. “You’re asking me to stay?”
“Yes. If you want to.”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“Then stay,” she said simply.
“We need to talk.”
She kissed him again, letting her tongue sweep his lips, “We’ve talked enough tonight,” she murmured against his mouth.
His arms tightened spasmodically around her. “I hope this isn’t the champagne speaking.”
“It’s not the champagne,” she assured him, wriggling out of his arms. She rose and held out her hand to him, “Let me show you my bedroom, Brian.”
Holding her gaze with his, he rose very slowly and took her hand.
Genae soon found out that her imagination had been woefully inadequate. She had known he would look gorgeous beneath his clothes, but actually seeing him without a shirt made her breath lodge hard in her throat. Running her hands over his smooth, sleekly muscled chest, she reveled in his warmth. He still wore a small bandage on his left forearm, mostly, she suspected, to protect the raw skin from rubbing against his clothes. Even that looked enticing on him.
She placed her mouth against his throat, nibbling a line of kisses from his jaw to his shoulder and down to his chest. She felt the rapid rhythm of his pulse, and heard the increase in his breathing, and she smiled. It was nice to know she could affect him with her touch--after all, turnabout was fair play.
His hands moved behind her, and she felt cool air on her back as her long zipper parted. Moments later, the dress fell to her feet in a swath of glittery lavender fabric. She stepped out of it, leaving her clad in only a strapless bra and a lace panties.
She’d bought the sexy undergarments only the day before, even though she’d had other, more practical choices that would have sufficed. She supposed she’d suspected even then that Brian might be seeing them.
She was glad now that she’d gone to the extra effort. Brian’s eyes all but glazed over when he stepped back to look at her. Talk about a boost to her ego...
He moved quickly. One minute she was standing in front of him, and the next she was lying beneath him on her bed.
Her breathless laugh was smothered beneath his mouth. Her arms went around him and her bare legs tangled with his still-clothed ones. She was going to have to get those tuxedo pants off him--in a minute, she thought as she arched into his roaming hands.
Scraps of lace flew, baring her completely to his leisurely exploration. She couldn’t be still as he touched her with his fingertips, his lips and the tip of his tongue. She had to touch him, to move against him, to press her lips against whatever part of him she could reach.
Her hands finally found the fastenings of his pants and he cooperated as she unsnapped them, and then the pants joined her clothes on the bedroom floor. When the soft black cotton of his boxers followed, she thought she might very well hyperventilate.
She’d known from the first day Brian had strolled into her shop that she’d never met a man like this before. She’d been aware even then that he could be dangerous.
But this was no time for fear, and too late for hesitation. She pushed her doubts to the back of her mind and melted into him.
Passion flowed between them, so heated she wouldn’t have been surprised if steam rose from their dampened bodies. Their breathing was labored, their movements frantic.
Genae had never seen Brian when he wasn’t in control--not even when he lost his temper. He wasn’t in control now. While his actions were still skillful enough to drive her to the point of insanity, there was nothing calculated or premeditated about them.
For once, they weren’t putting on an act or performing for an audience or following a predetermined plan. They were just Brian and Genae, letting instinct and emotion guide.
Nothing had ever felt more right to her.
She pulled him to her with eager hands, her mouth fusing with his as he settled between her invitingly upraised knees. They fit together perfectly--but she shouldn’t read too much into that, she reminded herself, trying to retain a modicum of perspective even at that emotional moment. And then she couldn’t think at all. Didn’t even try.
She would have plenty of time to think later.
“Genae,” he gasped into her ear, body stiffening against hers.
Just hearing her name on his lips sent her over the edge. She was unable to speak coherently enough to return his name, but it echoed in her mind as she floated on waves of sensation.
Brian was the first to be able to move again, though she couldn’t have said how much time had passed before he did so. With a slight groan, he shifted to roll onto his back beside her, relieving her of his weight. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d stayed a while longer.
Scooping her against him with his right arm, he settled her into his shoulder, his other hand stroking her side, soothing her as she tried to steady her pulse and her breathing. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble.
“I’m fine.” she managed to say, though her tongue still felt thick and unresponsive. “Your arm?”
It seemed to take him a moment to understand the question, and then he replied, “Feels great. Just like the rest of me.”
She didn’t quite believe that he felt no discomfort at all after using his arm so strenuously, but she wouldn’t press him about it. She supposed he would tell her if he’d done any lasting damage.
Maybe.
The extremely eventful day seemed to be catching up with her. She was suddenly so tired she could barely hold her eyes open. A yawn escaped her before she could stop it.
Brian laughed softly and dropped a kiss on her temple. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured. “Don’t feel obligated to stay awake for my benefit.”
“Mmm.” she snuggled her face into the pillow when he slid out from beneath her.
She felt him return to the bed a short while later, but she didn’t rouse enough to try to speak to him. She needed to escape into sleep just then--away from the emotions left over from her sister’s wedding and the tumultuous romp she had just shared with Brian.
She could handle everything, she assured herself. She could move on with her life, get back to the way things had been, emerge unscathed from the events of the past few weeks.
But first she needed some rest. She fell asleep with her cheek on his shoulder and his arms around her. Just this one night, was her last coherent thought before blessed oblivion claimed her.
Even still half-asleep, Genae sensed that there was a reason she didn’t want to open her eyes Sunday morning. She burrowed deeper into the covers, trying to cling to sleep a little while longer, but something felt wrong. She always slept in an oversized t-shirt and panties, never naked. She wasn’t wearing a stitch now.
With a low moan, she finally opened her eyes, squinting against the sunlight filtering through the curtains. She was alone in her bed, thank goodness. She hadn’t heard Brian leave, but he must have slipped out sometime during the night. Whether it was to give her some privacy this morning, or because he hadn’t wanted to be stranded there with nothing to wear but a rumpled tuxedo, she couldn’t have said.
It chagrined her to realize that her bed felt suddenly big and empty without him in it. After only one night. It was just as well that there wouldn’t be any more.
She didn’t bother berating herself for her actions last night. She thought of that decision with a sense of inevitability. They had been moving toward that step ever since she had agreed to pose temporarily as his love interest. Call it curiosity or propinquity or at monumental lapse in judgement, but she had known it would happen eventually. Just as she’d known that once they had satisfied their curiosity--or whatever it was--they would have to move on in separate directions.
She didn’t spend a long time brushing her teeth, showering or pulling her damp hair back into a ponytail, but she didn’t waste a minute. She used that time to pull her composure together, lecture herself about keeping her feelings under control, and rehearse the things she would say next time she spoke to Brian.
She would be calm, collected and courteous as she explained to him that last night had been very nice, but it wasn’t going to happen again. Their lives were too different--they were too different--to maintain even a casual relationship. And as for anything else--that was entirely out of the question.
Not that she really believed he was considering anything permanent. She knew about that infamous list of his, and she was well aware that she met very few of his qualifications.
Dressed in a short t-shirt and long-slung jeans, her feet bare, she headed for the kitchen.
The sight of Brian standing in the sunlight streaming through the window over the kitchen sink drove most of her carefully practiced words from her mind. The sizzling smile he gave her effectively erased the rest of them.
