I started to laugh—I fell on the bed, I was laughing so hard. I had tears streaming down my face. I heard him stomp out of the room. I couldn’t stop laughing. Alpha male! If I didn’t love my big brother to death, I would tell Nadine in a heartbeat. When I composed myself, I found him sitting in the living room, the personification of embarrassment. I placed the ring box in his hand as I bent down and kissed his cheek.
“I’m sorry, Jer, your face was just too funny.”
“Well, you know, you’re young, and it’s natural.” He shrugged.
“What did you want this for?” I asked as I stood back.
“Oh, I’ll take care of it for you.” He put it in his pocket. “You ready?”
I frowned at him for a moment, and then shrugging, I nodded. “Yep, let’s head home.”
Christmas passed swiftly, as it always did. Our home was filled with family, food and laughter. My nephews and nieces took all my attention; Jeremy and Rachel had four children, two of each, and each one was a mini monster. Mom, dad and I were exhausted running after them—I don’t know how my brother and Rachel were still standing.
“Aunt Jem, why do you have to go?” I currently had Ollie wrapped around my ankle, trying to get me to stay, while his twin sister, Livvy, was standing on her brother, hanging onto my arm.
“Oliver! Olivia! Let your aunt go immediately!” Rachel scolded. “Oh, my goodness, Olivia Jane, are you standing on your brother? Get off him, he is not a step!”
Six days, I had heard every variation of this: your brother is not a step, he is not a climbing frame, he is not a footstool, he is not a stepping stone, he is not a door stopper. Livvy didn’t take any notice; if she couldn’t reach, she used Ollie, and if she couldn’t get across, she used Ollie. Ollie didn’t care; if he could help his sister, he did.
They were adorable. They were also breaking my heart. Two little round faces, framed with wild brown curls, staring at me. Pleading.
“Rachel…” I raised begging eyes to my sister-in-law. She laughed at me.
“Jacob, come get the twins, your aunt needs to leave,” Rachel hollered. A few minutes later, Jacob came to the door. At seven, he was already a mini Jeremy. He leaned forward, grabbed both siblings by the back of the neck, and hauled them up.
“Bye, Aunt Jem,” he called as he dragged away the protesting duo, which quickly turned to excited squeals when he told them he was taking them out to the backyard for snowball fights. Two minutes later, the last sibling, Jessica, dashed past me as she ran out to join in the fun.
“That’s how it’s done,” I said in wonder as Rachel winced at a particularly loud wail.
“He is very adept at controlling Livvy,” Rachel admitted.
Jeremy came back in from loading the truck. “Where’d all the kids go?” He cocked his head. “Ah, you got Jacob?” He winked at his wife.
“You think I’m stupid?” Rachel laughed as she gave me a hug. “You’ll be okay?” Concern etched her face as she considered me.
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Being home was the best thing,” I answered, returning her hug.
“Course it was,” my dad said as he came up the driveway. “You got it?” he asked Jeremy.
“Oh yeah,” Jeremy said, then fished in his pocket. He withdrew the ring box.
“I thought you returned it to him?” I asked, frowning.
“I’m not giving it back to the prick.” Jeremy grunted as he tossed my diamond engagement ring onto the ground, and then my dad brought a mallet straight onto it and smashed it into smithereens.
“Oh shit,” I whispered.
“Have a Happy New Year when it comes, angel, and enjoy your gala tonight with your friends.” Dad kissed my cheek and went into the house whistling.
I stared at the diamond dust on the pathway and the warped golden band. I looked at Jeremy.
“What?” he said.
“Um…I wasn’t expecting that,” I admitted.
“Happy New Year, sis, c’mon let’s go.” He gave Rachel a kiss and then headed for the truck.
I turned to look at Rachel. She smiled at me and pulled me into another hug. “You think your brother was letting him get away with that?” she whispered into my ear.
“I didn’t think he would destroy it,” I whispered back.
“You’ve let Denver soften you too much.” She squeezed me.
I heard my mom approach, and she smiled at me as she handed me another pie. “Mom, I don’t need another pie,” I protested.
“Of course you do. You’ve lost far too much weight.” Her eyes flicked to the destroyed ring, and she smirked. “New year, new you. New you means a healthier weight, please, Jemma. Men want meat on bones; nobody wants prime rib with no meat.”
“Mom…” I gave up, there was no point. “I love you. Thank you.” She kissed my cheek, and I got into the truck. Jeremy eyed the pie.
“She’ll never be happy until you’re the size of a barn.” He started to laugh.
“I don’t think I can eat another pie,” I groaned. “Seriously, would it kill her to put salad on a plate?”
“Don’t use curse words in my truck, woman.” My brother was still laughing. “Who eats salad at Christmas? Freeze the pie—trust me, you’ll want it in February.”
“I know.” I looked at the pie ruefully. “Truth is, I’ll want this by tomorrow.”
We were both laughing as he drove me back to Denver.
I looked in the mirror as I assessed my outfit. I was nervous. I hadn’t been to anything fancy for so long I think I had forgotten. My dress was floor length, a simple A-line. The bodice was fitted to my slim straight waist, giving me a curve that I didn’t really possess. I didn’t have much of a bust, so a sweetheart neckline accentuated more than I had, and the dress had a tiny capped sleeve that covered my shoulders in a flattering way. The skirt had a deep slit that, due to the slightly fuller skirt, wasn’t noticeable until I walked. It was…sexy. It was a rich black with absolutely no decoration. In fact, it could be considered plain. Except…it wasn’t. My hair was pinned up in a chignon with some decorative pins scattered throughout, and my diamond studs and a diamond pendant completed my look.
My makeup was minimal. I had gone for neutral makeup, winged eyeliner, with lots of extra black mascara, and slightly deeper than natural pink lipstick. I had a thick black pashmina, which was probably a fashion faux pas, but I didn’t care—it was freezing outside. I wasn’t going to be a human popsicle for a gala. Richard and Karen had a car coming to pick me up, which made me strangely nervous. This was so strange and so alien to me. I liked jammie days. I didn’t like being dressed up.
My phone buzzed telling me that the car was outside. Taking a deep breath, I picked up my clutch bag and left my apartment. The driver was at the entranceway with an umbrella. He glanced at my feet and then at me. My shoes were stilettos, strappy, toeless and not suited to winter.
“I can carry you?” he offered.
“I can manage,” I blurted. “But wow, thank you.” He grinned. Lifting my dress high, I darted to the car. I was very non-graceful as I got in, but my hair didn’t move, my dress was fine and my toes only slightly cold. He handed me a warm towel.
“For your feet.”
“Wow.”
“Not my first rodeo, ma’am.” Another grin and he shut me in.
“Jesus, if this is how the other half live, I’m moving,” I muttered. I didn’t realise the speaker was on until I heard him laughing.
“We’re picking up the rest of your party before the destination,” he informed me as we drove away from my building.
“Yes, okay.”
“Shouldn’t be too long, traffic’s light,” the driver added.
Richard looked handsome in a black tux, and Karen breathtaking in a deep burgundy dinner gown.
“You look beautiful, Jemma,” Karen said as she greeted me.
“Thank you.” I blushed, and we exchanged pleasantries and Christmas stories on the way to the gala.
Once
we were there, our driver once again was wonderful; he led Richard and Karen out first and then came back for me. Thankfully, I exited with more grace than I entered.
“Just for the record, you do look simply stunning,” he commented as he left me at the door.
I looked after him as he tipped his hat and went back to the car.
“You okay?” Richard asked me.
“Yes.” I smiled a goofy smile. “I’m just fine, thank you.”
I’d told Richard what my brother and dad had done to the ring. He had laughed and said it served him right. I asked if I could get in trouble, and he said no, it wasn’t a family heirloom. Tim was just being a cheap bastard and didn’t want to buy a new one.
The gala was in Denver’s Art Museum, a beautiful building, and I was content to let my eye roam around the pieces more than the attendants, as waiters filtered through the crowd with trays of canapes and champagne. I mingled with Karen and Richard, never really straying far, and the evening passed quickly. It was around ten thirty, and the charity part of the evening had commenced. It was an auction, and I slipped to the back as people bid for luxurious things at eye-watering prices. A cool hand on my elbow made me look up. Aiden looked back at me.
“Aiden.” I glanced around as a warm feeling of excitement started collecting in my centre.
“Jemma, you look lovely.” He took a drink of his champagne as he stared out over the gala.
“I’m surprised to see you,” I murmured. He was still touching me. Did he know his thumb was rubbing circles on my arm?
“You don’t think it’s my scene?” His tone was slightly bitter.
“No,” I answered truthfully. “But then, it isn’t mine either.” I tried to pull my arm away. He held me tighter.
“What brings you here?” He still wasn’t looking at me.
“Richard and his wife asked me to join them.” I looked away from him and took a subtle step away. A soft tug and he pulled me back in.
“You’re running?” He glanced at me.
“You’re holding on quite tight,” I replied softly. He let me go. I stepped away. A passing waiter paused as Aiden replaced his empty flute with a full one. “Going down well?” I commented.
“Not quick enough, or strong enough, for what I need.”
My eyes ran over him. Jesus lord, why would you put a man that looked like Aiden in a tuxedo and then put him in front of me? Talk about temptation. His tux fit him like it was made for him, and it probably was. I drank him in greedily. His five o’clock shadow was gone—clean shaven Aiden was even hotter than scrubby faced Aiden. He smelled absolutely divine.
“See something you like, or do I look like someone you know?” His tone was low but mocking, a reminder of the first day we met.
“I see something I like.” Holy shitballs, Jemma.
Aiden’s eyes flared and then shut down.
“Go mingle, Jemma, it’s not a good idea to be around me tonight.” He turned and walked away.
I bit the inside of my lip. I was so tempted to follow him, but he obviously wasn’t in the mood for company—or maybe he wasn’t in the mood for me. Frowning, I edged back to the bar. I got another champagne, my third glass. It was the bubbles that were the danger. Maybe I needed water. My phone buzzed in my clutch. I pulled it out and had a text from Nadine. It said sorry and showed a screenshot. I let out a disbelieving laugh. The screenshot was of Tim’s Facebook page; Nadine was obviously stalking him. The post said he couldn’t wait until next year—so cheesy, Tim—to ask Cheryl to be his wife… I noted she said yes.
Cheryl. I didn’t know that was her name. I looked at my replacement. She looked nice. Slim, blonde, busty. I peered closer, maybe not naturally busty. Okay, no need to be bitchy. I looked at the ring. Another laugh, it was the same one. Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable, Tim.
“What’s funny?” I looked up at Aiden, and I handed him my phone. “Who’s this? Another book cover model?”
“My ex-fiancé. He just got engaged.” I took a swig of champagne. The glass was removed by Aiden, who took my hand in his.
“Come on.” He led me away from the bar.
“Where are we going?”
“Not here.”
He led me out of the main hall and up a corridor, through a bend, and suddenly we were in another room. Quieter, private.
“How long since you broke it off?” Aiden removed his bow tie. It wasn’t even a clip on, it was one of the ones you actually tie. I was more impressed than ever.
“Two and a half…no, maybe three months?” I leaned against a desk as I watched him.
“He moved on quickly.” Aiden still had a drink, only now it was in a tumbler—not champagne, looked like whisky.
“Oh no, I think they have been together for almost half a year, maybe longer.” I couldn’t hide the disdain.
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. Gotta love the cheaters.” I sighed as I shrugged. “Anyway, I didn’t need rescuing. I wasn’t going to break down.” I smiled. “This eyeliner took ages to get right.”
“Who says I was rescuing you?” He watched me as he sipped his drink.
My tummy flipped over. I looked around—we were in a room half lit from the hallway outside. “We should get back.”
Aiden walked over to me. His hand trailed down my arm. “Should we?”
“Aiden—” His mouth captured mine, stopping any other words. His tongue sought entry, and I gave it. He tasted of whisky and spice. His hands grabbed my ass and lifted me onto the desk, then he nudged my knees apart, one hand finding the split in my dress, and murmured in appreciation as he ran his hand down my leg.
Both hands slipped under the skirt of the dress, and he parted my legs so he could get closer to me. He pulled me in tighter to him, and my legs went around his waist as I helped him out of his tux jacket. I could feel him press up against where I needed him, and I ground against him once.
He pulled back slightly and looked at me, his eyes hooded. “Be careful, or I’m going to fuck you on this desk.”
“Then you better fuck me on the desk, because I don’t plan on being careful.” I tightened my legs around him, pulling him in harder.
Aiden made some primal noise that sounded a lot like a growl, and my core melted. I heard a rip and knew he had torn my pantyhose. He pushed my panties aside, and suddenly I was full as he pushed two fingers inside me.
“Oh God!” I moaned.
Aiden kissed me, his tongue matching the rhythm of his fingers as I clawed at his shirt and gasped for breath when his thumb started circling my nub. I tore my mouth away, and his lips went to my neck. “Don’t give me another hickey,” I whispered. I felt his smile as he nipped my collarbone.
“I didn’t mean to then.” He nipped at me again. “I might mean to now.” His fingers moved faster.
“Aiden.” My head lolled back as he found the side zip to the dress, and cool air brushed my skin.
“You close?” His words were a whisper in my ear, and I nodded frantically, then moaned in protest as he withdrew his fingers.
He chuckled softly as he helped me stand. The dress pooled at my feet, and I watched him breathlessly as he took off his shirt and loosened his pants. I was really doing this. I was going to have sex with him in an office, in a museum, at a charity gala. The thought was fleeting, because my attention was on something else entirely, and I relished his soft groan when I took him in my hand and began to stroke him.
“Back on the desk.” His voice was thick and heavy with desire as I heard the tell-tale rustle of a foil packet.
Aiden kissed me again as I felt him at my entrance, then he slid inside in one move, his mouth covering mine to stop my scream. Oh, my God. He waited. My legs curled around his waist and pulled him in tighter, and I rolled my hips, urging him to move. I felt his smile on my shoulder, and then he was moving. My God, he was moving, and I was moving with him. We were moving together, and it felt amazing. It felt better than amazing.
“Aiden!” I gasped ou
t his name.
His hands flexed on my hips as he dropped a kiss to my shoulder, then he was pulling out. Again. I groaned in frustration as he kissed me, pulling me off the desk and setting me on my feet before turning me and bending me over the desk. I registered somewhere in my sex fogged brain I was still wearing my stilettos. Aiden’s hand caressed my ass before he was sliding back inside me again. My hands curled onto the desk as he pounded into me. Aiden pulled me up, one hand cupping my breast, the other holding onto my hip as he surged into me. He kissed my jawline as his hand dropped from my breast, and he stroked me in matching rhythm. I exploded around him, his hand covering my mouth to silence my screams as he bit down on my shoulder to smother his own groan.
He lay on top of me for a moment before he withdrew, and with hands gentler than he had been, he turned me and lifted me onto the desk. I looked away as he discarded the condom, and then he pulled his pants back up. Covering me with my dress, he settled beside me on the desk, pulling me into his side. My eyes closed as my arm snaked over his perfect abs.
“What time is it?” I asked sleepily a while later.
“I don’t know,” Aiden mumbled.
We were still half-lying on the desk. Good sex and champagne will take it out of you, I mused wryly. “We should probably find out and get dressed.”
“Mm-hmm.” Aiden tucked me closer into his side.
“This isn’t even comfortable.” I giggled.
“Okay, I’ll take you home.” He stood, and I watched him get dressed. I sat up and stopped him. He looked at me in confusion, and then he smiled as I traced his tattoo on his side. “Told you my tattoo was better.”
“You did.” My fingers trailed over his abs again, tracing the dips and curves. I didn’t know a man could actually look like this.
“Jemma, you really want to start round two now?” His voice was low and husky as he caught my fingers.
“I could do two rounds.” I tugged playfully at his hand. He laughed as he caught my lips in a kiss, and I lost myself to him for a few moments.
“We need to find you a bathroom to fix your hair,” Aiden said with amusement.
“Oh shit.” My hands flew to my hair, and I winced as I remembered it was supposed to be an elegant chignon.
Her Greatest Mistake Page 6