“Hey, Conor,” she said. “Nice to see you again.”
His answering smile spread across his entire face. “Hey there, Red. See,” he said to Cole, “some people actually appreciate the finer aspects of my charm.”
Cole rolled his eyes. “That’s because she hasn’t been subjected to one of your cock blocks.”
“Dude, how was I supposed to know you had some sort of mile-high kink fest planned? Cassie’s eyes grew wide. “Have you met them?”
Conor chuckled. “True, but they’re an old married couple now.”
“That reminds me,” she said, turning back to the sexually frustrated couple. “Happy anniversary.”
“Still celebrating each month?” Conor asked his best friend. “What the fuck, are you in middle school?” He pulled the straw out of his blended drink and sucked the whip cream from the end. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.
True to form, Cole flipped his friend a middle-finger salute. Olivia on the other hand remained uncharacteristically quiet. No laugh, no snort, not even a smile. Normally she would have rolled her eyes and hit the two of them with a witty barb that put them in their place. But at the moment she was far too busy scrutinizing Cassie to chastise her husband and his friend for their childish behavior.
“What are you all up to this afternoon?” Cassie asked in an attempt to shift Olivia’s focus.
“Hitting the links for nine holes,” Conor said, teeing off with an imaginary club. “At least I am. This one,” he said, elbowing Cole in the ribs, “claims to have too much to do.”
Cole was busy typing away on his smartphone, his brow furrowed. He answered Conor without taking his eyes off the screen. “Some of us actually work for a living.”
Cassie wondered, not for the first time, what it was Conor actually did. He seemed to move through life without a care in the world, let alone an obligation, yet ran with a crowd of players with more money than free time.
“Buzz kill, dude. It’s a wild wedding weekend. No place for a conference call.”
“A fact that means very little to this company in Sao Paolo,” Cole said. He looked up as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Don’t worry, I’ll be done in time to meet you for a beer at the clubhouse.” He smirked. “And pick up the tab.”
“Just a quickie, eh?” Conor grinned. “And here I thought you were only speedy in the bedroom.”
“Asshole.”
“Dickhead.”
“Oh!” Olivia said, finally distracted from her case study of Cassie. “Does that mean we’ll have time for a quickie too?”
A wicked gleam lit Cole’s eyes as he snaked his arm around his wife’s waist and pulled her close. “Nothing quick about what I have in mind for you, Mrs. Grant.”
And just like that Olivia was a goner. So much so that she didn’t even balk at the fact that Cole had un-hyphenated her name. It was the perfect chance to make a clean getaway.
“Well, I better get showered,” Cassie said. “Still have a few last-minute things to do before the festivities begin.”
“No spa day then?” Olivia asked, her attention back on Cassie. She pushed her lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I booked a few appointments just in case I could convince you.”
“I wish. But I still have the main event to decorate before the rehearsal,” Cassie said backing away from their little group. But Olivia wasn’t giving up so easily.
“You guys go on and get checked in,” she said. “I’m going to see if I can at least talk this one into a manipedi.”
So much for the distraction.
Olivia grabbed Cassie by the elbow and, after a quick wave over her shoulder to the guys, hurried her down the sidewalk. They’d barely cleared the corner when she dragged her onto the side street.
“Liv, honestly I can’t spare the time for a day of—”
“You had sex!” she whispered much too loudly.
“What? No!”
“Oh, yes you did!”
There was really no use in denying it—the woman had a freaking sex radar—but Cassie was still going to try. “Don’t be ridiculous. I mean, who would I have had sex with? I don’t even know anyone in this town,” she said, talking as fast as she had in the hallway with Matthew and Hank. “And like you said, it’s not like Prince Charming was going to waltz in and sweep me off my feet. Although to be fair, I did twist my ankle a bit, but it feels fine now and—”
“Give it up, cupcake. It’s written all over your face.”
Cassie pressed her hands to her cheeks. “That’s from running.”
“Another dead giveaway. You hate to exercise, which means . . .” Olivia gasped. “You’re going to do it again!”
“Maybe. I mean, I hope so.” Cassie’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, I don’t know. Last night it seemed so simple, but today . . .”
Olivia threw her arm around Cassie’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“The spa.”
“But—”
“I’ll have you back in plenty of time to put the little bride and groom on top of the cake.”
“How did you—”
“Know that you really didn’t have much left to do?”
Cassie nodded.
“Because I know you and there is no way you would cut a deadline like that close, super- sexy night or not. And you should know me well enough to know that I’m not letting this go. I’ll torture it out of you if I have to, but I’m getting this scoop.”
“I think waterboarding is frowned upon at most spas,” Cassie said with a laugh.
“That might be true, but a few mimosas after a nice seaweed body wrap can be just as effective.” She flashed a devious grin. “Now, let’s get you buffed and pampered and ready for another romp.”
Chapter Eight
Cassie had never been to a spa. Mostly because it was an indulgence she could never quite fit into her budget, but also because the idea of a stranger touching her squishy bits wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when she imagined ways to relax and unwind. She suspected her unease was the reason Olivia had booked them into a double room. That, and so she could interrogate her between treatments. She’d braced herself for a barrage of questions the moment they’d walked into the rose-scented room. But after a manicure and pedicure followed by a facial and a hot stone massage, she hadn’t asked so much as a single one. And by the time they were finishing their Ayurvedic scalp massage, Cassie was actually starting to think Olivia was going to let it be.
Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? This was a woman who lobbied a man on the sidewalk for three months.
They’d just been led into what the spa called their relaxation room when she went for it.
“All right,” Olivia said, after they were each settled in oversized leather chairs. “Tell me about last night.”
Tranquil music wafted over the sounds of a babbling brook . . . and Olivia’s tapping nails.
“You’re relentless, do you know that?”
“Part of my charm. Ask Cole. It’s what made him fall in love with me.”
Cassie laughed. “I believe Cole would tell me that watching your ass as you walked down the sidewalk is what made him fall in love with you.”
“Well, that too.” Olivia giggled. An honest-to-goodness giggle. The love fairy had not only sprinkled pixie dust all over her, she’d apparently knocked her on the head with the wand a few times as well. “And stop trying to change the subject.”
“You’re ruining my Zen,” Cassie said, pulling her fluffy white robe a bit tighter. Her words were accompanied by a teasing grin, although she was only half joking. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell Olivia all the juicy details of last night, but how could she explain something she didn’t really understand herself?
“Listen to the music.” She took a sip of water and then closed her eyes as she settled back against the soft leather. “It’s an adagio pattern.”
“A what?”
“An adagio pattern, which
is sixty beats per minute, the same rate as a resting heart. If you let it, your body will match the rhythm and you’ll relax more quickly.”
“Your freaky math brain aside, I’ve been relaxing for the last two hours. Now it’s time to dish.”
Cassie snorted softly. “I think the point of this room is to be calm and serene.”
“Okay, then calmly and serenely give me the 411. And don’t leave out a single detail. I want it all—height, hair color, dick size.”
Cassie’s eyes popped open. “Olivia!” she said in a hushed shout.
Olivia leaned forward in her seat, her lips curving into a predatory grin. Despite the room’s dim lighting there was little hope she’d missed the blush that rushed to Cassie’s cheeks. She knew this had to be one hell of a story and there was no way she was letting her off the hook.
“Fine,” Cassie said, giving in and telling her best friend the details of the previous night—everything from the crumpled map to the awkward conversation with her brother. When she was done, Olivia sat back against her seat and blew a low whistle between her teeth. She managed a quiet “wow” but other than that she was speechless, something Cassie never thought she’d see.
“You know I was only kidding about the refrigerator,” she finally said.
“To be fair we didn’t actually do it against the fridge.”
Olivia met her friend’s gaze with wide eyes. “Um, no, but it sounds like you did it everywhere else. I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had it in you.” Her words were laced with awe and disbelief and, if Cassie wasn’t mistaken, a hint of pride as well.
“Neither did I,” Cassie said. To say her sex life had been boring was an understatement. For starters, she’d been what most would call a late bloomer. Saving herself for Mr. Right had started innocently enough when she was in high school, but as more time passed it started to take on a life of its own and at that point she was kind of stuck. After waiting so long she couldn’t very well give the big V to just any guy, which made the selection process damn near impossible. Then one Saturday night after a few too many shots of peach schnapps she decided to take the plunge with her study group partner. It had been quick and tidy and over with enough time to order a pizza and get a jump on Monday’s homework. Not that she’d been expecting fireworks necessarily, but she’d at least expected it to be worth the wait.
To be honest, the entire experience left her wondering what all the fuss was about. Sure it was nice, but a lot of things in life were nice. Chocolate soufflés were nice. Chocolate cupcakes were nice. Chocolate brownies were nice. Come to think of it, just about everything chocolate was nice, just higher in calories. But being with Hank was so much more. Sex with him was a chocolate fountain, and not a small one either, but the big three-tiered kind that came with all sorts of items to dip: marshmallows and pretzel sticks and graham crackers and pound cake. Oh, and strawberries. Mmm, she thought, strawberries dipped in chocolate . . .
Images filtered through her mind. Hank’s body pinning hers against cool glass, his warm breath fanning out across her skin, his tongue darting out to lick the sweet chocolate off his lips, teasing and taunting her before finally claiming her mouth in a warm lush kiss.
The door opened, interrupting memories that had Cassie pressing her thighs together in search of relief. An attendant entered the room with a tray of pineapple-infused waters. Olivia took two flutes and passed one to Cassie. “To wild weekends with handsome strangers,” she said, clinking their glasses.
Cassie snorted. “Yeah, except it turns out he wasn’t a total stranger.” The expression on her brother’s shocked face flashed before her eyes like the proverbial bucket of cold water, and a shiver rushed across her overheated skin.
“He was when you met him,” Olivia pointed out. “So technically it still counts.” She paused before taking a sip. “Either way, one thing’s for certain.”
“What’s that?”
Olivia shot her a knowing grin over the rim of her crystal flute. “At least you don’t have to worry about dying a virgin.”
The problem with going by a different name, Hank decided, was remembering to turn around when it was called. Otherwise you risked offending the person waving to you from across the car park, which would be very bad form indeed. Particularly if the person in question was the lovely pastry chef from the previous night. Lucky for him, Matthew caught his attention. Not so lucky for him, he did it with a sharp elbow to the ribs.
“Sod off.” Hank rubbed his side. “What was that for?”
“You,” Matthew grunted under his breath. “For coming up with this ridiculous idea and then forgetting your own name.” He nodded, and Hank followed his gaze to find his sister headed their way. Cassie had occupied his every thought since they’d parted ways that morning. Seeing her now was like a shot of adrenaline straight to his heart, not to mention his cock.
Her hair was once again pulled up in a messy bun, much as it had been when he’d first met her the night before. But this time, instead of her face being covered with a streak of flour or a dab of chocolate, it was clean and bright and positively glowing. She looked gorgeous. Although truth be told, he preferred the post-orgasmic glow of the night before. When she’d gazed up at him, her cheeks pink, her eyes hazy, and her face covered with a light sheen of sweat, she’d nearly taken his breath away.
“Hey Squirt,” Matthew said, invoking what Hank could only assume was a childhood nickname designed to remind him of her status as his little sister. Only problem was, Cassie didn’t look like a little sister. She looked like a beautiful, sexy woman who’d been well fucked the night before, and with any luck, was game for more.
She rolled her eyes at his greeting, but her smile was warm and inviting.
“What are you doing here?” Matthew asked. He leaned forward to give his sister a kiss on the cheek. Hank would have loved to have kissed her there and a million other places as well, but Matthew had barely survived the thought of his mate shagging his sister. Best not to push his luck with a public display of affection, at least not yet. So instead of hauling Cassie into his arms and kissing her senseless, he simply greeted her with a smile.
Cassie poked her thumb over her shoulder to the spa adjoining the country club. “Olivia dragged me off for some forced pampering.” She stood a little taller. “I’ve been properly buffed and polished.”
That would explain the glow. And here Hank had been selfishly hoping he was somehow responsible.
“How was the golf game?” she asked, nodding to the bag of clubs slung over her brother’s shoulder. Seemed some Americans were so taken with the sport they had custom clubs fitted then topped them with covers shaped like team mascots or woodland creatures. Matthew’s driver was topped with the vermin who taunted Bill Murray in Caddyshack. Not that Hank would have ever been caught dead with such a club cover—let alone care enough about the sport to own his own set to begin with—but the choice seemed like a suitable one for his friend as the game seemed to bring him as much aggravation as joy.
“Game was great,” Matthew replied.
“He’s only saying that because he won,” Hank said. They were the first words he’d spoken and they’d no sooner left his mouth when he regretted not addressing her in a more proper fashion. It was as if all sense of manners had left him. Not that pressing her up against the refrigerator had been the height of decorum, but still. Nonetheless, he’d started down this conversational path, might as well finish it. “Not a fair fight if you ask me,” he said. “Picking the one game I can’t be arsked to play.”
Hank had played golf before, several times in Asia and even once in the Middle East, but it had never been at his request. He’d even played a round at St. Andrew’s back in his uni days. That outing had proven particularly gruesome thanks to a torrential rain, prompting him to question who first thought golf in Scotland was a good idea. Then again, in warmer locations he could think of much better ways to pass the time. Most involved far less clothing, and none included a clu
b.
Matthew laughed. “Not my fault you don’t have the patience to appreciate the sport.”
“On the contrary, chess is a game that requires patience. Golf is merely chasing a tiny ball around a very large field. He even rents a buggy, so there’s not a lick of exercise to be gained either. Utterly useless.” Hank shook his head but then he looked up and his gaze met Cassie’s and for a moment her wide green eyes rendered him speechless. She was smiling at their adversarial banter, but in her eyes Hank saw far more than casual amusement. She was a puzzle that one, a conundrum really. Because somehow his beautiful stranger managed to be innocent and seductive all at once. It was a heady combination, one that stirred emotions inside Hank unlike any he’d ever felt before. He wanted to protect this woman, to hold her close and keep the world at bay. But at the same time, he wanted to strip away the last vestiges of her inhibitions and take her places she’d never dreamed possible. His Little Vixen was naive and wholesome, but she was also ripe and curious and ready to explore her sexuality. And Hank was more than ready to serve as her guide.
Several beats of silence passed as he held her gaze, until a hard slap on Hank’s shoulder broke their connection.
“Drinks in the clubhouse?” Conor asked, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m buying.”
“With my money,” Hank said dryly.
Conor laughed. “A bet’s a bet my new friend.” Even after spending nine holes with the man, Hank still hadn’t grown accustomed to the ensemble he’d chosen. He wore a lime green golf shirt and a pair of plaid pants that could be seen from outer space. Seemed the game itself wasn’t the only annoying aspect of golf. The wardrobe selections left a lot to be desired as well. “Don’t take this personally, but your golf game is for shit. Or is it shite?” He laughed again. “But never fear, Conor is here to let you drink it all back.”
Icing on the Cake (Wild Wedding Series Book 2) Page 9