I’m not even thirty!
The hot, hard length of Mark’s thigh pressed against mine under the table. I reluctantly turned, expecting to see him silently laughing at me. He wasn’t. He was glaring at Susan.
“The dress Laura wore to her second wedding was lovely, too.” Mum slipped in the counter-insult with a smile. Originally, the game had just been about insulting each other. As they’d run out of ways to insult each other, it had expanded to their children (me and Laura) and to other people they perceived to have insulted them – for example, Lucinda and Anne today, for putting them in the back pew at the church and seating us at the very back of the huge ballroom, half hidden behind a column and with no eligible men for them to flirt with. “I didn’t even realise they made maternity wedding dresses until your Laura’s second wedding.”
“Whoa, ladies,” Mark said, clearly concerned they were going to come to blows.
“Come on, Mum, Susan, not here,” I added.
They ignored me again. The attention of the other guests at our table moved from the long and boring speeches, to the far more interesting conversation occurring right in front of them. “I suppose that’s because you haven’t had the joy of organising one wedding yet… let alone two,” Susan said.
A direct hit. Her smile was pained, but a spark of challenge lit her eyes. “Kate wants to make sure she gets it right the first time.”
With their words, panic built inside of me. I was nearly thirty years old, running out of time. Laura was younger than me. She had married twice and had two children. I couldn’t even get a decent date when I (my mum) advertised for one.
It was painful to admit, but maybe Mark and Mum were right: if I didn’t find a man soon, I’d be left on the shelf, too old to have children, body sagging and wrinkled. I took another swig of wine courage. This was it. No putting it off or getting scared and slinking off. I had to make a move on Chris. I couldn’t just wait and hope he approached me.
“Ha,” Susan said. “You forget, I met Kate’s first boyfriend, Graham!”
It was fourteen damn years ago and no one would let me forget it. I almost bit my tongue off to not rise to their bait. It would only make them worse.
“Ugh, Graham.” Mum shuddered. “Well, as your Laura will tell you, Susan, a girl gets to make her youthful mistakes. At least Kate didn’t marry hers.” I flinched for the absent, but now happily married, Laura. Susan laughed and patted Mum’s hand affectionately.
“Speaking of weddings,” Mark cut in, “isn’t the bride’s dress lovely?”
Susan snorted and Mum laughed.
“You’ll have to try harder than that to get them to stop,” I offered.
He smiled, shrugging off my comment. “As long as they don’t start talking about you losing your virginity, I’m happy to call it a success.” A rare moment of agreement passed between us.
“Load of sentimental rubbish,” Susan snapped, commenting on the personalised wedding vows.
Leaning back in my chair, so I could see past the column, I tried to check out Chris, maybe get a little eye contact. Jamie was delivering the best-man speech, going into detail about some lads’ holiday he and the groom had taken. There must have been an in-joke somewhere, as the groom was blushing hot enough to toast bread, and a few of the groomsmen were snickering into their drinks. Chris appeared to be captivated by Jamie’s story, staring at him as he spoke, a small (sexy) smile tipping his beautifully shaped lips.
Mark leant forward, blocking my view, his breath tickling my ear and sending goose bumps skating down my neck and straight to my nipples. “Are they always like this?” He gave a chin jerk towards my mother and Susan.
“Unfortunately,” I responded, shaking off the shivers.
Mark’s position created a semi-private space for our conversation. Not that it mattered; Mum and Susan were too fixated on their game to care what anyone else was saying or doing. But I enjoyed being the centre of a hot guy’s attention for a while, even if it was just Mark. Maybe I could practice a couple of flirting moves on him before I used them on Chris.
“It’s a bit…” He struggled to find an acceptable word to call my mother.
“Catty,” I offered breathily, holding eye contact as I slowly licked my lips and flicked my hair over my shoulder.
“Hmm.” He nodded, eyes darkening, as he leant forwards.
Wow! That was unexpectedly easy. I must be a natural. No practice flirting required.
“I’m amazed Lucinda didn’t insist on a veil. It would’ve looked so much nicer in the photos, if they’d hidden her nose.” Mum and Susan bitched on, ruining my moment.
“Remember when Lucinda used to say she would grow into it?” They both dissolved into cackles that had the wedding guests at other tables turning from the speeches, which were still droning on.
“Shhh, Mum!” I sank down in my chair and reached for my wine glass, hoping my slouched position and the fact my table was at the back of the room, in a corner half hidden by a column, meant Chris couldn’t see me and connect me with my mother and Susan. “You’re interrupting the speeches.” I glanced around the table, seeking support, but found none. Even the doctor and his wife were snickering at the comments.
Susan jumped in to defend my mother. “If Lucinda wanted us to listen to the speeches, she shouldn’t have stuck us in this dark corner so far away from everything and fed us prawn cocktail and chicken with cold gravy.”
“If the pair of you had taken a break from gossiping long enough to eat it when it first arrived, it would still be warm.” I said.
“It would still have been prawn cocktail, though. So eighties!” Mark mimicked Susan’s tone perfectly, pitched so only I could hear. I tried and failed to hide my smile. Who would have guessed Mark had a sense of humour and that I would like it?
Susan’s voice cut into our little flirt bubble. “She was probably scared if we sat any closer we’d be able to see that Anne’s still stuffing her bra. That wasn’t ever something either of our girls had trouble with. Just look at your Kate. She’s practically bursting out of her dress.”
I glanced down, checking the V-neck of my dress. I was nowhere near bursting out. This dress fit perfectly. I’d been really careful when picking a wedding outfit, something that made me look sexy, but was still wedding appropriate (i.e. a hint of boobs, not a full-on flash).
A rumbling growl echoed beside me. I turned, catching Mark glaring across the table at the doctor’s acne-covered son, who was staring at my chest like he had x-ray vision. Mark laid a proprietary hand on the back of my chair.
I tolerated the possessive gesture for now – it played into my practice flirtation – but as soon as the speeches were over, he better move out of my personal space. The last thing I wanted was Chris (or even Jamie, as a scary BDSM-style backup) thinking that I was taken by Mark.
“It’s a shame, really,” Mum continued. “I don’t know how Anne ended up with a man, a surgeon, when my Kate is struggling.”
“KT could have any man she wanted,” Mark cut in coolly, which was odd. He was usually the first person in with a joke at my expense.
Mum and Susan took the hint for once and went back to bride bashing. “I wonder what he sees in her,” Mum queried.
“She’s probably in trouble,” Susan responded. Mum’s head tipped and she turned back to study me across the table. I could practically hear the cogs turning in her mind. She was probably trying to figure out how to get me knocked up, so she could force a shotgun wedding. The fact Anne was younger than me, getting married, and potentially pregnant was riling Mum’s competitive streak. She’d be renewing her interest in her mission to get me paired off and providing her with grandchildren if I didn’t start to show some dating progress soon.
People started to clap, alerting us to the fact the speeches were over. The lights dimmed and the DJ began playing some overly sentimental music… something with an organ and harp, but no lyrics.
Everyone turned to stare at the bride and groom
as they made their way to the dance floor, Anne’s huge, multi-layered princess-cut gown brushing against people as she swept past. “It’s just like one of those toilet roll covers my grandmother used to crochet,” my mother commented.
“So eighties!” Susan responded. Mark caught my eye and I laughed, as Susan unknowingly echoed his earlier mocking words and tone. “It’s hard to get maternity wedding dresses, and there’s only so much letting out they can do on short notice.”
“She always was a bit of a hussy–”
“That’s enough!” I snapped. I couldn’t listen to another nasty word, game or not. My nails scored my palms and my head hurt, I’d clenched my jaw so tightly.
“Easy, KT.”
I jumped as Mark squeezed my thigh under the table with his left hand at the same time as he cupped the back of my neck, his right hand sliding under my hair, his thumb stroking behind my ear, sending showers of sensation shivering down my neck… I melted into his touch, staring into his darkening eyes.
A smile slowly tilted the corners of his lips. My mouth stretched in response. My jaw loosened and my fists unclenched on the table.
He’d stripped off his suit jacket. His navy-blue shirt (which, coincidently, matched my dress perfectly) was tailored to his ripped physique and brought out the colour in his eyes. He smelt deliciously fresh and piney.
On the dance floor, Anne moved into the arms of her new husband. “She’s a tiny little thing,” Susan said, sounding almost sentimental. “A man likes a petite woman. It makes him feel big, manly, and protective.”
“I always thought it was a shame my Kate didn’t stop growing sooner,” Mum said. “She got it from her father. There aren’t any Hulks on my side of the family. She can’t even wear heels without towering over most men.”
“It’s hard to find nice shoes when you have big feet, too,” Susan said.
Mark growled over his shoulder, “Knock it off, ladies. There’s nothing wrong with KT, and I think we’ve all had enough of your game for one day.” He didn’t bother waiting for their response. He turned back to me, making a man wall between me and the rest of the table. His large, palm cupped my chin, tipping my face up to his. “You have a great body. Your boobs aren’t too big. They’re perfect handfuls.” His eyes darkened from navy to almost black. My “perfect” boobs felt heavy, my nipples tingled, and lower, between my legs, there was a fluttering. “And the right man, whether he’s tall or short, will be proud to be seen with you in your sexy strappy shoes.”
The wine waiter approached. Mum covered the top of my glass with her palm. “Don’t end up a drunken sot, Kate. Nothing is more off-putting to men than a desperate drunken woman.”
That was it! I shot up from the table, red-hot temper blanking my mind.
Mark surged from his chair. Snagging my arm, he used my momentum to turn me into his chest. I hit hard, jarring my neck and forcing him to take a small step back. The impact brought tears to my eyes. He stroked down my arm, his palm sliding against mine, his fingers lacing with my own.
“Let’s dance.” He leant forward, putting his lips to my ear, obviously reading the rejection on my face. I didn’t want to ruin my chance with Chris because he thought I was taken by Mark. “Think of my offer as an escape hatch.” His breath caressed my skin, goose bumps forming in its wake. “It’s dance with me or stay here with your mother and Susan and the game.”
Adele was singing “Make You Feel My Love”. As soon as we hit the dance floor, Mark settled me against him, lifting my hands to loop around his neck, catching them and putting them back when I would have removed them. Finally, happy that I wasn’t going to move, he slid his hands over my shoulders, down my spine, applying gentle pressure, easing me against him, before settling at my hips.
“Stop touching me up.” I wriggled against him, trying to put an inch of space between us, whilst glancing over his shoulder to make sure Chris (or Jamie) wasn’t watching. “I don’t want someone thinking we’re together and not approaching me.”
His hands tightened on my hips. “Are you seriously on a date with me and trying to attract another man?”
“What? No.” I shook my head, flinching at his hurt look. “We’re not on a date.”
“Yes, we are.”
“You’re my mum’s date.” Anne didn’t think I needed a plus one.
“Tip from me: dates don’t look over their date’s shoulder for a better offer.” He shifted and tightened his hold on me, so I could no longer see past his shoulder to where Chris and Jamie sat locked in deep discussion, a bridesmaid looking like a Greek goddess in her cerise toga-style dress cosying up to them.
I gave up. I’d just stay here, dance with Mark for a bit longer, work up a bit more courage, and then go and chat up whichever one of them the cerise goddess didn’t want at the free bar. When he’d had a bit more to drink and lowered his standards from goddesses to mere mortals. Resting my head on his shoulder, I closed my eyes, cutting out the glare of the multicoloured flashing lights, and sighed as one slow song blended into another.
Mark’s hands slid another couple of inches down my spine, coming to rest against the upper curve of my ass (as he would say), high enough that I couldn’t complain without seeming like a prude, but close enough that I knew he could feel the curve begin against the tips of fingers. He stroked, smoothing the cotton material of my dress from one side to the other. My bones melted and my body flowed, pressing against the hard planes of his. His piny scent wrapped around me.
His lips pressed briefly against my temple. It felt nice. Maybe better than nice. I must have had too much to drink. I glared at the DJ, praying he’d get to “Y.M.C.A.” or “Macarena” before I snuggled any closer and made a fool of myself, feeling warm and tingly for Mark.
His right leg slid between mine and he dipped me, pausing to mock-leer at me from directly above my chest, which was, as Susan pointed out earlier, threatening to make a great escape. “Nice view.” He swivelled, deflecting my knee from its true target and taking a hefty blow to his inner thigh. “There’s the tempestuous KT we all know and love.” He grunted then laughed.
“Hey there, gorgeous!”
“TJ!” I squealed with delight, as my best friend appeared beside us, looking debonair in a tailored slim-fit claret silk suit, with a black shirt underneath. “Hey!” Mark’s arms clamped down tight, holding me against him, preventing me from launching myself at TJ for my usual hug. I struggled to get free, and he stared back, dark eyes impenetrable.
TJ laughed, white teeth flashing in his tanned face. “Don’t worry, Mark who’s-not-related-to-the-gorgeous-Kate-in-any-way – I’m not here to steal your girl.” What? I wasn’t Mark’s girl. “I’m about to escape this wedding tedium. I just came to apologise for suggesting the wedding as a perfect pulling arena, Kate.”
“Why?” I asked. “I spotted at least two hot groomsmen.” And I was almost ready to make my move.
“The Chris Hemsworth and Jamie Dornan lookalikes?” I nodded eagerly. TJ totally knew my type. Mark tensed against me, his arms squeezing the breath from my lungs. I tugged the hair on his nape sharply. He grunted, looking down at me, then relaxed his hold, allowing me to draw breath. “I’m sorry to break it to you, babe,” TJ said. “But they play for my team.”
“Nooo.” I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “They’re gay?”
He nodded.
“Both of them?” I whined.
“This place is like a gay buffet. Even half the married ones.” Mark relaxed further, settling me more comfortably against him. TJ glanced around, checking who was close by. “I sent Josh a snap of the wedding party. You know how he loves that shit.”
I nodded, my cheek rubbing against Mark’s shirt, his warm scent giving me an aroma-driven high. It was all I could do not to purr like a contented cat.
“His boyfriend says he recognises the groom. He thinks they had a friends-with-benefits thing when they were at university.”
What? I jerked back. “Seriously?” He nodde
d. Poor Anne. Poor me. “I can’t believe I’ve wasted an entire day on this.”
“It doesn’t look like a waste from where I’m standing, babe,” TJ said before blowing me a kiss, winking at Mark, and turning on his Cuban heels to head off across the dance floor. He stopped after only a couple of steps. “Oh, Josh said you should give speed dating a try. You only have to speak to people for a couple of minutes, and there are lots of other people there in the same” – he struggled for a word, then shrugged – “state as you. So, you’ll definitely be able to find someone to go out on another date with you.”
Chapter 6
You must be a thief, because you stole my heart from across the room.
I was nervous. It was date night, again, and not just one date this time, lots of them. It was a week after Anne’s wedding, three weeks into my eight weeks of desperately dating, and Mark had kindly spent a couple of days researching online before booking me into a speed dating session. I’d rather have a bikini wax given by a blind trainee and a pap test on Facebook Live than do this.
I took a couple of deep breaths to calm my nerves, then had to make a desperate grab for the top of my bustier to stop my boobs making a bid for freedom.
“Steady on there, honey.” Mark’s voice rumbled beside me, as his hand settled at the small of my back. He cleared his throat. “As much as I’d love to meet your girls up close and personal, I’d prefer it to be more of a private than a public experience.”
I rolled my eyes, using another quick tug at my bodice as an opportunity to elbow him in the side. “In your dreams.”
“Every night, KT. Every night.” I laughed at his exaggerated pained tone, nerves forgotten. “That’s better.” His hand lifted from my back, briefly cupping the back of my neck before smoothing down my spine. An unexpected warmth followed in its wake, spreading out to encompass my whole body. “What were you worrying about?” he said as he guided me down the pavement with the pressure of his palm on my lower back.
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