Undeniably Yours

by Shannon Stacey

  He’d gone through his share of willing companions after the divorce, when he bought the bar, but lately he’d been making the trip upstairs to his apartment alone more often than not. The kind of women willing to spend one night with a guy they didn’t know just because he filled out his shirts well, or so he was told, and owned the bar weren’t the kind of women he wanted to have breakfast with the next morning.

  And definitely not the kind of women you brought to your brother’s wedding.

  Unfortunately, thoughts of his type of woman led to thoughts of Beth, the pretty brunette who’d passed judgment on his type and been totally wrong. It had been two days since he busted her boss’s nose and it irked him he kept thinking about her. It also irked him she’d left with the impression he was some kind of player.

  If she wasn’t so prickly—and if he knew her last name or where she lived—he’d probably like an opportunity to show her she was wrong about his type. He wasn’t sure why he cared, but it bugged him she’d left with such a bad opinion of him. He wasn’t used to that.

  “Almost our turn,” Joe said, jerking him out of his thoughts. “And then we should be able to go inside. And do more…girly wedding stuff. Whatever. Keri’s so happy she’s gonna bust, so it’s worth it.”

  “So are you,” Mike pointed out. “I still don’t know how you pulled this all off.”

  Joe snorted. “It’s called a blank check, my friend. Keri wanted fall foliage and I wasn’t waiting a year for her to be my wife, so I said the magic words—money’s no object.”

  His brother didn’t usually make a big deal about the money the sick horror novels he wrote earned, but a blank check from him was a pretty big blank check.

  The drill sergeant bellowed for them. “Okay, I want groomsmen lined up behind the groom, four inches between you and slightly angled away from the camera. You, the tall one—you’re in the back.”

  Screw that. Kevin threw his arm around Joe’s shoulders and pulled him into a headlock. Joe jerked to the right, trying to escape, but he moved right into Mike’s waiting noogie. Evan laughed and added rabbit ears to the back of Joe’s head.

  The photographer almost dropped her big, fancy camera, but the mothers of the bride and groom were hitting the shutter button as fast as their compact digital numbers would fire.

  “Kowalski Wedding Photo of Doom,” the bride shouted and Mike’s four boys and Terry’s almost-teenage daughter joined the pig pile.

  They were all still laughing, a little breathless and more than a little sweaty when the wedding planner finally pulled them apart and ushered them inside. Thankfully the black tuxedos hid the grass stains, but Stephanie’s dress was missing some lace around the hem.

  They were supposed to go to the head table, but there were still toasts and formal dances and more freaking pictures to survive before the party could begin and he wasn’t getting through all that with nothing but a sissy glass of champagne. With beer on his mind and a possible redheaded dance partner in his peripheral vision, he made a quick detour to the open bar.

  And came face to face with Beth.

  Chapter Two

  Of all the weddings in all the world, she just had to be working this one. Beth took one look at Kevin in his tuxedo and knew it was going to be a very long night.

  Tuxedo meant wedding party which meant he was not only going to be there for the entire event, but he was a VIP. That meant she had to smile and make nice with the pain in the ass whose fault it was—kind of—that she was manning an open bar from six in the evening until one in the morning instead of sitting with her feet up after a fairly mild day answering Derek’s phones and syncing his calendar.

  She felt the hot flush spread across her chest as his blue eyes met hers. She’d been kind of bitchy the day they met and she felt bad about that. But mostly the hot flush came from the memory of what he’d done to her in her dreams last night.

  This morning she’d blamed it on the microwave burritos she’d devoured too close to bedtime but now, with the man once again in arm’s reach, she had to reluctantly admit—but only to herself—she might be attracted to him. Just a little. Since, even if she was looking for a relationship, it wouldn’t be with a guy who collected numbers on napkins, she’d prefer to blame the hot and sweaty night on nuked pseudo-Mexican food.

  “What can I get you, sir?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t remember her.

  The way his dimples flirted with the corners of his mouth said no such luck. “Sam Adams.”

  She grabbed a chilled bottle and popped the cap. “Glass?”

  “Bottle’s good.” Instead of letting her set it down, then picking it up, he took it out of her hand, which caused his fingers to brush hers and her to shiver. “Glad to see you found another job.”

  She shrugged and tried not to make too big a deal about pulling her hand away. “Part-time and temporary, but better than nothing.”

  “Gimme your cellphone for a sec.”

  “Don’t have one.” Not that she’d hand it over to him. She didn’t need him punching his number into it because she wouldn’t be calling him.

  “You don’t have—”

  “Uncle Kevin!” A teenage boy in a tux rushed over and took hold of Kevin’s elbow. “If you’re not sitting down in ten seconds, Grammy said she’ll drag you over by your earlobe and make you cry.”

  Kevin laughed, then winked at Beth. “I’ll be back.”

  That’s what she was afraid of. Unfortunately, things would be slow at the bar until the toasts were done and people felt free to get up and move around, so she had plenty of time to watch the goings-on.

  When the DJ announced it was time for the best man’s toast, she saw Kevin laugh, which made the groom look nervous. Intrigued, she stood tip-toe, trying to see around the guests jostling for videotaping space. Kevin accepted the microphone from his dad and a few people snickered when a guy she assumed, based on family resemblance, was another brother was handed one, too.

  “Did I ever tell you you’re my hero?” Kevin asked Joe, and then he got down on one knee in front of him. The other brother stood behind him with his four sons—or so she assumed after watching them—gathered around.

  Then they started to sing and laughter rippled through the crowd. It seemed that besides blue eyes and dimples, not being able to carry a tune was a strong family trait for the Kowalskis.

  But watching Kevin sing the worst off-key rendition ever of “Wind Beneath My Wings” to his brother, with his other brother and nephews singing backup, Beth felt the first alarming stir of a bad case of the warm and fuzzies.

  It just got worse watching him interact with his family, especially dancing with his mom and a teenage girl Beth thought might be his niece. It was a big, affectionate, loud family and their laughter was the soundtrack of the night.

  Once the duty dances were over and then the dinner dishes cleared away, Beth lost track of time handing out mimosas to the women and mostly beer to the men. Once the older folks and kids went off to bed, the drinks would get stronger, but for now it was easy work.

  “So you really don’t have a cellphone?”

  Or it would be easy work if her body wasn’t tuned in like a quivering antenna to the vibe Kevin was broadcasting. “I really don’t. Another Sam Adams?”

  He held up a half-full bottle. “I’m set. Mike grabbed me one.”

  Then why are you over here? “Okay.”

  “Even my mom has a cellphone and she can’t figure out how to check her email.”

  “Why are you so hung up on my not having a cellphone?”

  “Hung up?” He laughed. “Hung up. Cellphone. Get it?”

  She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop herself from laughing with him. “That was bad. And I washed my cell with my jeans and haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet.”

  “Got a phone at home?”

  “Yup.” She turned away to make another mimosa for the beaming woman she’d figured out was the mother of the bride.

  When she
was done, Kevin slid a cocktail napkin toward her. “Got a pen?”

  There was one next to the register, but when she held it out to him, he ignored it. He just grinned at her, with the pretty blue eyes and the oh-so-charming dimples.

  “Oh, hell no,” she said. “I’m not writing my number on a napkin so you can add it to your collection.”

  “I don’t have a collection because I don’t want their numbers. I want yours.”

  Before she could respond, another of the boys ran up and yanked on his arm. “Uncle Kevin, it’s time for the cake!”

  Beth used the blank napkin to wipe down the bar, then tossed it in the trash. She was there to work, not dodge advances from a guy who thought his dimples would make her throw herself at him.

  The dimples wouldn’t. The whole package might—the looks and the sense of humor and the very sweet way he was with his family, along with the steamy way he looked at her—but she wasn’t going to be a number on anybody’s napkin.

  ***

  It was almost two in the morning before the staff got the go-ahead to call it a night and Beth sighed in relief as she yanked out the elastic holding her hair back and tossed it into the trash. It had been one hell of a night.

  Kevin Kowalski was persistent, she’d give him that. She’d sucked it up and presented him with nothing but bland professionalism until he’d seemed to catch the hint. Still, every time her gaze landed on him—which was a lot more often than she cared to admit—he’d been watching her. When they dropped the lights, signaling to the stragglers the party was over and it was time to get the hell out, he’d given her one last inviting look. She’d turned her back, making busy with a buspan, and when she turned around, he was gone.

  The payphone beckoned, waiting for her to call a cab to take her home to her bed, but first she snuck out the back door and walked down toward the water. The grounds were beautiful and now, with the twinkling party lights off, the moon dancing across the water beckoned. It was quiet, soothing her frazzled nerves.

  “You look beautiful in the moonlight.”

  She didn’t scream, but her heart seized in her chest like a blown engine. Because he startled her, of course, not because of the words Kevin said in a voice a man usually used with a woman who was naked under him.

  He was sitting on one of the stone walls with a half-empty bottle of beer, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. The jacket, bowtie and cummerbund had been abandoned somewhere and the white dress shirt was unbuttoned, baring his chest to the chilly night air. She tried not to give him the satisfaction of looking, but the expanse of chest led to taut abs she’d have to be dead not to want to run her hands over.

  To his credit, he didn’t gloat at being so obviously ogled. He reached down under his legs and picked up an unopened beer. After twisting off the top, he held it out to her.

  She shouldn’t. Even though she was off the clock, she was an employee and he was a guest. But there was something so lonely about the way he looked—unlike his usual life-of-the-party self—she couldn’t bring herself to refuse and walk away.

  “Thanks.” She sat farther down the wall and took a sip of the ice-cold beer. Cloaked in the shadows, watching the moonlight ripple across the water, she had no idea what to say.

  Then he grinned at her and, even in the dark, she could see those impish dimples. “Did your boss tell you we tried to get you free for a dance?”

  “Oh my God, what did you do?” Though it wasn’t really his fault she’d lost her last job, if she got fired again because he stuck his nose in her business, she might need a restraining order just to stay employed.

  “Joe—the groom and my oldest brother—asked your boss if you could leave the bar long enough for a dance. She refused, so he offered to pay extra. Then she got really snooty and informed us this isn’t a dance hall and the young ladies in her employ are not for private hire.”

  His fake, snooty old-lady voice made her laugh, despite her utter disbelief at what they’d done. “And why would Joe do that?”

  “Because I wanted to dance with you.”

  The stark simplicity of his response made her shiver, and the tingle of desire mixed with leftover warm and fuzzies made for a dangerous combination. “I counted at least a dozen women who would have danced with you free of charge.”

  His eyes were serious when he looked at her again. “I’m not that guy.”

  “What guy?”

  “The guy you think I am.”

  The only thing she knew for sure about him was that she was trying like hell not to want him and doing a piss-poor job of it. “I don’t think anything. I barely know you.”

  “Dance with me now.”

  She laughed and it sounded loud in the still night. “I haven’t danced in years.”

  He put down his beer, then took her hand and pulled her into his arms. She set her bottle on the wall so she wouldn’t spill it down his back. She’d tried resisting him, but it was a lost cause and wrapping her arms around those broad shoulders was inevitable.

  As her hands clasped behind his neck, his arms circled her waist and pulled her close. “You don’t dance in your kitchen? You know, when you’re all alone?”

  “No. I don’t dance in my kitchen, even when nobody’s looking.”

  “You should. It’s good for the soul.”

  No, good for the soul was swaying in his arms to the rustling, chirping music of the night as the water-reflected moonlight rippled over them. Okay, maybe not good for the soul, but it sure as hell was good for her body.

  “Are you going to get all prickly on me if I try to kiss you?”

  She tilted her head back so she could see his face. “I guess that depends on how well you kiss.”

  Kevin’s eyes smoldered at the challenge—and invitation—and he threaded his fingers through her hair so he could tilt her head to just the right angle. Her eyes slid closed and she sighed—a soft, breathy sound she couldn’t believe she’d made—as he touched his mouth to hers.

  The man could kiss and, as the aching desire of the present wrapped up with the steamy memory of her dreams, her body practically trembled with need.

  “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered against her mouth.

  Some logical voice in the back of her mind wanted to argue against staying, but she didn’t want to hear it. “Yes.”

  He took her by the hand and, after they grabbed their beer bottles, they raced across the manicured lawn. They slowed down in the hall, where she hoped they wouldn’t run into any of the staff as they dumped the bottles in the trash, and then tried their best to behave in the elevator.

  Kevin managed to unlock and open the door to his room one-handed, his other hand still holding hers, then he closed it behind them and pressed her up against the wood.

  “Watching you tonight and not being able to touch you was killing me,” he said, and then lowered his mouth to hers.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and lost herself in the kiss, aware that even as his tongue danced over hers, he was slowly and not so stealthily trying to unbutton her shirt one-handed. It had been way too long since she’d been kissed, never mind had a man’s hand on her, so she pushed his hand aside to hurry it along. As his tongue brushed hers and their breath mingled, she unbuttoned her shirt and then slid her fingertips under his, feeling the solid muscles twitch under her touch.

  Then his hands were on her shoulders, sliding her shirt off, and she let him go so it could drop to the floor. She dropped her bra after it. His gaze raked over her, the look in his eyes as smoldering hot as his touch.

  His shirt joined hers at their feet as he stripped down to just his pants and then, before she was quite finished admiring the broad expanse of naked chest, his hands and mouth were on her again. When he lifted her off the ground, she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on to his neck.

  His kiss grew more urgent and she couldn’t stop her moan when he backed her up against the door. With the cool wood against her
skin and his hips between her thighs, her body trembled in anticipation.

  Kevin licked his way down to her breasts, where his tongue flicked across one nipple, and then the other. “You are so…freakin’…hot.”

  She didn’t want to talk. She wanted those hips moving against hers as they had while they danced in the moonlight, but without any clothes between them.

  As if he could read her thoughts, he turned and started toward the bed. She laughed when he dropped her onto the mattress, but the sound died in her throat when he dropped his pants and boxer briefs in one smooth motion.

  Oh yes, staying was definitely the right decision.

  Ten minutes later, he had her naked too, and so desperate she was horrified when a frustrated growling sound tore from her throat. He only chuckled and kept right on teasing her—kissing and licking and touching her, but never quite enough to give her what her body yearned for.

  Finally, just about the time she was sure she’d go mad, Beth heard the tell-tale crinkle of a condom wrapper being torn open.

  He settled himself between her thighs and rested his weight on his forearms so he could look down at her. His smile was warm, but his face was flushed and naughtiness lurked in his gaze.

  For a second she thought he was going to tease her some more, which might make her scream, but he kissed her instead. Beth threaded her fingers through his hair as he reached one hand down between their bodies and finally gave her what she wanted.

  They both moaned as he slid into her, the sound mingling on their joined lips. He moved slowly, with short, gentle strokes and she raised her hips to meet them. She savored the sweet friction of every thrust as he murmured in her ear—telling her how hot she was and how amazing it felt and how he never wanted it to end.

  As his pace quickened, Beth ran her hands over his back, reveling in the light sheen of sweat and the way his muscles rippled under her touch. She was drowning in the intensity of his blue eyes and she closed her eyes as the long-awaited orgasm took hold. He thrust harder and she heard him groan as he found his own release.