Sweet as Sin

by J. T. Geissinger

  Which suited me just fine. All in all, things were looking up.

  “How do you think Barney’s doing? I’m a little worried about him.”

  Nico’s deep chuckle vibrated his chest. “Why, because he’s followin’ you around like your shadow or because of his back?”

  He’d sustained injuries to several of the discs in his back from the car crash, and now walked with a distinctive limp. So far it hadn’t deterred him from making himself a complete nuisance, sticking almost as close to my side as Nico did. I had a pair of bookends beside me wherever I went.

  “Because he takes his job too seriously. The man has no private life, and he never takes time off. Don’t you think that’s unhealthy?”

  “We’re the only family he has, Kat,” said Nico softly, trailing his fingers up my arm. “He considers me his brother, and he loves you like the little sister he never had. Him bein’ the way he is, he feels responsible he didn’t figure it out sooner that Michael had everyone’s places bugged.”

  “But he did figure it out, and not only that, he turned it to your advantage! He has nothing to feel guilty for. He’s awesome.”

  I didn’t understand all the technical particulars, but somehow Barney had used the software Michael had installed in our phones in reverse to track Michael’s location. When he tapped in to listen to a call, Barney could see where he was. Which was how when Chloe called me that morning to see how I was doing, Barney discovered Michael was lurking right down the street from Grace’s. Barney had never gone to my house first, like he’d told me. He just knew Michael was listening to our conversation, and hoped to smuggle me out of the house before Michael decided to make a move. Nico had been waiting to pounce with the police nearby, but Michael, with his suspicious nature, figured out the clothes drop for the red herring it was and beat him to it.

  “Hmm,” said Nico, sounding disgruntled. “So Barney gets all the credit for comin’ to your rescue, does he? Your man thinkin’ to track you to Malibu usin’ the GPS on your cell phone doesn’t count for much in the knight in shinin’ armor department?”

  I snuggled closer to the heat and safe solidity of Nico’s body, inhaling his warm, spicy scent. I trailed my foot up his calf. “Yes, it definitely gets you credit, sweetie.” I paused. “Though to be honest, I still might be a little pissed about all those brunettes. And that everyone in the world thinks I took you back without a fuss after you’d gone on a humping rampage across Los Angeles.”

  “Not like they could blame me, after the shitty way you dumped my ass.”

  I shoved at his chest. “Nico!”

  He dipped his head and playfully bit my shoulder. “Kat!”

  Pretending to pout, I rolled away. Nico prevented my escape by grabbing me around the waist and hauling me atop his naked body.

  Just as I’d planned.

  I grinned down at him. “You’re so easy, sweetie.”

  “Oh yeah? ’Cause I’d describe myself as hard.” He flexed his hips to underscore his prominent erection. I’d nicknamed it Mr. Happy due to all the joy it evoked.

  “Speaking of which . . . we never did take one of those baths you told me you liked so much.” When I coyly batted my lashes, he laughed, and squeezed me.

  “Oh, yeah? Twice in two hours and she’s still not satisfied? Now she wants to do it in the bathtub?”

  I rolled my eyes. “If you’re going to start with the ‘she’ business again, you won’t get lucky at all, mister.”

  He pinched my bare behind. “And if you’re gonna start with the smart mouth again,” he said in a husky voice, “you won’t be sittin’ right for a week, woman.”

  I nearly squee’d in glee. “Promises, promises.”

  Nico’s eyes grew hot. “You tellin’ me I haven’t been takin’ care of business, darlin’? You missin’ out on somethin’ you been needin’?”

  I bit my lip and made my eyes go big and dreamy, in the way I knew he couldn’t resist. “Let’s just say I’ve been very, very bad. And I need you to make it all better.”

  Faster than I could blink, Nico scooped me into his arms, and tossed me over his shoulder. He headed for the enormous master bathroom with its spacious infinity tub. “Careful what you wish for, baby,” he said, and gave my ass a brisk swat.

  I held out my hand, enjoying the sparkle of the enormous diamond on my ring finger, and grinned.

  Yes, things were definitely looking up.

  “Come on, lovey, suck it in! You know the drill; it’s not like we haven’t been through this before!”

  I stared at Kenji’s reflection in the wall of mirrors as he stood behind me in the dressing room of the bridal salon, tugging in frustration at the reluctant zipper of the elaborate gown I was trying on. “I hate to disappoint you, Kenji, but I’m not wearing anything to my wedding that even slightly resembles that sausage casing you stuffed me into for the band’s video. This zipper is trying to tell us something. As in, give it up, sister, the carbs have finally won.”

  His scoff sounded as if he was trying to expel something lodged in his throat. “I won’t be defeated by twelve inches of tiny metal teeth! You’re wearing Monique Lhuillier when you walk down that aisle, Kitty Kat, or nothing at all!”

  Grace, with crystal champagne flute in hand, sat beside Chloe on a white tufted sofa nearby, her feet propped on a mirrored coffee table covered in bridal couture books. Smiling, she said, “Somehow I doubt Nico would object to that.”

  Chloe frowned. “I’m still unclear on this. Why exactly is wearing a Monique Lhuillier dress so important?”

  Hands on hips, Kenji straightened and glared at the offending zipper. “Because that’s the designer Kat wore the day she met Nico. It’s good luck.”

  “I thought the good luck was supposed to be, ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue’?”

  Kenji waved his hand. “Those, too. But in the theater community it’s considered good luck to wear the same thing for a callback that you wore to the original audition. So I’m including as many good-luck superstitions as I can for this wedding. Because if this morning is any indication, we’re going to need as much help as we can get.”

  Chloe snorted. “In that case, Kat should be wearing flip-flops, a denim mini, and a shirt that’s losing the fight with her cleavage.”

  “Thank you, Joan Rivers.” I turned to and fro on the carpeted riser, examining my reflection. It was too bad about the zipper, because the dress was incredibly beautiful. But I was determined to be comfortable on the happiest day of my life, even if I did have to wear a denim mini.

  “You’re welcome, Dolly Parton,” replied Chloe. To Kenji, she said with interest, “You used to be in the theater?”

  He turned to look at her with raised brows. “What, you thought I used to be a mechanic?”

  She looked him up and down, examining his red silk vest, leopard-print tie, and white skinny jeans. “I was thinking more along the lines of magician. You have the look of a man who could pull a rabbit out of his hat.”

  Though I wasn’t convinced it was a compliment, Kenji beamed. “Oh, honey, that’s so sweet!”

  Grace hid her smile behind her glass of champagne.

  Into the pristine dressing room glided a saleswoman so thin she’d be invisible if she turned sideways. She had a slash of crimson lips, blonde hair scraped into a severe bun at the nape of her neck, and so much mascara it looked as if two hairy tarantulas were perched on her eyelids. “And how are we doing? Anything else I can get you? Different selections? More champagne?”

  Looking at my rear end, Kenji muttered, “Spanx?”

  Grace said calmly, “Shut up, Kenji, or I’ll hide your lip gloss and tell everyone those Prada boots you’re wearing are knockoffs from Payless.”

  He gasped.

  I ignored them both. “Unfortunately, the last few dresses I’ve tried on have been a bit too tight, so maybe I could try a few more one size larger? This same general style?”

  The tarantulas on the sale
swoman’s eyelids fluttered. “Of course. I’ll be right back.” She turned and silently glided out.

  Chloe watched her go. “Poor thing. When was the last time she’s eaten, do you think?”

  Grace laughed. “I don’t know about eating, but hearing Kat say, ‘one size larger,’ looked as if it might drive her to drink.”

  I gathered the heavy silk skirts of the dress and stepped off the platform. “Speaking of, give me some of that champagne. I’m going to need it to get through the rest of this afternoon. Shopping for wedding dresses is about as much fun as getting a Brazilian wax.”

  The four of us had already been in the swanky Beverly Hills salon for hours. Nico and I had finally chosen a wedding date—August fifteenth, the one-year anniversary of the day we’d met—and the preparations were quickly moving forward. It had been a month since Bad Habit’s wildly successful EuroTrash tour had ended and we’d returned home to LA, and those weeks had been the happiest of my life.

  Today excepted. I’d never been a clotheshorse, and I’d guessed—correctly—that finding a wedding dress I could stand, sit, eat, and dance in, while simultaneously flattering my figure, would be like the quest for the holy grail. On top of that, the guest list had somehow swelled to close to four hundred people. I’d already floated the idea of eloping to Vegas to Nico, who gave me a look I correctly interpreted as “over my dead body.” He had his heart set on a grand, romantic, fairy-tale white wedding at the Hotel Bel-Air, complete with a horse-drawn carriage for my arrival, an orchestra to serenade us as we said our vows, and a dove release at the end of the ceremony.

  I thought his enthusiasm was adorable. He was even interviewing photographers and pastry chefs himself, determined to make sure every detail was perfect.

  I was happy to let him go crazy with the planning, but I’d put my foot down about the horse-drawn carriage. It was way too Disney princess for my taste. We’d compromised on a stretch limo. That way I could arrive with my three bridesmaids in style; Kenji was already obsessing over how he was going to accessorize his outfit to coordinate with the gorgeous sage-green gowns Chloe and Grace would wear. I had a feeling he might end up rocking one of those gowns himself.

  Now if only I could find a wedding dress that didn’t pinch, pucker, or require me to hold my breath for eight hours, we’d all be good.

  Guzzling the remainder of Grace’s champagne, I wondered if Juicy Couture made wedding attire. Getting married in velour sweatpants was starting to sound like a fabulous idea.

  Kenji’s cell phone rang. He looked at the screen, then answered it with a shout. “No! Absolutely not! It’s bad luck!”

  Chloe, Grace, and I shared a look.

  Kenji listened for a moment. He glanced in my direction. Finally, looking resigned, he sighed. “You’re right outside, aren’t you?”

  “Yep,” said a voice I recognized from just beyond the doorway to the dressing room. Holding his cell phone to his ear, Nico peeked around the corner, caught sight of me, and broke into a huge grin.

  “Ah, yes, the relentless stalker strikes again,” said Grace, rolling her eyes.

  Chloe smiled. “I’m actually surprised it took him this long.” She said to Nico, “That was, like, three hours Kat was out of your sight. Were you already having withdrawals?”

  Sliding his phone into his back pocket, Nico stepped into the room. His gaze swept over me. His cocky grin softened to a tender smile. “Can you blame me? Look at her. This woman’s picture is next to the word ‘beauty’ in the dictionary. I still can’t believe I get to wake up next to her every day.”

  “Sweet talker.” I smiled back at him.

  He murmured, “God’s honest truth, baby. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

  Chloe sighed in happiness. Grace rolled her eyes again and took another swig of her champagne. Kenji took the opportunity to swat Nico on the arm and chastise him for intruding on the sacred female ritual of wedding dress shopping.

  “You’re here, brother. Pretty sure your parts don’t qualify you as a female.” Nico strolled over to me. I held out a hand and he kissed it, then laid a swift, potent kiss on my lips.

  “My parts, as you so eloquently put it, have absolutely nothing to do with anything. You should know well enough by now that Kenji will not be defined by something so limiting as gender stereotypes. We refuse to be shoved into such a dreary conventional box.”

  I squeezed Nico’s hand. “Uh-oh. Referring to himself in the third person and the royal ‘we.’ You’ve really pissed him off now, sweetie.”

  Nico chuckled. Before anyone could say another word, there was a grumbling noise from the next room, followed by a loud, irritated voice. “No, I don’t want a glass of fucking champagne! And eat a hamburger, woman, a stiff breeze could blow you away.”

  Grimacing, Chloe looked at Nico. “Great. You brought Prince Charming with you.”

  “Yeah, well, Prince Charming has agreed to be my best man, so I thought it would be a good idea if you girls and A.J. got to know each other better.”

  “The best man? He’s going to be in the wedding?” Distressed, Chloe looked to me.

  Nico and I had only just agreed yesterday, after a long discussion, that A.J. would be the best man. I hadn’t managed yet to bring it up to my bridesmaids. I had my doubts about him, but the entire time the band was on tour, he’d been nothing but polite to me, if distant. Nico had made it clear that I had the final word, but if A.J. was his choice, I didn’t feel it was right to object simply because we’d had one strange encounter at Avery’s funeral, a day that everyone had been out of sorts. And I’d made Nico promise to talk to him about being nicer to Chloe.

  My fingers were crossed that A.J. could play nice. Judging by his current mood, I was having my doubts.

  “You don’t have to walk down the aisle with him, Chloe.”

  Grace said, “I guess that honor’s reserved for me, then.” She didn’t sound particularly concerned. I knew she could handle him.

  “Well, you can bet he’s not going to want to walk down the aisle with me,” said Kenji, examining his manicure, “seeing as how he’ll look like an unchained beast by comparison.”

  Nico raised his brows, and Kenji shrugged. “You know I love him, Nico, but honestly the man has all the style of a gorilla.”

  “And the charm,” muttered Chloe, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “He’ll probably show up in head-to-toe leather,” continued Kenji breezily, “in which case I will personally wring his neck.”

  “Good luck with that, Pixie Dust.”

  Dwarfing the doorway, A.J. stood just outside the entrance to the dressing room, gazing at Kenji with a faint smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. Or maybe I’d just imagined the smile, because as soon as his amber eyes flicked in the direction of Chloe, his face hardened, his body stiffened, and he tilted back his head, looking at her down his nose.

  Chloe paled, but Kenji didn’t seem to notice the change. “I do adore it when you call me by your pet names, lovey, but ‘Pixie Dust’ is a tad hostile, even for you.”

  A.J. turned his attention back to Kenji. His faint smile returned. “Would you prefer ‘Tinker Bell’?”

  For some reason, Kenji blushed.

  “Don’t tease him, A.J.,” said Nico, hiding his own smile. “I doubt you’d like it if I shared with everyone the nickname Heavenly calls you.”

  I said, “Am I missing something here?”

  Nico wound his arm around my waist. “Seems everyone’s favorite stylist went and found himself a special friend while we weren’t lookin’.”

  Grace said, “A special friend who calls you Tinker Bell?”

  Chloe said, “Heavenly?”

  Kenji shrugged, looking bashfully at the floor. “London and I met the night of the party at the House of Blues.”

  Grace and I shared a look, and I knew she was thinking what I was thinking: is London male or female?

  “I don’t remember seeing you at all that night,” I said.

/>   “Well, lovey, we met on the way in.” He paused. “And then we turned around and went back out.”

  Grace laughed. “Oh, my. It seems Nico and Kat aren’t the only ones who found love at first sight.”

  Kenji’s blush grew deeper, spreading from his cheeks to his ears. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” He giggled. “Lust at first sight, definitely. In fact, you could say London had me at herro.”

  “Ugh. That one was a real groaner, Kenji.”

  “Speaking of groaners,” piped up Chloe, “I’m betting anyone named ‘Heavenly’ has the market cornered on that. What do you think, Grace?”

  A.J. snapped, “She probably thinks anyone named ‘Chloe’ has the market cornered on stuck-up, frigid rich girls who wouldn’t know a dick if it hit them in the face.”

  Chloe managed not to holler, but only just. “Which I’m guessing is probably how girls named ‘Heavenly’ spend most of their time!”

  A.J. stepped inside the dressing room, Chloe shot to her feet, and the two of them squared off and started to hurl insults at each other. The saleswoman appeared in the doorway holding several gowns. She took one look inside, turned around, and went back the way she came. I sighed, Grace watched the back and forth in amusement from her spot on the sofa, and, beside me, Nico shook his head.

  “Well,” he said, tightening his arm around me, “I can see that talk I had with A.J. on the way over had zero effect. Should be an interestin’ next few months.”

  “Interesting is one way to put it. Insane is another.”

  My mouth dropped open when Chloe threw the remains of her champagne in A.J.’s face. She stormed out of the room through the main door. Cursing, A.J. barreled through a door at the back.