I study the stunningly beautiful women glaring at us from a nearby table that has two empty seats – obviously ours – and try to figure out who he’s talking about. ‘Which one?’
‘Caroline,’ he mutters, now scanning the room. I have no idea what he’s looking for, but I’m finally figuring out the problem.
‘Let me guess,’ I say, giving him a comforting pat on his shoulder. ‘She’s tried to Four Weddings and a Funeral you, hasn’t she?’
He turns his head, smiling down at me, those blue eyes so gorgeous I get a little light headed staring up at them. ‘You’ve lost me,’ he says with another soft, rugged laugh.
‘You know, the old Hugh Grant movie, where he shows up at wedding number two and finds his table filled with ex-girlfriends.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen it –’ he takes my arm and starts walking us away from the table, toward the far side of the room – ‘but the nightmare sounds right.’
‘Let’s just find somewhere else to sit,’ I suggest, unwilling to let Caroline ruin our night by being such a vicious twat. At least that’s what Lola would call her, and I think it definitely fits. Unfortunately, the room is packed, and we can’t see any other available seats. But Jase has gone out of his way to make sure I had a good time today, and no way in hell am I going to let it end like this. I take a moment to study the room, then get an idea and say, ‘Hold tight. I’ll be right back.’
‘Emmy, wait!’ he calls out after me, but I’m already slipping through one of the side doors that the staff are using. It only takes me a moment to find two waiters who are willing to help me, and a minute later they’re carrying a small table and two chairs from the terrace into a corner of the ballroom.
‘Wanna share a cozy table for two with me?’ I ask Jase with a cheeky grin as he comes over, and he takes my hand, lifting it to his smiling mouth.
‘I’d like nothing more,’ he says against my palm, and I swear the heat of his lips as he presses a kiss to the sensitive flesh shoots straight to my core. It’s a wave of heat that has me melting with need, and I let out a shaky breath, hoping the riot in my body isn’t blasting across my face like a neon sign.
We take our seats and pretend we’re oblivious to the fact that nearly everyone in the teeming ballroom is staring at us. Signaling one of the wait staff, Jase asks me, ‘What would you like to drink?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure. What are you having?’
‘A cola.’ My thoughts must show on my face, because he gives a wry laugh. ‘You’ve met Alistair, Em. It can’t be that much of a shock that I don’t drink much.’
Oh. Wow. I’m surprised . . . but then, I guess I shouldn’t be. With each hour that’s passed by today, I’ve learned that this man sitting across from me has deeper layers than I would have ever believed was possible. He might look the part, but he’s no one-dimensional, money-hungry player, and I’m ashamed that I tried to peg him as one without knowing a single thing about him. Thinking that I have some issues I clearly need to work through, I tell him, ‘Actually, a soda sounds great to me too.’
His brows knit together for a moment, and then he sighs and leans back in his chair. ‘Emmy, I’m a grown man. You don’t need to worry about me. At least not about this.’ A slow, sin-laced grin begins to kick up the corner of his mouth. ‘Save me from as many snarling exes and evil stepmothers as you can, but don’t worry about drinking if you want to, because you’re a grown woman who can make her own choices. If you want a drink, then let me get you one.’
‘Oh. Um, sorry,’ I whisper, fiddling with my napkin as I feel my face start to heat. Somehow, I feel like I might have insulted him, when I was only trying to be nice.
‘Nothing to be sorry for,’ he murmurs, the warm tone of his voice helping me to relax. ‘Now, what would you really like?’
‘A white wine please.’
‘You got it,’ he says, and as he gives our order to the waiter who comes over, I force myself to take a deep breath and chill. And Jase makes it easy to do as we start talking about casual things, like whether we should have the beef or the chicken, and placing bets on what the wedding song will be. I go with Ed Sheeran’s ‘Thinking Out Loud’. It’s not one of my favorites of his, but I’ve heard it’s popular at weddings. Jase chooses Pearl Jam’s ‘Just Breathe’, and I’m frustrated I didn’t go with that one, since it is one of my favorites. But as much as I like Lottie, I feel the lyrics would be wasted on Oliver, and I really hope that Jase is wrong.
‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you all day,’ I say quietly, as our dessert plates are being carried away. ‘What’s the story with Lottie and Oliver?’
‘What do you mean?’ The question is innocent enough, but the guarded look in his dark eyes tells me he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
‘Come on, Jase. Have you paid any attention to them today? They don’t exactly act like two people who are thrilled about tying the knot together.’
‘They’re smiling,’ he points out, tilting his head toward the table where they’re sitting with Alistair, Caroline, Oliver’s mother and brother, and Lottie’s elderly aunt and uncle.
I snort as I shake my head. ‘True. But if you think those smiles are genuine – especially Lottie’s – then I’ve got some prime real estate in Florida to sell you. It’s, like, totally choice and an awesome investment.’
His head goes back as he laughs out loud, his tanned, corded throat drawing my eye. It’s a husky, infectious sound – one that’s as sexy as everything else about him – and it attracts a fresh wave of attention to our little corner table for two, the table of exes casting venomous glares our way. I want to warn the poor girls that scowling like that will give them premature wrinkles, but resist the urge, since it would mean having to talk to them. And I plan to avoid that lot the way a vegan avoids a juicy ribeye.
With the meal over, everyone heads outside for drinks on the terrace, while a string quartet plays down in the garden, the warm night lit by thousands of fairy lights. Caroline Beckett might be a raging bitch, but whoever she hired to plan and decorate for the wedding has done an amazing job.
Stopping at only one glass of wine, I’m about to take my first sip of a steaming caramel cappuccino when a man I haven’t seen until now heads our way. After he and Jase exchange what can only be described as a bro-hug, clapping each other hard on the back, Jase introduces the handsome American as Callan Hathaway. I learn that they went to university together at Oxford, and I imagine they had their choice of the girls there, seeing as how they’re both drop-dead gorgeous. But whereas Jase is all rugged sophistication, Callan, who lives in New York, looks like he’d be better suited on the back of a Harley, with the wind blowing through his bronze, shaggy hair that has a bit of a curl to it. He wears a thick beard and must be nearly six-five, so about an inch or two taller than Jase, and he’s built like a Viking warrior. I should probably be intimidated by the sheer size of him, but his brown eyes are warm and friendly, and he’s got a killer smile, as well as a great sense of humor, so it’s fun to hang out with him and Jase as they catch up together.
It’s a lovely summer night, and the three of us eventually take our drinks to a table in the garden, some of the other guests doing the same, and I can’t help but notice that Callan can’t keep his eyes off Lottie, who is sitting at a nearby table with her aunt and uncle (they’re the only guests here who seem to be hers, other than a few of the bridesmaids). Callan’s stare is hot and hungry, as if he’d like nothing more than to strip the soon-to-be bride’s slim body of the little black dress she’s wearing and get personally acquainted with every inch of her fair skin. But there’s also a touch of concern in the way he looks at her, and I wonder if he thinks she’s making as big of a mistake as I do. And Jase as well, I suspect, though he still hasn’t admitted it.
Just as the wind starts to blow a bit too cool for my liking, Jase and Callan get caught up with some MP his father has brought over to our table, so I excuse myself and head inside.
Using one of the downstairs powder rooms, I freshen up my lipstick, make sure my mascara isn’t running, and then head back out into the spacious hallway. The door to the room across the way is open, and I can see what looks like walls of books, so I peek inside and find a breathtaking library. It’s the kind of place where I could get lost for hours, and I’m wondering how soon I can get Jase to give me a tour when I turn and walk smack into Cameron Beckett.
Ugh. I’d honestly thought Oliver was bad, until I met his older brother. Cameron hadn’t arrived until late that afternoon, and as Jase introduced us, I could tell that the tall, well-built, good-looking Brit was jealous as hell of his younger cousin. I knew Jase had just turned thirty-two a month ago, but Cameron looks closer to forty. It should have lent him some maturity, but he has the cocky swagger of an adolescent. And the way he’s smirking down at me has the fine hairs on my skin standing on end.
‘Jase normally tires of new pussy within a few hours, but you’ve lasted a whole day,’ he murmurs, standing so close that I can smell the heavy scent of his aftershave and the vodka on his breath. ‘That’s impressive.’
‘Aw, aren’t you sweet,’ I say, refusing to let this jerk intimidate me.
The corner of his mouth kicks up even higher. ‘You’re something else, aren’t you?’
‘And what are you, Cameron?’
He gives a gritty laugh, but there’s no humor in it. ‘What have you heard?’
The ego pulsing off him is insane, but ego I know how to handle. What makes me wary is the darkness lingering behind his sharp smile. This guy has so many secrets inside him, you can see them hiding in his eyes, and I try to sidestep around him, but he latches on to my arms, stopping me in my tracks. His grip is tight enough that I have to fight to keep from letting the discomfort show on my face.
‘What in the hell—’ I start to snarl, but he cuts me off by hauling me up against him and smashing his mouth over mine. I react on instinct, slamming my knee up into his balls so hard I’m pretty sure he’s going to be walking funny for at least a week. ‘You stupid little bitch,’ he hisses, lowering one hand to cradle his testicles. I have no idea where he’s going with this, or why he’s doing it, until I see the smile that curls his lips when he slowly turns his head and looks over his shoulder.
‘You know,’ he drawls, seeming to inflate with victory even as I’m shoving against his shoulders, ‘if you were better at pleasing your women, cousin, then they wouldn’t have to come begging me for it.’
Oh, shit. I instantly understand exactly what this is: an asshole’s stupid power play, and he’s trying to use me as the pawn!
‘Get your goddamn hands off her,’ Jase says in a low, menacing voice, and I stomp on Cameron’s stupid loafer as I shove against his chest and wrench to my right, peering around him. Jase stands no more than ten feet away, his big hands fisted at his sides, looking like he could easily tear a man apart with them, and I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life. His dark eyes burn with a hot, angry glow, his words clipped as he says, ‘Don’t make me tell you twice, Cam.’
Cameron’s chest shakes with another gritty laugh as he releases me, and I take an instinctive step back from him, wanting to get as far away as I can. Then Caroline suddenly comes through one of the doors at Jase’s right, her red lips curling in a malicious smile as she takes in the scene. ‘What’s going on? Is the little American tramp causing problems?’
Jase completely ignores her, his blue eyes locked hard on mine. ‘Emmy, come here.’
He doesn’t have to tell me twice, either. As I quickly move around Cameron, the idiot says, ‘I’m serious, man. She’s the one who came on to me.’
I reach Jase, and he immediately lifts his hands to my face, studying me, his thumbs gently brushing across my cheeks. Once he’s sure that I’m all right, he scowls at his cousin. ‘If you’d bothered to talk to her, then you’d know just how fucking stupid this was. You’re the last kind of man Emmy would want anything to do with.’ His voice is rough with anger, and he cuts a disgusted look from his cousin to Caroline, who he clearly thinks was in on it.
‘Since when do women not like rich men?’ she asks with a brittle laugh.
Given what he knows about me, I think Jase would probably have a good laugh at that as well, if he weren’t so pissed off. But he is. I can feel the fury blasting from his big, powerful body in blistering waves. ‘Come near her again,’ he warns, ‘and you’ll both wish to God that you hadn’t.’
Then he grabs my hand and tugs me along with him as he heads toward the front of the house.
‘Are you really okay?’ he asks, the second we’re out of the back hallway. ‘He didn’t hurt you, did he?’
The concern in his deep voice makes me sigh with relief, but I still don’t want him having the wrong idea. ‘Jase, that was—’
‘Not your idea,’ he cuts in, sounding pissed again. ‘Trust me, Em, I know. The idiot tried to set us up, but he wasn’t smart enough to do his research first.’
‘He grabbed me before I could get around him.’
He pops his jaw a few times, and I can tell that he’s trying hard to retain control of his temper. ‘Did he hurt you?’ he asks again, sounding like he’s having to force the words through his gritted teeth.
I shake my head, stumbling a bit to keep up with him. ‘No, I’m fine. Really. But can you slow down a little?’
‘Shit, I’m sorry.’ He slows his pace, his chest rising and falling with a harsh breath. ‘I’m just trying to put some distance between us and him. It’s taking everything I’ve got not to go back there and beat his damn face in, family wedding or not.’
‘He isn’t worth it,’ I tell him, curling my free hand around the tense one he’s using to hold mine. ‘Just forget him.’
He blows out another jagged breath, then slants me a tight smile. ‘You nailed him in the balls so hard he was still green when I got there.’
I raise my brows. ‘Maybe you should remember that the next time you tick me off,’ I tease, hoping to make him laugh. When his chest shakes with a quiet rumble of amusement, I smile, letting him pull me up the wide staircase to the first floor, the sounds of the wedding guests fading to a distant murmur.
When we reach his bedroom, Jase locks the door behind us and heads straight to an antique bureau that houses a mini-bar. As he pours a drink, I wonder if he’s so angry he’s decided he needs to knock one back, but he turns and holds the tumbler out to me.
‘What is this?’ I ask, frowning down at the amber-colored, strong-smelling alcohol as I take the glass.
‘Whiskey.’
My lips quirk as I lift my gaze back to his. ‘Jase, I’m really not much of a drinker. Something this strong will probably kill me.’
‘You’re shivering,’ he grates, his expression tight as he crosses his arms over his chest and jerks his chin at the glass. ‘It’ll help.’
I don’t realize until he says it that I am literally shaking in my heels, my limbs vibrating with a fine tremor.
‘I’m not upset,’ I tell him. ‘It’s just leftover adrenaline.’ But I still do as he says and down the whiskey in one quick swallow. I manage to take a deep breath without coughing it all back up, though it burns like a bastard. As I set the glass on the small table that sits beside the chair, I feel the warmth hit my system, and it’s nice – but my body and thoughts are caught up in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, and the next thing I know, I’m saying, ‘He kissed me. That’s when I kneed him in the nuts.’
‘That son of a bitch,’ he growls, curling his battered right hand into a hard fist. ‘I should’ve smashed his fucking teeth in.’
‘No.’ I grab his hand with both of mine and pull it to my mouth. ‘Your hand has already had enough abuse because of me.’ And then I kiss his bruised knuckles, and his breath sucks in with a sharp hiss that sounds like a cannon in the quiet stillness of the room.
Oh, God. What am I doing? Slowly, I lift my head, looking up at him, and his dark eyes are v
olcanic blue in that breathtaking face, scorching and hot. ‘Jase,’ I whisper, and we each lunge for the other, grabbing and tugging, our bodies slamming together as he fists his hand in my hair and yanks my head back. He leans down, and then that beautiful, delicious mouth of his is on mine, kissing me like he needs to draw sustenance from my body – like I’m the next freaking breath in his lungs – and I love it. He only just started giving me what he’s giving me, and I’m already helplessly hooked on it. Already craving it like a junkie with her fix.
His free hand slides down my back, curving around my ass and pulling me tight against his rigid length as his tongue slides along mine, the taste and feel of him so damn addictive that I realize my nails are digging into his shoulders, trying to keep him right where he is. Then he moves both hands down to my thighs, hoisting me up as I wrap my legs around his lean hips, and I shove my hands into his silky hair as he carries me to the side of the bed, our mouths never once separating. Leaning over, he lays me down on the cashmere-covered duvet, my thighs automatically spreading even wider for him as he comes down between them, covering me with that rugged, powerful body.
My dress is bunched up around my waist, crinkling between us, and I couldn’t care less. All that matters is keeping his mouth on mine, but he pulls away as he braces himself over me on his muscular forearms, and he’s breathing hard as he stares down at me with that hooded, blistering gaze. Between my legs, his cock is diamond-hard and thick, and his hips give a deliberate roll that rubs him against my slick, lace-covered pussy, making us both moan like we’re in pain. But it’s just a raw, dark pleasure, and I put my hands behind his neck and pull him back down to me, turning my head so that I can press my lips against the rasp of dark stubble on his jaw, nipping it with my teeth.
He makes a purely savage sound in the back of his throat, and then his hungry mouth is back on mine as he thrusts against me, and I’m so desperate for him that I mewl. I freaking mewl! Who in the hell mewls?
Any woman who finds herself lucky enough to be under Jasper Beckett, a voice drawls in my head, and I almost laugh. If that’s my inner wild woman, she sure as hell took her sweet time making an appearance. I mean, I’m twenty-four, for crying out loud. Or maybe she’s been hibernating beneath a layer of ice all these years, and it’s taken this incredible man lying on top of me to thaw her out.
The Weekend Page 6