Falling for the Groomsman

by Diane Alberts

  “Come?” Kady squeaked, her face going pale. “Obviously he’s kidding.” She looked up at Colt. “Right?”

  “No,” Tyler said innocently, crossing his arms. “Why would I be kidding about something like that? Someone has to keep you two under control.”

  Kady’s eyes widened. “Yeah. Sorry. You’re not coming on our honeymoon.”

  Colt nodded. “I’m in full agreement with my soon-to-be wife.”

  “I know. I’m just teasing, of course.” He forced a shudder and threw in a dramatic gag for Kady’s enjoyment. “I have no intention of joining you on that trip.”

  She giggled. “Good.”

  “You got that right,” Colt said, grinning. “I love you and all, man, but there’s no way in hell you’re coming on my honeymoon.”

  Kady tucked her hair behind her ear and looked over her shoulder. “Did you say hi to Mom and Dad yet? They snuck into my bachelorette party, and are over in the left corner with Aunt Meredith, waving at me wildly. I think they’re telling us to come over.”

  “I haven’t had the chance.”

  His gaze sought out Christine again. She made her way to the door, but stopped to talk to a short woman Tyler didn’t recognize. Christine’s gaze collided with his before skittering away. Her cheeks flushed red, and she clung to her purse so tight it became a mangled mess in her hands.

  “Ugh. Come on.” Kady held her finger up to their parents. “We’ll go say hello to them, then I’ll see if I can round up the girls and the rest of the groomsmen for some real fun.”

  He started to follow her, but stopped. He hesitated, shifting on his feet. “Um…give me a second. I’ll catch up in a few.”

  “You can’t send me in there alone.”

  He backed up a tiny step, his eyes on the door. “I just need a second, okay?”

  She shot him a look, but he turned on his heel and followed Christine out the door as inconspicuously as he could manage. He crossed the room quickly, not wanting her to hit the elevator before he had a chance to catch up.

  After shoving through the doors, he came to an abrupt halt.

  Chapter Four

  Tyler stood there, his breath coming unevenly and his heart leaping at the sight of her. She leaned back against the wall, her eyes on her phone. She casually swiped her finger over the screen, clearly not concerned enough to look up and see who had followed her outside. Or maybe she already knew?

  Her wavy red hair tumbled down her shoulders¸ falling halfway down her back, and she continued silently chanting something. His fingers itched with the need to bury themselves inside her waves. To find out if her hair felt as good as he remembered.

  It couldn’t be. No one had hair that damned soft.

  She wore a black dress that fell above the knee, and a pair of red heels that belonged over a man’s head, not on the ground. No. Scratch that. Not any man’s head.

  His head.

  When she bit down on her plump pink lip, a fist of desire clenched in his gut, squeezing tight. Shit. Forcing himself to stop checking her out like a starved man looking at a steak dinner, he cleared his throat. Christine startled and her eyes focused, zeroing in on him within seconds.

  She fisted her hands and her gaze dipped low. He forced himself to stand still and let her look her fill, just as he had with her. And, fuck, did she look.

  Her gaze skimmed over him, seemingly taking in every detail. When she bit down harder on her lip, her cheeks becoming suffused with a charming blush, his stomach tightened in response. She met his eyes again; he forced himself to smile in what he hoped was a casual manner and didn’t come across as I must have you.

  “Hey, Red.”

  She stiffened, returning her attention to her damn phone. “It’s Christine.”

  “Not to me.” He shrugged. She’d liked his nickname for her in Mexico, but she didn’t anymore? Oh well. He liked it, so he’d use it. He’d called her Red for the obvious reason—her hair—but also because of her fiery spirit and the way she blushed whenever he’d come too close to her. Just like she was doing now. “To me, you’ll always be Red.”

  “Oh, how cute.” She cocked her head and offered him a fake smile. Oh, she didn’t mean for it look that way, but he knew when someone was faking it. As an ER doctor he dealt with liars daily. He knew when someone was bullshitting him. “But you lost the right to have any cute little names for me when you left me that night.”

  And there they were, at the heart of their issue. Had he expected any less? Her straight talking is what made her such a damn good investigative journalist. She wouldn’t waste any time getting to the good stuff. “Yeah. I’m sorry I did that.”

  “I got that message when you ran away from me mumbling ‘Oh my God’ over and over again,” she drawled, slipping her phone into her small purse. “But thanks for the late apology.”

  He flinched. “That was the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done, I’ll admit it. But I went down there to protect you girls, not to fuck one of you.”

  She crossed her arms and gave him an appraising look. “Looks like I won the unexpected prize package then, huh?”

  “No.” He eyed her. He could read her like a book. She intimidated people by being on the offensive, making them back down. It wouldn’t work with him. “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”

  “Not really. I do know, though, that when you’re about to come, you close your eyes and your fingers tighten on my hair before you tug—”

  “Jesus.” His stomach clenched and he took a step toward her, but pulled himself short. “How the hell do you remember that shit?”

  “I have a good memory.” She crossed her arms and grinned. “Once I see or feel something, I never forget.”

  “Maybe you need to,” Tyler said, thinking of her photographic memory of him running away like a scared fucking pansy in Mexico. “Some things aren’t worth remembering.”

  Her smile slipped a little, but she forced it back into place. What game was she playing? “I remember it all, you know. Do you?”

  Did she remember all of those details? It had been eight years. Sure, he remembered them, too, but that was different. He’d been older and completely sober. “Weren’t you too drunk to remember your name, let alone what we did?”

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he wanted to take them back. He felt like an ass for having sex with her when she was under the influence in the first place. The last thing he needed was to remind her he’d done it. Stupid asshole.

  She laughed, tossing her head back. “Actually, I wasn’t drunk at all.”

  “You had three drinks.” He looked her up and down. “At your age and your size, you would have been at an approximately 0.28 percent blood alcohol concentration, which is way beyond drunk. I was a jerk for taking advantage of you, and I’m sorry.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and averted her eyes. “That’s an awfully detailed calculation. Thought about it much over the years?”

  “You could say that.” He clenched his jaw. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”

  “Well, save your apologies for someone else.” She lifted a shoulder. “You had three drinks. I was too distracted watching you to drink, so there’s no guilt needed. I didn’t even drink that night.”

  How had he missed her not finishing her drinks? Maybe he’d just been that taken in by her. She was more fun to watch than a fucking cup. “Oh.”

  “I had sex with you because I wanted to. Because you made me feel good. Not because I was drunk and out of my head.” She cocked her head. “Can you say the same? Why did you do it?”

  Heat swept through him, taking away some of the guilt that had been his companion for way too long. She’d been fully sober and still fucked him? Well, that changed a few things. It meant she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her.

  Also, he couldn’t believe how much she’d grown up. Last time he’d been this close to her, she’d needed him. Needed his help. She didn’t need him anymore…


  But he might just need her.

  He watched her, his fingers flexing. “You’ve changed. You’re bolder.”

  Surprisingly, he found this version of Christine even hotter.

  She raised her brows. “So have you, but I bet you’re still that same boy who runs away after sex—just all grown up.”

  “I’ve outgrown that particular habit,” he said drily. “But I don’t take virgins to my bed anymore.”

  “That might be so.” She stepped closer, uncrossing her arms. “But I bet you still leave afterward, even if it is for a different reason. Perhaps to avoid commitment? I’ve heard you’re not big on the whole long-term relationship stuff.”

  He gritted his teeth. She was way too fucking spot-on for his liking. “And what do you know about me? It’s been eight years.”

  She stepped even closer and ran a hand down his chest. His heart sped up at her featherlight touch. “I know you’ve avoided commitments and seem to love throwing yourself into your work. I know you feel more comfortable overseas in a jungle than you do here, in a hotel lobby. I know the last place you want to be right now is here, with me.” Her hand dropped. “Am I right?”

  Damn it all to hell, she was too fucking good. He curled his hands into fists, refusing to touch her even though he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing right now. “Pretty damn close except for the last part. I’m finding this whole encounter enlightening, to say the least.”

  She smiled and bit down on the corner of her lip as if she tried to stop it. It was adorable and sexy all in one. Just like her. “How so?”

  “Like I said, you aren’t the same person you were in Mexico.”

  Her smile widened. “But I bet you are.”

  “Care to find out?” he asked, crossing his arms. “We could—”

  “Yeah. I don’t know about that.” She crossed her arms and considered him. “The last performance wasn’t all that great for me to revisit it. Especially the ending.”

  Wait. What? He hadn’t been talking about revisiting the bedroom, for God’s sake. He’d been talking about revisiting their friendship. But now she had to go and throw that insult out there? He growled. “The hell it wasn’t.”

  “Don’t like the sound of that, Doctor?”

  He stepped closer, his heart pounding. “Yeah, because I know you liked it. Don’t lie to me.”

  She cocked a haughty brow at him, seeming completely and perfectly composed while he was about to flip his shit. “So now you presume to know my mind better than I do?”

  She might get away with talking shit to other men she’d been with, but it wouldn’t fly with him. He backed her up to the wall, boxing her in. Leaning so close that their chests touched, he pressed his hands against the wall on either side of her head. Getting this close to her was dangerous and stupid and delicious all at once.

  It felt fucking amazing.

  She smelled like vanilla and some sort of flower perfume, just as he remembered. After all this time, she still smelled the same?

  Now her scent would drive him insane.

  He caught her gaze. “It might have been your first time, but it wasn’t mine. I know for a fact you enjoyed every single thing I did to you that night. Especially when I buried my head between those sweet legs of yours and made you scream my name so loudly you woke up the entire floor. There’s no faking the way your pussy clamped down on my finger when you came, Red.”

  She bit down hard on her lower lip, and pink suffused her cheeks. “You talk to your patients that way, Dr. Dresco? That’s not a very professional bedside manner.”

  “No,” he said, leaning even closer. His gaze fell to her plump mouth, and his stomach lurched. “I save it all for you.”

  “Lucky me,” she replied, her breath coming out unsteadily despite her smooth expression. “You’re going to have to do more than dirty-talk me to get me to fall back into your arms.”

  He ran a finger down her cheek, caught her chin, and tipped it up to him. “I bet you’d love it if I kissed you right here. Maybe you’d even like me to take you against the wall, just like I did in Mexico. For old time’s sake.” He pressed his hips against hers, rolling them in a gentle circle, and she let out a tiny moan. The sound went straight to his cock. “You could wrap your legs around my waist, and I could bury myself deep inside of you where you need me. All you have to do is ask me nicely.”

  “I’m not asking you for anything,” she breathed, her eyes flashing a challenge at him. “So don’t hold your breath.”

  He pressed closer, rolling against her core. “I noticed you haven’t asked me to let go of you yet, either.” He lowered his face to hers. “You want me to kiss you. Touch you. Fuck you. Admit it.”

  Another small moan escaped her, and there was no denying the desire in her eyes. “Just do it already, damn it.”

  Satisfaction, hard and deep, rushed through him like a storm. He slanted his lips down on hers, catching her moan with his mouth. The second their lips fused…all hell broke loose. Her nails dug into his shoulders, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out if she was pushing him away or pulling him closer. But he knew for damned sure that she kissed him back. Her lips parted, and the sound she made was for him.

  He took advantage of the opportunity and slipped his tongue inside, seeking hers. When she curled hers around his, sucking gently, he groaned deep in his throat. He’d forgotten how amazing she tasted. It all came rushing back to him now.

  Not just her taste, but the way she squirmed when he went down on her, offering tiny little pleas the whole time until she came…

  This time, he wouldn’t forget a single detail.

  Her nails dug deeper into his shoulders, and she slid them behind his neck and yanked him closer, deepening the kiss. Her teeth dug into his lip, but he pushed even more, needing all of her. He trailed his hands down her sides, his thumb brushing the curve of her breast, as he hauled her up against the wall.

  She caught on quickly enough, wrapping her legs around his waist so tightly he’d swear he’d died and gone to fucking heaven. He rubbed his straining cock against her warmth, reveling in the broken moan that escaped her, and thrust against her. When she broke the kiss and tilted her head back against the wall, he bit down on her shoulder and slid his hand under her dress, palming her ass through the satin underwear she wore.

  When his fingers brushed her inner thigh, he hesitated. She wasn’t a virgin anymore, but he needed to make sure she knew exactly what she was getting from him—hot sex. Nothing more, nothing less. And it wouldn’t be in the fucking foyer, either. It would be in a bed this time. “Do you want me to stop, Red?”

  “No,” she moaned, her voice soft and breathy, and moved against him. “God, no.”

  “Fucking A,” he growled.

  He moved to slip his fingers inside her panties, eager to feel her wetness against him before he led them both upstairs to his room. But just as he was about to touch heaven…she stiffened in his arms. A door opened and a voice echoed in the empty hallway.

  She smacked his arm. “Put me down. Your mom’s coming.”

  Nothing like the mention of his mother to sour the mood. He pulled back and lowered her to her feet, helping her smooth the skirt over her thighs. Once she stood on her own, he dropped his hands to his side and stepped back. He couldn’t stop staring. She was fucking perfect, with her flushed cheeks and swollen lips and messed-up hair. “This isn’t over.”

  She pressed her fingers against her lips and looked at him with wide eyes. “Yeah, it is. This wasn’t on my list.”

  “Your list? What list?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Christine, I—”

  “Tyler? Is that you?” his mom called out, her voice creeping closer.

  Cursing inwardly, he turned and greeted the interruption with a false smile. “Yeah, Mom. Over here.”

  He looked over his shoulder at Christine as he walked away. She stood there watching him, still looking as kissable as she had before he’d touched her.
The whole time he chatted with his mom, he could think of nothing more than ending the conversation so he could finish what he’d started with Christine. The second she headed back inside the bar—with his assurances he would soon follow—he turned back to Christine. “Okay. What list were you—?”

  She was gone.

  Not again. Why were they always running from each other? His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. It was from a number he didn’t recognize. He swiped his finger across the screen and scanned it.

  That was a mistake and won’t be happening again. I suggest we keep our distance from each other from now on. All my love…to your parents. —Christine

  His fingers tightened on his phone. How did you get this number?

  I’m a journalist. I can get anything, anywhere. But I’m going to bed. I find myself suddenly exhausted. Thanks for the trip down memory lane. It was…kind of fun, I guess.

  He rolled his eyes. Bullshit. Pure and complete bullshit. Three more seconds and you would have been screaming my name while you came, and you know it.

  No. I don’t.

  She was in denial if she thought she could convince him he hadn’t turned her on just now. He knew the signs of arousal when he saw them. Flared pupils. Soaring pulse. Short breaths. They’d all been there.

  She was playing hard to get, plain and simple. She had a plan. Probably that list she’d mentioned. Knowing her, she’d laid out every step of her seduction plan, or something else she’d investigated perfectly before he arrived.

  Question was, did she really want to get caught?

  He slid his phone back into his pocket without replying to her last text, adjusted his pants—which were now way too tight—and headed back into the lounge. He’d played a few games of seduction a time or two himself, and now?

  He had a plan of his own.

  Chapter Five

  The next afternoon, Christine slammed the flowers that Julie had assigned to her into the vase on the table, muttering under her breath. She was in Spago helping Julie get ready for the event tonight, and her mood was sour. After her kiss-and-run play she’d pulled on Tyler last night, he should have come pounding on her door. Or he should have at least replied to her teasing text, for the love of God. Begged for her to come back down with him so they could talk. Something. Anything. But instead she’d gotten radio silence.