“I appreciate you being here,” Shane said.
Aiden snapped out of his reverie. “Oh man, I’m sorry. I’m being a jerk on your big day.” He straightened in his chair, ashamed to have let melancholy overshadow his happiness for Shane and Crickitt.
Speaking of, here she came, poured into a slim white wedding dress, fabric flowers sewn into the flowing train. She grinned at Shane, her face full of love, her blue eyes shining. When she flicked a look over to Aiden, he promptly slapped a smile onto his face.
“You look amazing, C,” he told her.
Crickitt’s grin widened. “Thank you.”
“And this reception”—he blew out a breath for effect—“the lights”—he gestured to the hundreds of strands draped inside the tent—“the flowers, the band.” The three-piece band included a formerly famous singer a decade past his heyday, but the guy still had it.
Crickitt rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Shane insisted on all this. I wanted something simple. When he suggested getting married in a tent in Tennessee… I didn’t expect this.” She waved a hand around the interior of the tent: the shining wooden dance floor, the thick swaths of mosquito netting covering every entrance, the tall, narrow air conditioners positioned at each corner to keep the guests cool and comfortable during the warm June evening.
She smiled down at Shane. “But it is pretty great.”
“You’re pretty great,” Shane said, tugging her into his lap and kissing her bare shoulder. The wedding photographer swooped in, capturing the picture for posterity, a good one by the looks of it.
Aiden picked the moment to excuse himself for a refill.
Or maybe two.
* * *
Sadie caught movement out of the corner of her eye and swept her attention away from Crickitt’s attentive brother to see Aiden tracking his way across the tent in that easygoing lope of his.
She’d never seen him in a suit until she preceded Crickitt down the aisle. He didn’t wear the tie he’d worn earlier, picked to match her bridesmaid’s dress. She knew the intricate design by heart. She’d traced the tiny pink and silver paisley design, all the while trying not to allow the sorrow in his voice to crack through her defenses. He’d not only broken her heart last summer with a phone call, he’d broken her will, demolished her sense of true north. She couldn’t forgive him—or herself—for allowing it to happen.
She’d cut the conversation short tonight, recalling the promise she’d made to never show her vulnerability to this man again, and stalked away from him as fast as her sparkly pink heels would carry her.
Garrett turned his attention to someone else standing in their little circle, and Sadie took the opportunity to watch Aiden. Tailored black pants hugged his impressive thighs and led up to a tucked white shirt, open at the collar and showing enough of his tanned neck to be distracting.
I made a mistake last summer, Sadie. One I’ll regret always.
A pang of guilt stabbed her. She hadn’t expected the flood of emotion that crashed into her when she saw him for the first time in nearly a year. She’d planned to tell him she was sorry he lost his mother. And she was. She may have never met the woman, but she saw her once. And she saw the connection between mother and son as clearly as she saw Aiden now.
Sadie kept up with Aiden’s mother’s illness via updates from Crickitt. The decision not to go to the funeral went without saying, but Sadie hadn’t been able to stop herself from sending an anonymous bouquet to the funeral home. Losing a parent was one of the worst things in the world, she knew.
Sadie straightened her spine, wiggled her heel into the floor, and reminded herself again not to dwell on her own heartbreak. Her best friend’s wedding wasn’t the place to dig up the past. Even so, she’d spent most of the day desperately trying to tamp down one emotion after the other. Thank goodness girls were supposed to cry at weddings.
Which is why she’d been avoiding him. Aiden had a knack for seeing right through her. That was the clincher. He knew her. Picked her apart with those clairvoyant sea green eyes of his, and left her defenseless. And being called out by Aiden Downey was at the tippy-top of her “To Don’t” list.
Aiden pulled a hand through his thick hair, the length of it landing between his shoulder blades. Sadie recalled the texture of it as if she’d run her fingers through it yesterday. She hated that.
Damn muscle memory.
Crickitt’s mother, Chandra, approached the bar and gave Aiden a plump hug. Aiden smiled down at her, but Sadie saw the sadness behind it, and for a split second, it made her heart hurt. She’d gotten good at reading him, too. Knowing that reminded her of just how close she’d been to losing her heart to him… until a phone call annihilated everything between them.
Whether it was the invisible cord of awareness strung between them or coincidence, Sadie wasn’t sure, but Aiden chose that moment to look in her direction. His smile faltered, the dimple on his left cheek fading before he flicked his eyes away.
Sadie used to love the way he shook her up. From across a room. With nothing more than a look. But now her heart raced for a far different reason. One she refused to name. She frowned down at her empty champagne flute. She was going to need more alcohol if she hoped to toughen her hide. This exposed vulnerability simply wasn’t going to cut it.
“Refill?” Garrett asked, gesturing to her empty glass.
“Yes,” she said, grateful for his doting. She handed it over. “Keep ’em coming.”
* * *
Aiden bid the last lingering guests farewell, watching as a sophisticated older couple by the name of Townsend walked out to the driveway.
Shane and Crickitt August had made their exit hours ago, amidst cheers and handfuls of heart-shaped biodegradable confetti. Since he was staying at Shane and Crickitt’s cabin for the weekend, Aiden was left in charge of supervising the caterer, breaking down the tent, and clearing away the remains of the celebration.
“Do you need me to get you to a hotel, Sadie?”
Aiden turned in the direction of the slightly exasperated voice to find Garrett gesturing with his hands. Sadie was the picture of stubbornness, her arms folded over her ample breasts, her bottom lip jutting out. Aiden allowed himself a small, private smile.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” Garrett said. He reached out to palm her arm and Sadie expertly swung out of reach.
Aiden felt kind of bad for the kid. Twenty-two-year-old Garrett Day was far too inexperienced to handle a woman of Sadie’s magnitude on his best day, and even then…
“There a problem?” Aiden approached with his hands in his pockets, trying to broadcast that he didn’t care if Garrett was trying to take Sadie with him when he left. He supposed he shouldn’t care. Aiden had no interest in getting into a pissing match with him, but if Garrett tried to take Sadie when she didn’t want to go, he’d have hell to pay. C’s little brother or not.
Garrett gave Aiden an assessing glance before answering. “Just making sure Sadie has a ride tonight.”
“I don’t need a ride. I’m staying here,” she practically spat.
Aiden rocked back on his heels. She was staying at the cabin? Hell’s bells. What were Crickitt and Shane up to?
“I’ll make sure she gets inside okay,” Aiden said.
“I’ll get myself inside, thank you very much.” Sadie tipped her head and propped her hands on her nipped waist. Aiden knew he shouldn’t allow his eyes to chase the line of her slender neck to the bodice of her dress. And he shouldn’t linger at the point where her breasts met in shadowed cleavage, but he did it anyway. Good thing he was watching her. A moment later, she took a step toward the cabin and wobbled in her dangerously tall heels.
Both men rushed forward to steady her. Aiden got there first. A victory. He gripped her waist and Sadie’s hand came up to clutch the front of his shirt. He desperately tried to ignore the warmth spreading across his chest, the feel of her against him. Even though the circumstances were all wrong, the timing com
pletely off, there was no denying this gorgeous woman belonged in his arms. Sadie didn’t let go, and Aiden didn’t think he could unless someone physically pried his hands off her.
He turned his attention to Garrett. “You can head out. I have her.” Aiden held his eye. Dared him to argue. Garrett frowned, and for a second Aiden thought he might, but then Crickitt’s mother, queen of impeccable timing, intruded.
“Garrett, we have the car. Is Sadie… Oh! Aiden, perfect.” She sent him an approving smile. “Do you need my help?”
“No, Mrs. D, I’ll make sure she’s all right.”
She made a tsking sound. “Poor dear had an entire magnum of champagne.”
Garrett didn’t look as if he wanted to leave but did anyway, walking his mother out of the tent. Maybe he’d come to the conclusion Sadie was more than he could handle after all.
Aiden guided Sadie to the house as she teetered on those pink stilts she called shoes. He had fond memories of her shoes. Fond because the added inches brought her within kissable reach. His heart gave an echoing ache. “You should take those off,” he said, stopping short of offering to carry her. He’d lifted her in his arms once before. One year ago. Felt more like a dozen.
“I’m fine,” she said, tipping again. Her argument was garbled but genuine.
“I assume your things are already in your room?” He tucked her against him as they stepped inside the cabin, then shut the door behind them. He also assumed their matchmaking friends had put them both upstairs. Since there were only two bedrooms on this floor, and since he was staying in the master on the right, he assumed Sadie’s was to the left.
She mumbled something and he moved to settle her into the recliner.
“No,” she protested, locking her arms around his neck. “I have to get out of this stupid dress.” She gazed up at him, her brown eyes slightly glassy.
Aiden swallowed thickly, taking in all that blonde hair falling in waves around her heart-shaped face. She always was beautiful. And those lips. She licked her bottom one and he was half-tempted to lean in for a taste.
She’s drunk, you idiot.
She started toward his room and he caught her hips and steered her away. “Not in there.”
She spun on him, narrowing her eyes. “Why not?”
Lie. But he couldn’t lie to Sadie. He never could. Even when it would have benefited him the most. “Because my stuff’s in there,” he mumbled.
She blinked at him and he readied for a fight. It didn’t come. “Fine. I’m too tired to argue. And I have to get this off.” She moved one hand to the bodice of her dress and wiggled it back and forth, sending her breasts jiggling inside the fitted top.
Aiden stared. Actually stared. Like when he’d found his older brother’s stash of Playboys for the first time. No one filled out their clothes like Sadie.
She cleared her throat and he jerked his eyes north. “Help me?”
Crap.
He was being tested, here, in the cruelest way. She was asking him to undress her? Exposing herself to him, and Aiden to her naked body? He couldn’t do it while sporting a woody or she’d cut him off at the knees. Drunk or not.
Aiden mentally tied a noose around his mojo. And pulled. “Sure thing.”
He followed her into the room and she dropped on the bed, falling back with an oomph! She toed at her shoes until they hit the floor. Aiden retrieved them, dangerous-looking spikes covered with winking rhinestones. How women walked in these things, he’d never know. Sadie told him once that because of her diminutive size she preferred the tallest shoes. He’d concurred at the time. Without them, Sadie only came to the middle of his chest. He was in favor of any contraption if it meant bringing her lips closer to his.
And now he was thinking of kissing her. Again.
He shook his head to wipe away the memories of the intense kisses they’d shared in the past: the sound of her truncated breaths against his ear, the feel of her fingernails spearing into his hair. He tracked back to the bed, jaw set, brain focused squarely on the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. He pulled back the covers intending to bury the tempting vision of her breasts bursting from the top of her dress, but she rolled onto her side before he could.
“Unzip,” Sadie demanded, her manicured nails fumbling at the back of her dress. When he hesitated, Sadie shot him a displeased look over her shoulder, crinkling her heavily made-up eyes at him.
Even sexier when she’s angry, he thought with a groan.
Aiden reached for the zipper, ignoring his impulse to go slowly, listen to every snick as he examined all of her smooth, porcelain flesh beneath the bridesmaid’s dress. It’d been too long since he’d been allowed to touch this woman. Too. Effing. Long. The zipper parted to reveal what appeared to be a sleeveless white straitjacket with about a hundred hooks.
“Now this.” She did a backward point.
Aiden paused. The thing looked as penetrable as Fort Knox. “Can’t you sleep in it?”
“Just do it. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” She turned her head at an awkward angle so she could look at him. A little pleat formed on her brow as if she was reconsidering. “I mean, not me, but other girls.” She flopped her head onto the pillow with a whump.
Thanks for the reminder, Aiden thought tersely.
He and Sadie hadn’t had a chance to get that far. Okay, that wasn’t true. They’d had plenty of chances. Each time they saw one another, the dates had lasted at least six or seven hours. Or overnight. They couldn’t seem to escape one another, or stop talking, or stop touching. She’d seen him stripped down to his briefs, and he’d seen her bare legs poking out of one of his T-shirts, but they’d always stopped short of going further. Both of them had been hurt before and neither of them was anxious to repeat their painful pasts.
So, yes, Sadie was right. He hadn’t technically seen her naked, but he had felt enough of her bare flesh under his palms to give his imagination a hell of a show.
He scooted the bedside lamp closer to investigate the contraption she’d bound herself in. He could dismantle a car; surely he could handle this. Turns out he had to make the thing tighter before the hooks would release. Each time, Sadie grunted, until he got halfway down her back and she blew out a whooshing breath. He made quick work of the rest.
“Thank God.” She sat up, one hand covering the sagging top of her gown, withdrew the corset, and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. “I owe you, Downey. Now help me out of this dress and go away.”
He swallowed thickly, recognizing the painful familiarity of the moment. The night she was on his couch and slipped her bra out from underneath her tank top. He’d clutched her to him, and she’d panted against his neck as her nipples abraded his bare chest. It was then she’d hesitated. Wordlessly, but he’d felt the slightest bit of tension creep into her shoulders. He backed off, but didn’t let her go, tucking her into bed against him and sleeping next to her through the night.
That was his Sadie. Minx on the outside, lamb on the inside. Seeing this side of her again, being reminded of what they’d had—what he’d thrown away…
Man. It hurt.
“I’m too tipsy to do it myself,” she growled. Despite her efforts to keep it out, vulnerability leaked into her voice. Aiden’s weakness was her trust in him; her showing who she really was. He gripped her elbows and helped her to her feet, stopping short of crushing her lips with his and admitting he was wrong a hundred ways from Sunday.
He steadied her elbows as she wiggled out of the dress with a perfunctory “No looking.” He obeyed, keeping his eyes focused out the bedroom window. But with the bedside lamp on, he couldn’t see out the window, only himself reflected in the pane, and Sadie’s thong panties as she stepped out of the dress. He shut his eyes and reminded his johnson to remain at ease.
“Aiden.”
“Yes.”
“I need you to get my pajamas for me.”
“Okay.”
“No peeking while I crawl into bed.”
This was
the side of Sadie people didn’t see. Her modest side. Everyone assumed they knew her—with her litany of first dates and explosive personality, Sadie was mistaken as confident and outgoing. Which she was, both of those things. She was also modest, careful. Fragile. And despite the increasing pressure in his pants, Aiden vowed to honor her request.
“Okay,” he muttered.
“Promise,” she commanded, brushing against his arm as she turned. Something very soft grazed his skin and he tried to convince himself it wasn’t what he thought it was.
“Promise,” he said through clenched teeth.
When he heard the wisp of sheets he opened his eyes. Sadie wore the comforter over her breasts and pointed with one arm. “The big suitcase,” she said around a yawn.
The big suitcase also had a big lock. The key, he assumed, was in her purse. He approached The Purse, which was about the size of a small country, and stopped short. Going through a woman’s purse was a lot like sticking a hand in the garbage disposal. While he was pretty sure he’d be able to get what he needed out of it, there was the risk of losing a digit while rooting around in there.
He glanced back at Sadie, who had lain back and shut her eyes. Her breathing was already steady and deep. Making a snap decision, he walked to his room and dug a T-shirt out of his duffel bag. When he returned, he wondered if it was even worth it to wake her. But then he thought of her waking in only her panties—a thought that had him swallowing a lump of lust—and worried she might think something had happened tonight. He regarded the gray shirt in his hand. Not that she’d be thrilled about waking in one of his tees. Again.
Was that night on auto-repeat?
Ignoring the overwhelming sense of déjà vu, he stretched the neck and slipped the shirt over her sprayed hair, feeding first one arm into a sleeve followed by the other. Now the tricky part. Looking up at the ceiling, he palmed her back and pulled her toward him. But as he started to tug the shirt down, Sadie’s arms clamped around his neck, her breasts smashing against his cardboard dress shirt.
The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance) Page 27