My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding

by T. Sue VerSteeg

  "You are." She placed her hand on his proffered bicep.

  Tony led her toward a small, cleared hilltop away from the crowd of people. With no need to be within hearing distance, the viewing aspect was their only concern. They reached the clearing, and Jemma turned to survey their remote, hidden treasure that offered them everything they needed: privacy, a great view, stars, and moonlight.

  "Talk about prime real estate. This is perfect." Jemma took the blanket from Tony's arm and spread it on the level, grassy spot next to a huge oak tree. He unloaded the basket of goodies, and she noted he had everything she would've brought: a bottle of wine, two glasses, strawberries, cheese and, of course, chocolate. Tony placed them on the blanket and flipped on the radio, tuning into the right station just as the movie started.

  Patting the ground next to him, he raised the wine and an inquisitive brow.

  "Sure, why not." Jemma lowered herself to the ground in the most lady-like manner she could manage in her close-fitting dress, trying to retain all of her "secrets" in the process.

  He filled both glasses and handed her one as she settled herself on her side. The familiarity of the movie mixed with the wine relaxed her. Before she knew it, the movie completely engrossed her as though she'd never seen it. The tinkling of piano music filled the air, and the raspy voice of Sam broke into the song "As Time Goes By."

  Tony reached his hand out to Jemma. "Care to dance?"

  She glanced around as though he'd asked someone behind her and blushed when she snapped out of her movie-induced bubble. "Sure." She slipped her hand into his, and sensual energy flowed into her from his touch.

  She struggled to make her jellied legs work and come to a standing position.

  This could be dangerous.

  The song lilted from the radio about a kiss being just a kiss.

  Tony slid his right hand over her shoulder and brushed her loose curls free, trailing his fingers lightly under them until his palm came to rest on the small of her back. Fire branded her skin where his hand touched, but paled in contrast when his body pressed against hers. The warmth smoldered through her, and she became far too aware of every inch of him touching her.

  Tony took her right hand within his left, her fingers slowly clasping his; her free hand led a languid trail over his strong bicep and broad shoulder before coming to a rest at the nape of his neck. The silky feel of his hair between her fingers and the intoxicating, beachy smell of his cologne added to the overload on her senses.

  Her legs steadied a bit when he led her onto their makeshift, quilted dance floor. Everything around them disappeared except the music and the moonlight. Jemma released a deep sigh, closed her eyes, and placed her head on his chest, listening to the heady staccato beat of his heart. She felt safe, secure, and right with the world. Even the nervous jelly feeling disappeared. All that remained was the sensual humming of attraction between them. Jemma had never felt a more perfect peace.

  No dueling, no fighting. Just peace.

  She raised her head and looked up at him.

  "What's that sweet smile all about?" he asked.

  "Oh, I just have a gut feeling my parents would probably like you."

  "Okay." Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow and stopped dancing. "Do I want to know why holding you close brought about that particular gut feeling?"

  "I can assure you it's nothing weird, if that's any comfort. It's just a woman thing, as my brother would so eloquently phrase it."

  "Ah, that's good to know."

  Tony pulled her close again, his lips brushing her ear, and they swayed to the music. A small sigh escaped as she thought about those lips on hers before she could stop it.

  Tony placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her face. "Something wrong?"

  Not wanting to push her luck, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "I just remembered that this song almost got cut from the movie. It would've been such a shame. It's one of my favorites of all time."

  "Yep, if Ingrid Bergman hadn't already cut her hair for her next film, they would've pulled the scene and shot a new one. It's funny how one little detail can change the course of history like that."

  Jemma cocked her head to the side, impressed that he knew that bit of information. "We are so gonna play Trivial Pursuit sometime."

  Tony spun her away from him and quickly tugged her back into the safety of his embrace, returning her to the now familiar spark as their bodies pressed together again. Their swaying resumed, only this time it seemed primal, rhythmic. Their gazes locked, and the flames inside Jemma burned higher as their lips inched closer.

  "As time goes by," crooned between them.

  Tony eased her back into a dip, cradling her upper back with one hand, raising her knee to his hip with the other. His lips grazed hers, a gentle touch at first, which slowly increased in intensity. His tongue slid along the seam of her lips, begging for her to open to him. Without any thought, she answered and allowed him access. Their tongues mingled, and Jemma enjoyed the mix of strawberries and wine she tasted from him. Tony stood her upright without breaking their bond. His arms reached around behind her waist, bunching the material of her dress in his hands, pulling her firmly against him.

  Jemma's arms snaked up around his neck, and she wound her fingers in his silky hair. She released a small moan into his mouth, her body coming close to overload from his kiss alone.

  Tony pulled away and stared down at Jemma with a hooded gaze. "Well, that song is wrong."

  Jemma frowned in confusion.

  "A kiss is not just a kiss, at least when it comes to yours. All I can say is, wow."

  "Well, I prefer to leave words out of it and let the kiss speak for itself." Jemma grabbed Tony by the front of his shirt and pulled him into another sizzling kiss.

  Tony's hands framed Jemma's face, and he pushed her back to within inches of his. "I think it's only fair to warn you that you'd better stop talking like that, or this conversation may reach the point of no return."

  Jemma feigned a pout, complete with sad eyes and protruding bottom lip. "So, you're basically telling me to shut up and watch the movie."

  Tony shook his head emphatically. "Oh, no, but I am still giving you that option at this point."

  "Ah." Jemma slid to the ground near the tree and watched Tony's shoulders slump in defeat. He sat, leaning against the sturdy oak trunk near her.

  Patting the ground between his legs, he cracked a lopsided grin. "Come here. I'll be good, I promise."

  I'm sure 'good' would be an understatement.

  She slowly crouched to her hands and knees, crawling toward him. She fought the urge with each movement to straddle his lap and give herself to him right there, with all the people just down the hill and Bogie and Bergman playing on the old grain storage building wall. Instead, she closed her eyes, released a huge sigh, and surrendered sweetly, sliding to a sitting position in front of him and leaning back into his awaiting embrace. Hard and ready, he pressed against her back, and it prompted the images from her dreams to flood her mind. She closed her eyes and reveled in the warmth swelling through her. The light touch of his fingers blended well with her thoughts, and he brushed the hair away from the crook of her neck, replacing it with light, lingering kisses, trailing them to her ear.

  "What happened to being good?" she breathed.

  His subtle sigh warmed her neck. "I can't help myself," he whispered into her ear. He nipped her earlobe and wrapped her tighter in his arms, pressing his body closer to hers. They both pretended to watch the movie, but the smoldering attraction kept a different kind of picture playing in Jemma's mind. The evidence of her effect on him never left its spot, pressed firmly in the middle of her back. The movie came to an end, but she didn't want to leave the safety of his arms or the fervent, liquid fire that consumed her.

  During the quiet car ride home, Jemma found herself caught in the turmoil of her own emotions. Her two selves once again at war, they fought with hand grenades and tear gas. Common sense rep
eated a mantra: Don't invite him up or you'll look like a slut. Over and over.

  The little devil on her shoulder was all about satiating the needs they both obviously had, seizing the here and now, grasping the down and dirty sex that begged to be had by replaying their kiss, mingled by flashes of her dreams.

  What happened to the harmony from earlier, guys?

  Tony brought the car to a stop in front of her building. Tension reached a fevered pitch in Jemma's body, enough so that she was sure Tony could physically feel her struggle. Full-blown nuclear war erupted inside her. She turned, witnessing the smoldering passion in his eyes, and he claimed her lips in a mind-numbing kiss. Passion took over her brain, body, and soul, leaving no room for thought, only actions. His hands framed her face while his thumbs caressed her jaw line and fingers teased behind her ears.

  Tony released an agonized groan and backed away from her. "Please, don't ask me to come up." His eyes extended the desperate plea.

  "Okay." Disappointment slashed through the desire, leaving her confused. "I won't," she said, unable to hide her feelings. Even though he had settled her struggle, she flew right past the relief of not having to make the decision and felt a little sad and jilted.

  He threw his head back against his seat, releasing a disgruntled scoff. "Oh, it's not at all what you're thinking. There isn't an inch of my body that isn't mad at me for saying those words. I'd love nothing more than to carry you up those stairs and have my way with you until you begged me to stop."

  "Okay." Her brow knit, and she tilted her head, waiting for an explanation.

  "I feel as though there could be so much more between us than merely the physical element. I guess I need to be sure you want me for more than just my body." He turned his handsome face toward her, staring deeply into her eyes. She read nothing on his poker face. Shock and embarrassment bolted through her at assuming so much more.

  A mischievous smile crept onto his lips.

  "You bum." Swatting at him playfully, she turned to let herself out of his car.

  His hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him. "I'm not ready to let you go yet. Just because I don't trust myself within a fifty-foot radius of a bed at the moment, doesn't mean I'm done kissing you."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jemma woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. Her nightgown clung to her body again, not that she wasn't getting used to it. Her phone chirped a happy tune from her nightstand. "This Kiss" by Faith Hill, the song she'd programmed for Anthony's calls, filled her apartment. Lunging for the phone, she stumbled over her own feet and grabbed it on the third ring.

  Deep breaths. Don't seem too eager.

  She cleared her throat and tossed her head from side to side in a last ditch effort to loosen up. She grasped for nonchalance as she answered, "Always the Photographer, Never the Bride, this is Jemma." Her voice squeaked.

  Damn.

  "Hey, it's Tony."

  "Hey, yourself." Playing coy seemed to work better than the whole aloof thing, so she went with that. She glanced at her alarm clock and noticed it was only six in the morning. Inwardly groaning, she said, "You're up early for a Saturday. Does the term 'butt crack of dawn' mean anything to you?"

  "I'm on my way to work and just wanted to tell you that I had a wonderful time last night."

  "Me, too." Jemma beamed, releasing a dreamy sigh as she thought back to their date, but curiosity finally got the better of her. "Isn't there some kind of man code, two day rule about calling a girl after a date?"

  "Hmm, would you like me to call you back in two days?"

  "Yes." She paused, hoping for some twisted panicky retribution for the previous night. "But I want to talk to you now and several more times before then, too." Again, she girly-giggled. What was wrong with her?

  "You nearly had me with that one."

  "I can't help it. With sarcastic parents, it's pretty much genetic. So, you said you were off to work. Where might that be?"

  "I own a nightclub downtown, right off of the square. It's what brought me here from New York. Well, that, and Kate's family. My place is called The Big Apple. Have you heard of it?"

  "I have. I've even been there a time or two. You play great music, and better still, it's not a college hang out like so many places on the square. What could you possibly have to do there on a Saturday morning, though?"

  "Sometimes on weekends I go in early to catch the staff off guard and make sure the office people actually come in. You'd be surprised at how many times I catch them either asleep at their desks or signed in and nowhere to be found. The beer truck comes in early on Saturdays, too. It's kind of important for business that someone is there to get that."

  "Sounds like you've got some fine employees there."

  He chuckled. "Most of them are, but you know what they say about one bad apple?"

  "Yup, it can spoil the whole bunch." Jemma groaned aloud as the old song popped into her head. "You realize that I'm going to have The Jackson Five playing on repeat in my head all day now, don't you?"

  "Personally, my mind prefers to dwell on your kisses."

  The song was toast as soon as those memories flooded in. "Hmm, that's a much better way to occupy my mind. Good call."

  "Well, I'm at the club. I should let you get back to sleep."

  Jemma snorted, "Who said I was asleep?"

  Laughter broke out on both ends of the line, and they said their goodbyes. Jemma snapped her phone shut and crawled back in her fluffy bed in a dream-like, happy state.

  Sleep quickly claimed her again, drifting back into Tony's awaiting embrace within her dreams, but only until loud, erratic knocking at her door roused her again. She grabbed her housecoat and sprinted to the door without thinking, or even completely waking up, just reacting to the desperate banging. She swung the door open to be greeted by her brother's mischievous face.

  "You do realize that it's almost noon, don't you? Hmm, is he still here?" Mikey propped himself up on his toes for added effect as he surveyed her apartment, even though he was tall enough to see over her head.

  Jemma balled up her fists, forcing herself not to shove him down the stairs. "Who is the he you are referring to?"

  "Mr. Hot-and-Sweaty-Sex-Guy. You know, the one that has you washing your sheets on a daily basis." An evil smile snaked across his face, and Jemma's face bloomed with heat.

  "There… There's no one here, and there hasn't been anyone, for that matter. You really need to mind your own business for a change." Jemma stomped into her kitchen to start some breakfast.

  Or lunch.

  Mikey slammed the door behind him and jumped onto a barstool on the other side of the counter. "Ooh, what are you making us?"

  Jemma raised a brow. She'd learned long ago that she'd be fighting a senseless battle to get Mikey to leave without feeding him. She scrambled some eggs, toasted bread, sat the butter and jelly in front of him, and bowed in his direction. "Does this please you, Sire?"

  In regal fashion, Mikey sat up straight, adjusted his non-existent tie, and pretended to dust off the seat next to him. "You may feast with me, wench."

  Shaking her head and grinning, she walked around the bar and stood next to him. "Many thanks, good sir." After pulling her robe out on both sides and dipping in a mock-curtsy, she took her place next to him and devoured her meal.

  "If you eat like that when he takes you out, it's no wonder he isn't in your bed."

  She lifted her fork and poised the prongs over his hand. "Evil Jemma is winning right now, just so you're aware."

  Yanking his hand away, he waved both between them. "Okay, I'll be nice. So, who is this guy?"

  She scanned Mikey's face for genuine interest and was amazed to actually find it for a change. He swiveled his stool toward her and leaned forward with his elbows on the counter. Shock settled in her first, and then curiosity at his sudden interest in her dating habits took over. "Why do you want to know? Usually, you wait until I bring someone over to meet Mom and Dad before you e
ven know I'm dating anyone."

  "After the Dumb Ass Dalton incident, I've decided it's in our family's best interest to keep an eye on your dating habits for a while. I don't think Dad can handle many more late nights at Duke's with his buddies. Took him two days to live out that hangover."

  Jemma laughed aloud at the memory of her father's stubbly face and bloodshot eyes as she gathered their plates and put them in the sink. He'd been a bear to deal with, too. "Okay, I guess I can give you some info." She turned toward her brother and leaned against the cabinets. "His name is Anthony Giovanni and…"

  Mikey didn't give her a chance to finish. He slapped the countertop and bounced in his seat like a little boy. "Dude! You're dating Little Ant'ny? He's Mafia! Hand to God!" He crossed himself and threw his right hand in the air as though pointing directly to The Big Guy himself. "Dude, my baby sister is doing the mob."

  "First off, I am not a dude. Secondly, Anthony isn't related to the Mafia."

  "You know Dad takes business trips to New York City a lot. He has friends up there. I've heard him talk about Little Ant'ny. His real name is Anthony Giovanni."

  Jemma vaguely recollected the name and felt a little unsure on her feet as the room seemed to wobble. She pondered the possibility of Tony's ties to the mob for a split second. He'd told her he was from New York. She stared at her brother and forced a cynical look to her face as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  "Whew, try to get blood and horse-head guts out of those sheets you've been washing every day at Mom's. You think you've had it tough lately. That would be messy."

  Jemma shook her head at her brother's reference to the Godfather movie. Common sense barged in, helping her realize that even if this was the name her dad mentioned, the odds of Tony being Little Ant'ny were not all that good. Giovanni was a popular Italian last name, Anthony even more commonplace as a first name.