The Bridesmaid and the Bachelor

by Kris Fletcher

  “I win,” he said.

  “This time.” She waited until they were in the car, floor requests delivered and their ascent begun, before stretching up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, “But I’m pretty sure I’m going to make it to the next finish line in record time.”

  He closed his eyes. Swallowed hard. Stared straight ahead at the display panel.

  She tried to control her breathing while willing the numbers to go faster. If the elevator broke down now, she might end up committing her first act of public indecency.

  At last they hit her floor. She edged out of the elevator, key card in hand, and started down the corridor. Past the ice machine, past the first corner, almost at the stairwell . . .

  “Wait.” His hand closed over her elbow.

  “Why?” She twisted to face him, terrified of what she might see in his eyes. “So help me, Ben, if you’ve changed your mind—”

  “God, no. I just want a minute.”

  “For what?”

  He pulled her into the alcove in front of the stairwell . His hand cupped her chin, his fingers fanning out across her cheeks and slipping into her hair.

  “Ben . . .” There had to be other words she could say, but they all eluded her. None of them mattered. All she needed, all she wanted, was wrapped up in that one syllable.

  “Kyrie. Listen to me. Before we go to your room . . .”

  Right. The talk. “Okay, well, there’s only been one guy since you, and we barely—it wasn’t really—I mean, we didn’t even get naked.” Mmmm. Naked. “Anyway, that was almost a year ago, and when I bought that notebook the other morning, I thought, Better safe than sorry and bought—”

  “Yeah, me too. We’re good. But that’s not what I meant.”

  This would be so much easier if he would kiss her before he said anything else. One kiss to reassure her that this was going to happen, that he still wanted her, that she hadn’t completely killed everything with her frightened flight from the lake.

  “Kyrie . . . I need you to know. This is more than just a way to pass the afternoon.”

  Of all the things he could have said, that was probably the last one she expected. And yet, it turned out to be the absolute right thing she wanted.

  She released the sandals, letting them thud to the floor. “I missed you.” She rested her hand over his heart. “I didn’t want to and I can’t tell you how many times I told myself to stop being such an idiot, nobody should make that kind of impression in just a week—but I did. And you did. And right now, I am perfectly, completely, ridiculously happy to be with you again.”

  He trapped her hands between his, raised them to his mouth, kissed her fingertips. Lightly. Teasing. Torturing.

  “Ben. I’m standing here where anyone could see me, pretending to be Paige, wearing her clothes. I don’t want to be her right now. I want to take off her clothes and be me. And the best way I can do that is with—”

  The word was lost as he finally kissed her, hot and hard, pressing her against the wall and crushing her to him and making her wish this was any regular hotel where her room would be just around the corner instead of a three-minute walk away, because dear God, her knees weren’t going to last that long.

  He ended the kiss and lifted his head just far enough to nuzzle her nose.

  “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I’m all done talking.”

  “Oh, thank God,” she said, and scooped up the sandals.

  Chapter Six

  The remainder of the walk to her room passed in silence. Maybe because there was nothing left to say, at least not with words. Maybe because she was walking so briskly that there was no air left to move and talk and fantasize, all at the same time. And right now, moving and anticipating were definitely higher on the priority list.

  About three millennia later, they were in her room. The door closed behind them with a soft snick that echoed like an unseen exclamation point. She tossed Paige’s sandals into the closet. They landed smack beside her own running shoes.

  “Nice throw,” he said. “I never knew you had athletic abilities.”

  “I don’t.” She slid her hands up his chest, twining them behind his neck. “But I’m ready to learn.”

  “I’ve been told I’m a lousy teacher.” His lips brushed the corner of her mouth, trailed across her cheek, and stopped beside her ear. “I sometimes have to repeat lessons over . . . and over . . . and over again.”

  The words were punctuated by kisses along her jaw and the slow slip of blouse buttons.

  “The good news is, my students never seem to complain.”

  “I just bet they don’t,” she said, right before gripping his shirt and pulling him to her, kissing him while backing up to the bed and tugging him down. Not that he resisted. She needed every bit of him and she needed him now.

  “Here’s the thing,” she said when she came up for air. They had landed sideways but somehow she was on top of him again, just like yesterday, but with a whole lot more promise. “I’m all for extended, in-depth, intensive learning. But right now . . .” She grabbed Paige’s shirt, popped the last button, slid it off her shoulders. “Right this minute, I think the final exam is about ready to start. So what I need is the—”

  “CliffsNotes version?”

  “That’s right.” Good-bye, bra. “Straight to the important stuff.”

  “What if I told you it was all important?”

  She slid a little farther south and tugged on his buckle. No easy task, what with the extra strain, but she was more than up for the challenge. And so, thank God, was he.

  “There’s important,” she said. “And then there’s imperative.”

  “Impera—”

  Funny that he should be the one rendered incapable of speech when she was the one putting her mouth to better uses.

  “Kyrie.”

  The tension in his voice . . . How many times had she heard that in her dreams over the past two years? That moment when she knew he needed her as desperately as she needed him. When only she could give him what he wanted. That moment when the whole world was condensed to them, just them, together and getting ready to fly.

  She stretched over him to grab the drawer pull. He caught her breast as she reached, his lips hot and urgent over all that need, and the drawer slipped out of her reach as she sagged onto him. His tongue teased and he reached down, sliding the length of her abdomen, pushing her underwear aside and hunting, probing, pushing while she tried to stay upright, but the air was flying from her lungs and all she could do was move and feel and arch and want—

  She lunged forward. Scrabbled for the drawer pull and yanked it open as she skimmed back, dragging every needy inch of her that she could manage over as much of him as she dared. She fumbled for the box while he pulled back-of-the-throat sounds from her, some mix of whimpers and gasps that she had only ever found with him. That she only ever wanted to find with him.

  And she wanted to find more. Now.

  With a mighty reminder that it would be worth it, she pulled herself away from him, dropping the box on his abdomen as she moved backward, depositing one more kiss for luck where he would never forget it.

  “Remember that race I promised you?” she said as she stood and stepped out of the skirt.

  “Right now, I can’t remember my name.”

  “Ben,” she said, kicking off everything else and climbing back onto the bed. “Your name is Ben.”

  “Say it again.”

  “Ben,” she repeated as she hovered over him, nibbling at his lips, dipping and swirling and teasing with her hips.

  “Ben,” she breathed against his heart, bracing herself against his shoulders, desperate to hold on a moment longer but feeling her control being pushed aside by the heat and the want, and then by him, his hands on her hips as he pushed inside and the wait
was over, they rocked and gripped and heaved and clung and then—then—he pulled his name from her again, long and shuddering and pulsing. Everything she had ever wanted. Everything she had ever needed.

  Ben.

  ***

  Ben had traveled a good chunk of the world and wanted to explore a lot more, but he didn’t think he would ever see a sight as captivating as Kyrie asleep beside him when he woke up the morning of the wedding. Except, possibly, Kyrie above him as she had teased him to the brink and back, all through the previous afternoon. Or Kyrie by the fountains, head tipped back and laughing as he took her picture after the rehearsal dinner. Or Kyrie snuggled against him as they drifted off to sleep, her face bathed in the muted lights from the Strip and her barely awake smile zinging through him.

  He couldn’t let this be their last time together. There was something happening here, something he’d never felt before with any other woman, and he needed to discover what could come next. But when he tried to discuss it over breakfast—thank God for room service—she clamped those gorgeous lips tight and shook her head.

  “Don’t,” she said, swallowing hard. “Please.”

  “Why not?”

  She kept her gaze fixed on her slice of cantaloupe. “Nothing has changed, Ben. You’re still Adventure Science Man, and I’m still . . . well, now that I have Brews and Blues, I’m even more tied to home. I need permanence. Security. All those things that were ripped away from me once, thanks to my father.”

  “That all happened a long time ago.”

  “You’re right. It did. But then it kept happening.” She gripped her coffee. “It seemed like every time we adjusted to the latest development, there’d be some new twist that opened it all up again. He was arrested. Then he disappeared and we thought he was dead. Then we moved to Calypso Falls and started over, and just when life was good again, he turned up in Costa Rica and was brought home. Then came the trial, and jail, and now he’s in a transitional place and e-mailing my mother and—”

  “Hey.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, stemming the flood of steadily higher-pitched words. “Breathe.”

  She did. Deep and slow, ending with the slightest shudder.

  “Sorry. It’s just . . . after all that, I need to feel like my life is mine. That what happens is up to me, not . . . whatever. Some whim of fate.”

  “You know I don’t believe in fate.”

  Her nod was small and sad.

  “Kyr . . . think. You keep saying you’re all about security, but Jesus, look at what you’re doing here. Is there any place less about permanence than Vegas? Or anything you could possibly do that’s wilder than imitating your sister at a wedding?”

  “I . . . Okay, but this is just a few days. Anybody can fake anything for a few days.”

  “See, that’s the thing. I don’t believe you’re faking.” Before she could give voice to the words he could almost see forming in her head, he leveled one finger in her direction. “Yeah, I know. You’re not really Paige. But you’re not faking when you’re with me, and I’m not talking about sex.” He scooted his chair closer to hers, pulled her hand to him and wrapped it within his own. “Remember what you said the other day, about not being able to think about anything but me? Remember what you said at the lake, about everything being different with me? Did you ever wonder why?”

  “Because it was only temporary.”

  He wanted to cry Bullshit, but there were enough tears slipping down her cheeks already. He settled for resting his forehead against hers and whispering, “I think there’s another reason. And I think you know it as well as I do.”

  Her soft hiccup made him pull back. He wanted nothing more than to lock them both in the room until he convinced her that they deserved a shot at a future, but there were other people who needed him this day. No one would benefit if either of them ended up a wreck.

  He let it go for the moment. But tomorrow, once the wedding was behind them, before they flew their separate ways . . . tomorrow, they would talk.

  ***

  After she took off for her hair-and-nail thing, he set out for his main duty: keeping Adam from going stir-crazy. From what Ben could tell, that meant lots of activity but no booze. Not the easiest combination in Vegas.

  They decided to visit some of the other hotels and wander around, take in the sights. Not a bad plan. Between the shark reef at Mandalay Bay, the lions at the MGM, and the sphinx outside the Luxor, there went most of the morning. They rambled around, talking about everything and nothing in a way they hadn’t in years. Ben had worried about the day, certain it would drag and feel like nothing but anticipation, but it turned out to be his only chance to really have Adam to himself. For that, he was grateful.

  And he intended to take full advantage of it.

  “Question,” he said as casually as he could muster while they downed hot dogs at the Nathan’s stand in New York-New York. “How long did it take you to know Siobhan was the one?”

  Adam set down his hot dog. “Is this going to go into your toast?”

  “Uh . . .”

  Shit. That would have been a great cover. Someday he would learn to be as skilled at subtle deception as he was at pranking.

  “Because I’m not answering if you’re gonna make it public knowledge.” Adam wiped mustard from his mouth. “But if you’re asking because of whoever might have kept you from sleeping in your room last night, you might convince me to talk.”

  “How’d you know I wasn’t in my room?”

  “I didn’t, for sure.” Adam grinned. “But I do now.”

  Ben stopped chewing. It made his glare more effective—or at least he thought so, until Adam started laughing. So what was there to do but join in?

  “You know, you’re pretty smart for a dumb jock.”

  “And you’re pretty smooth for a science geek. I never woulda thought you and Kyrie . . . but more power to you.”

  “Yeah, well don’t say anything to anybody, okay? It’s complicated. I don’t know what might happen.”

  “Because of her pretending to be Paige?” Adam shrugged and resumed inhaling his hot dog. “Look. I agree, it’s messy. But I say, keep things quiet for a few months, let me get Siobhan though the wedding and the thank-you letters and the photo albums and all that other crap . . .” He frowned. “Okay. Give us till Christmas. She loves Christmas. By then, the wedding will be in the past, she’ll be making a New Year’s resolution to get pregnant—”

  Ben coughed and choked. “Seriously?”

  “Knowing her? Yeah. Not right away, but she’ll be making plans.” Adam’s grin was pure mischief. “If I play my cards right, she’ll think she has to convince me to go along with it.”

  “I could have lived a long time without hearing that.”

  “It’s all part of the game, little brother. And you know how I love to play. ’Course, it sounds like you might be learning the rules on your own.”

  “But what if you weren’t on the same page?”

  Adam’s chewing slowed. “What do you mean?”

  “What if you didn’t want kids, or didn’t want to start down that road already? What would you do?”

  “You know, this isn’t something you should bring up on a guy’s wedding day.”

  “Sorry. I forgot for a minute.”

  “Glad one of us can.” Adam blew out a long breath. “Not that I don’t want to be getting married. You know that, right?”

  “Never a doubt in my mind.” Ben poked at the pickle on the side of his plate. “What do you do when you’re talking about something more important than whether to have the wedding in Vegas or home? How do you handle things when it’s stuff like kids, how to live your life, dreams?”

  “You know I’m in no shape to make any sense today, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.” He dragged a fry through a pile of ketchup. “I also know that this is
the only chance I’ll have to talk to you for God knows how long. And even on a day when you’re jumping out of your skin . . . you’re still my brother. I know you’ll do right by me.”

  “Wow. I don’t know whether to be flattered or feel like you just put me into a pressure cooker.” Adam’s grin made it clear which way his emotions were really leaning.

  “Well, I figure someone has to remind you that there’s a whole other world out there today.”

  “Yeah. Hard to remember that, I have to admit.” Adam stared off into the distance before returning his focus to Ben. “Don’t suppose you could make this easier by giving me some specifics.”

  “Nope.”

  “Am I right in guessing you’re talking about Kyrie?”

  “No comment.”

  A slight snicker broke through the grin. “I never did buy your line that the reason you came home from the lake so snarly was because you messed up your research.”

  “Suddenly, I’m reconsidering the wisdom of asking you for advice.”

  Adam waved off the half-hearted protest even as he stopped goofing. “Here’s the thing, Ben. I’m lucky. Siobhan and I—people say we’re so different, and they make a big deal about her money, but when it comes to the important stuff, we’re solid. We have the same hopes and we want the same things. But yeah, we have different ideas about some stuff, and let me tell you, you’d be floored at how fast something little can turn into something major league. One minute you think you’re fine, and the next minute you’re standing there going, Wait, are we really ready to break up because I thought she was in a joking mood when I squirted her with the whipped cream, but it turns out she was upset about something? Not that that ever happened, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “But no matter what’s causing the trouble, it all comes down to this.” Adam rested his arms on the table and leaned forward. “No matter how bad the problem might be, I would still rather fight my way through it with her than have smooth sailing without her. Because nothing makes sense if she’s not with me. You know what I mean?”