First Dance - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 03]

by Karen Kendall

  The sound of a foot stamping reverberated throughout the boutique. "No, it's, like, not all right! You are here to give me good service and, like, a bridal gown of my dreams. If I want to make changes and then, like, change the changes, then it's my pre-posterance to do that."

  Preposterance ? Viv shook her head, and then turned at the sound of J.B. clearing his throat. "Will this do?"

  Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. Anglin was one gorgeous man in boots and snug Levi's. But Anglin in a tuxedo was a whole other ball game tall and sleek, his tousled blond hair lending the formal wear an irresistible recklessness. His wide shoulders contrasted with the narrow edge of snowy white shirt that showed underneath the jacket. His eyes held a mocking glint that utterly uncivilized the civilized attire.

  She wanted to rip it off him.

  Viv lowered her lids so that he couldn't read and take advantage of her desire. "Yes. I think that will do just fine."

  "Excuse me, Tammy. I'll be right back." Mrs. Run-dell's voice preceded her and then she appeared, wild-eyed. When she caught a glimpse of J.B. she stopped in her tracks, mouth open. "Oh, my," she said. "Oh, my." Mrs. R went so far as to grab a bridal accessories flier and fan herself with it.

  Anglin actually blushed, which was endearing.

  "You look just like that Longview boy, Matthew McCon-whatever," Mrs. Rundell said in worshipful tones. "Only better, with those green eyes."

  "Jude Law," said Vivien before she could stop herself. "With a Brad Pitt swagger."

  "A cowboy 007," sighed Mrs. R.

  Anglin snorted and then guffawed. "Ladies, ladies. How much were you paid to say these things?" He began to undo the studs in his cuffs, until he caught both of them staring at him like starving jungle cats, waiting for the plastic wrap to be removed from a slab of beef.

  He laughed uneasily and stuck a thumb in the direction of the fitting room. "I'll, uh, be in there."

  Viv and Mrs. Rundell stared at his retreating butt, Viv blatantly and Mrs. R covertly. They exchanged a long, female look of perfect understanding.

  A loud, two-fingered whistle sounded from the back. "How long do I have to wait here?" Tammy Dear was back to being charming.

  Mrs. Rundell assumed a hunted expression. "Just one moment, hon. I'm still trying to reach the bou tique's owner about the petticoat and return policy." She scuttled in the direction of the phone, but then noticed Viv look at her watch. "Oooooh, sorry." A step-ball-change and she was scurrying toward a different back room, full of racks of plastic-shrouded dresses.

  Moments later she returned with one and ushered Viv quickly to a dressing room. "I'll be with you just as soon as I can, okay?"

  "I'm fine," Viv told her. "I don't do tantrums."

  Mrs. R nodded gratefully and braced herself once again for Bridezilla. Viv shut the dressing room door and heard the saleslady talking with the owner shortly afterward.

  Tammy Dear didn't take the news of the store policy well, and began to carry on while Viv listened in disbelief. If Mrs. R had a meltdown and assaulted the little bitch-princess, she'd defend her in court for free.

  She took a deep breath and gazed in abject fear at the opaque plastic bag that held The Dress. She reached a trembling hand out for the zipper, closed her eyes and gave it a tug.

  Would Julia garb them all as Little Bo Peep triplets?

  Down, down, down traveled the zipper, sinking to the level of her heart. Viv braced herself and opened her eyes.

  J.B. strode toward the front of the shop, the plastic-shrouded penguin suit hanging from his finger behind him. Nobody was up at the front. Viv must be meeting her fate as a bridal accessory. He ran his tongue over his teeth and smirked. He hoped the dress had lace and ruffles all over it.

  His grin faded as he listened to the nasty little chick in the back fitting room, berating poor Mrs. Rundell. Violence never solved anything, but some people just needed a good slap upside the head.

  "Do I have to go to, like, Dallas for my dress? Houston? Because this is ridiculous. I want to talk to the owner. Like, now !"

  "Tammy, she can only be reached by cell phone and I'm not at liberty to give you that number."

  "Then you call her and let me talk to her."

  "I'm afraid I can't do that right now."

  "Yes, you can. It's a simple little matter of, like, punching some buttons, Mrs. Rundell. You do know what a button is?"

  "This is not a good time to do that. Trust me."

  "Trust you? You've been giving me, like, the run-around since I came in here today. Call her and tell her to come down here immediately!"

  "Tammy, calm down. I'm sorry, but the owner is in the hospital with her sister, who's undergoing minor surgery."

  "You're just making that up."

  Mrs. R gasped. "I most certainly am not, young lady"

  J.B. shook his head in disgust.

  "Anglin?" Viv's voice called. "Can you give me a hand here, since the staff is on the battlefield?"

  "Yeah." He walked in the direction of her voice. "Where are you?"

  She waved at him from over the top of the door.

  "Zip me up?" The louvered doors swung open as she pushed through them, holding the dress together, and turned. J.B. just stared.

  Vivien Shelton had the sexiest back of any woman alive. Long and elegantly, sleekly muscled, it was completely bare to his gaze. Every vertebra winked at him, punctuated her sensuality. Her shoulders gleamed, smooth and soft under the boutique lightingbeckoning a caress.

  Seeing her naked back brought memories of New York. How perfect her body was, except for slightly knobby knees and longer middle toes that he found endearing: the Achilles' heels of her beauty. They made her human, somehow.

  She'd been voracious and almost fierce in bed, certainly not waiting for him to make the first moves. He'd finally pinned her playfully, gently, and forced her to calm down. That had surprised her: that he preferred slow and thorough to fast and furious.

  "J.B.?"

  He bunked. "Yeah."

  She moved toward him, holding the two edges of the dress, which was a beautiful, simple, peacock blue silk with spaghetti straps and a V-neckline. Not a ruffle to be seen on it. The color set off her almost black hair and mirrored her eyes. It was a stunning dress.

  He didn't want to zip it up. He wanted to push it down, puddle the bodice around her waist and palm those gorgeous breasts of hers. She had small, perfect, pale pink nipples and he still remembered what they'd felt like in his mouth, what they'd tasted like.

  J.B. wanted to ruck up the skirt of this dress and slip his hands into her skimpy panties, grab two handfuls of sensual, sweet ass. He wanted to skim his hands around to the front, then, and play her cleft like a Stradivarius until she sang with pleasure.

  He took hold of the two open edges, moved his hand down to take the zipper tab. And he found his fingers brushing her naked spine instead, from the base up to the nape of her neck.

  Viv caught her breath and a tremor ran through her: one so deep he could feel it. She met his eyes in the mirror, her lower lip caught in her teeth, and he was gone.

  He bent his head to the curve of her neck and touched his lips to her heated skin. Another deep shudder went through her, and he moved his mouth to her shoulder, the zipper forgotten. He kissed, licked, then bit.

  J.B. turned her to him and saw that her blue eyes had gone smoky. He put his hands on either side of her face and held her prisoner while he took her mouth: the mouth he'd been hungry for all this time. Three long years of frustrated memories and puzzled disgust had built up a lot of passion. Viv'd be lucky to have a mouth left to argue with once he was done

  He wanted to love her, to punish her, to excite her all at once. It didn't make any sense, but she seemed to understand it anyway because she couldn't seem to get enough of him.

  He tangled his hands in her hair and shoved his knee between her thighs. If we weren't in a blasted

  bridal boutique I'd take her right here on the floor, on the sill
y gilt stool, and standing up against the fussy, satin-upholstered wall.

  Damn it! He'd finally gotten her where he wanted her, half dressed and half crazy with desire. And they were in a semipublic place where he couldn't do a thing in hell about it.

  You're a cruel, cruel man sometimes, God. Laughing at our human antics.

  J.B. slipped his hands inside the open bodice of Viv's dress and decided he didn't give a hoot where they were. He had to feel the weight of her breasts in his palms, had to roll her nipples between his fingers.

  She gasped at the contact and whispered, "Oh, yes. Please"

  It undid him. Manhattan's top divorce attorney, pleading with him to satisfy her, to pet her, to love her. If he got any harder

  He froze at another gasp behind them, coming to his senses. "Oh-my-God!" Tammy Dear's voice was completely unwelcome. "Would you, like, animals just, like, get a room?"

  J.B. wanted to ruck up the skirt of this dress and slip his hands into her skimpy panties, grab two handfuls of sensual, sweet ass. He wanted to skim his hands around to the front, then, and play her cleft like a Stradivarius until she sang with pleasure.

  He took hold of the two open edges, moved his hand down to take the zipper tab. And he found his fingers brushing her naked spine instead, from the base up to the nape of her neck.

  Viv caught her breath and a tremor ran through her: one so deep he could feel it. She met his eyes in the mirror, her lower lip caught in her teeth, and he was gone.

  He bent his head to the curve of her neck and touched his lips to her heated skin. Another deep shudder went through her, and he moved his mouth to her shoulder, the zipper forgotten. He kissed, licked, then bit.

  J.B. turned her to him and saw that her blue eyes had gone smoky. He put his hands on either side of her face and held her prisoner while he took her mouth: the mouth he'd been hungry for all this time. Three long years of frustrated memories and puzzled disgust had built up a lot of passion. Viv'd be lucky to have a mouth left to argue with once he was done

  He wanted to love her, to punish her, to excite her all at once. It didn't make any sense, but she seemed to understand it anyway because she couldn't seem to get enough of him.

  He tangled his hands in her hair and shoved his knee between her thighs. If we weren't in a blasted

  bridal boutique I'd take her right here on the floor, on the silly gilt stool, and standing up against the fussy, satin-upholstered wall.

  Damn it! He'd finally gotten her where he wanted her, half dressed and half crazy with desire. And they were in a semipublic place where he couldn't do a thing in hell about it.

  You're a cruel, cruel man sometimes, God. Laughing at our human antics.

  J.B. slipped his hands inside the open bodice of Viv's dress and decided he didn't give a hoot where they were. He had to feel the weight of her breasts in his palms, had to roll her nipples between his fingers.

  She gasped at the contact and whispered, "Oh, yes. Please"

  It undid him. Manhattan's top divorce attorney, pleading with him to satisfy her, to pet her, to love her. If he got any harder

  He froze at another gasp behind them, coming to his senses. "Oh-my-God!" Tammy Dear's voice was completely unwelcome. "Would you, like, animals just, like, get a room?"

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Viv yanked up her dress and clamped her arms over it. She glared daggers at the most evil bride in Texas. J.B. raised a brow at Tammy. "I'd love to get a room," he said calmly. "That's a great idea." He turned to Vivien. "Do you want to stay somewhere on Town Lake? We'll get a nice view of the bats at sunset."

  She blinked. "Bats? What are you talking about? No!"

  "Austin's Town Lake bats are nationally famous." Viv blinked, then disregarded him and turned to Tammy. "You," she said, pointing. "Bridezilla." The girl's jaw dropped. " What did you call me?"

  "Bridezilla. You are a piece of work! I'd advise you to pop a few Xanax and look up the word 'nice' in the dictionary, or your wedding party is going to assassinate you. With the help of a few other people."

  "You can't, like, talk to me that way, you slut!"

  "Yes I can, and it's about time somebody did. You need to treat the people around you with respect and quit making their lives hell, just because you feel like it. Mrs. Rundell has been absolutely wonderful to you, and you are treating her like shit. Stop it!"

  Tammy Dear dissolved into full meltdown mode, screaming unintelligible words out of a beet red slab of twisted face.

  Mrs. R closed her eyes, stuck her fingers in her ears and looked as though she were praying.

  Viv looked at J.B., who remained impassive. "What d'you think?" she asked. "Will her groom drown Bridezilla in the champagne fountain? Or will his mother suffocate her in her own wedding cake?"

  He pursed his lips while Tammy Dear screamed some more, most of the words unprintable. "I feel certain," he said, "that it will be her maid of honor, who will brain her with an ice sculpture."

  Viv brightened. "The caterer! He'll poison her cream puffs."

  "No. That would kill off everybody with a sweet tooth. Only she should die. Everyone else should enjoy the party," J.B. joined in.

  "You're right." Viv thought for a moment. "I've got it! Remember Elizabeth I, and the poisoned dress from Mary, Queen of Scots?"

  "Bingo." He looked at Bridezilla, who'd stopped to gasp for breath. "Better be a lot sweeter to Mrs. R, darlin'. She'll have custody of your gown until the day you put it on." He aimed a bland smile at her while Mrs. Rundell pretended to cough in the background.

  "You two are, like, sick ." Tammy whispered the words, probably because her throat was raw from all the screaming. "Get away from me."

  "Happy to oblige, ma'am." J.B. was at his most genial. He turned to Viv and grinned. "Now get dressed, you slut, so I can undress you somewhere else, without an audience."

  "You can't, like, talk to me that way!" Viv said to J.B., once they'd collapsed laughing in his truck.

  "Did you see the look on her face?"

  "Priceless. I'd probably do it again just for that, but I couldn't stand how she was treating Mrs. R."

  J.B. shook his head. "I don't know why she didn't tell the little princess to shove her attitude where the sun don't shine."

  Viv sobered. "Probably because she needs that job to pay her rent."

  He nodded, started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. Then he said, "That was nice work back there, Shelton. Standing up for Mrs. Rundell. Most people would have stayed out of the situation."

  She shrugged uncomfortably. "It was nothing."

  He glanced at her. "That's just not true. Accept the compliment."

  Viv changed the subject. "I'm thinking we should write the owner a letter in case Little Miss Ugly decides to cause trouble."

  "Good idea."

  Viv shot him a sidelong glance. "J.B.? Something's not right, here."

  "You think?"

  "I think. Because we're actually agreeing. We're in harmony. We're laughing together."

  "Sshhh. Don't tell anyone. You hungry? I know some great places to eat in Austin."

  "It's barely eleven o'clock."

  He shrugged, then shot her a look full of evil intent. "You want to go shack up somewhere in a hotel?"

  Yes. But I'm not about to admit it . "Are you really willing to risk that with me again?" she asked. "I mean, this time I might throw you out without complimenting your performance."

  He let out his breath in a hiss. "You know, you really need to be taught a lesson, Miz Shelton."

  "Ooooh. By a big strong man such as yourself?" She batted her lashes at him. "Are you offering to spank me, J.B.?"

  "Do not tempt me." He gritted his teeth and drove through downtown Austin, casting a longing glance in the direction of Fourth Street as they passed it. "Best Interior Mexican food to be found in the city: Manuel's. The cheese enchiladas verdes , the ceviche, the salsa"

  "Are they open at eleven?"

  "Prob
ably not." He sighed. "Best Tex-Mex: Chuy's. Best Italian: Mezzaluna. Best amazing gourmet food with a Southwest/Latin flavor: Jeffrey's. I used to walk there from my condo."

  "So what you're trying to say is that you're hungry?"

  "Yep. There's only one thing that could distract me from food."

  "Teaching me a lesson?"

  He ran his gaze over her body and nodded slowly.

  "Will it be a thorough lesson, from A to Z?"

  "Oh, yeah. You can bet on that."

  Viv almost purred. "Really, Professor? Then let's get on with it."

  He sent her a wide, slow, lazy smile. "Well, all righty then."

  J.B. took Mopac to 290 and searched for the perfect location: a long stretch of country road where he could have his way with Miss Vivvie.

  She gazed at him suspiciously when he slowed and began to pull over. "You're not serious," she said. "Not here."

  "Good as any place, I reckon." J.B. put the gearshift in first and cut the engine. "C'mere, darlin'. Give me some sugar."

  Viv reared back. "You actually think that I'm going to do this by the side of the highway ?!"

  "You got a better idea? Where else should we do it?" J.B. got out of the driver's side and walked around to her door while she gaped at him.

  He swung it open and put his hand on her knee.

  She jerked it away.

  "What's the problem?" he grumbled. "You told me clearly that we should get on with it."

  "I meant in a hotel room!"

  J.B. straightened up and widened his eyes. "You New York gals sure are strange, Vivvie. How the hell you gonna learn to drive in a hotel room?"

  "Drive?"

  "Well, what other kind of lesson did you think I had to teach you?" He shook his head at her. "Ohhhhh. Why, you dirty-minded little vixen, you!" He slapped her on the ass. "Now scoot over, honey. You just grip that wheel like you were plannin' on grippin' my ears."

  Viv's jaw dropped open. "Youyouyou"

  "Cat got your tongue?" He slid in beside her, bumping her over with his hip.