No Groom Like Him

by Jeanie London

  “Where are we?” She had to force the words out, her voice so faint it barely penetrated the quiet intimacy, the fact she’d fallen asleep during his rescue.

  “The guest house.”

  Overlook. She wasn’t surprised. Where else would he bring her? He got out and reappeared at her door, wrapping an arm securely around her to help her out of the car. The cold air roused her a little and some barely functioning part of her brain knew it couldn’t be all that late. But the sun had set completely. She could see the lights from Overlook twinkling in the distance through the trees.

  Max unlocked the door and helped her inside. It was warmer in here, but to her surprise, he didn’t turn on any lights, simply guided her through the dark house, his body so warm against hers, so close.

  He led her to a bedroom.

  They were playing with fire. Lily had no ability to reason right now, her self-control was weakened by anxiety and bad champagne. The Max of her fantasies had melted into the reality of a caring man with his arm around her, a man who’d made it loud and clear that he wanted her. And Lily knew, she knew with every fiber of her being, that all her sane, solid arguments against being with this man would never hold up against the strength of their chemistry.

  He wanted her. She’d always wanted him.

  It should have been so simple.

  He must have sensed that she was about to object because he pressed a warm finger to her lips and said, “Shh. Trust me.”

  She trusted him more than she did herself.

  Lily didn’t resist as he slid the coat down her arms, tossed it onto a chair. He guided her to the bed, yanked back the comforter. She sank to the edge bonelessly, and he didn’t say a word as he slid his own coat off then bent to pull off her shoes.

  His hands were warm against her skin, his fingers strong as he brushed them along her ankle, a deceptively casual touch that sent a tremor of awareness through her.

  Right now she didn’t want to think about resisting the way she felt about Max. She didn’t want to think about what had happened today. That had been the whole point of stopping at Chick’s. She wanted to forget. For a few minutes, she wanted to forget everything and feel good, pretend all was right in her world. Was that really so much to ask?

  “Go on, lay down.” His voice was a husky whisper in the quiet.

  She sank against the pillows, into the softness of the luxurious bed, her senses still heightened from the champagne and drowsy from sleep. She sighed as he pulled the comforter over her, cocooning her in warmth.

  “Lay with me,” she said.

  He hadn’t expected that. She could tell by the way his eyes widened so she could see them, a pale blur in the darkness. Stretching languorously, she inched toward the center of the bed to give him room to climb in. And without a word, he kicked off his shoes and slid in beside her, all hard muscle and hot strength as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She snuggled against him and burrowed her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

  She wanted to feel good.

  And in his arms she did.

  The last thing she remembered was the feathery touch of his fingers against her cheek, his soft breaths against her hair.

  LILY WASN’T SURE how long she slept but when she opened her eyes again, she found Max watching her. She didn’t think he’d slept. Knowing this man, he’d simply laid here and held her. That was Max. Solid. Caring. Her mom was right about that.

  She wondered what came next. Should she get up? Fall back asleep? Not worry about the consequences, tip her head back and kiss the man she had wanted forever?

  Awareness swallowed up the moment. She was so completely aware of him, of the strength of his body, the way she nestled against every hard hollow as if she’d been designed to fit.

  “Thanks for saving me,” she finally said, playing it safe, her voice a hushed whisper in the quiet.

  “My pleasure.”

  She didn’t doubt that. He’d made what he wanted clear. She remembered that much. “How did you find me?”

  “Luck mainly. I thought you might have gone to Riley’s for some peace and quiet and saw your car.”

  “Wish I’d have thought about going there. It was so stupid to go to Chick’s. Thank goodness those journalists didn’t catch me. I have you to thank for that. My hero.”

  He liked that. She could tell in his soft exhalation of breath, almost a chuckle, not quite.

  “So why did you go?” he asked.

  “Impulse. No real reason. I needed to come down off what had happened, didn’t feel I could do that at home with Mom and the kids. I wasn’t ready to start answering questions or reassuring everyone. I saw Chick’s and pulled in.”

  “You okay?”

  “Didn’t you ask me that already?”

  “You were loopy.”

  “I’m still not right.”

  She felt rather than saw his smile. “Then I guess I’ll be asking you again later.”

  She smiled at that, remembering once a long time ago when he’d threatened to tell on her for drinking. He’d driven her home then, too. Such an honorable man.

  The darkness didn’t hide the intensity of his gaze, and she grew flushed and dazed. Maybe it was the after effects of the champagne. She wasn’t much of a drinker on the best of days. Today hadn’t even come close.

  Or maybe it was the power of his look that held her because in that moment there was nothing but her, him and this incredible awareness.

  He felt it, too. She could tell. Even the air between them crackled with expectation.

  They didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. She had no answers. She couldn’t even think of all the questions, not with this crazy excitement stealing through her, with the feel of his arms around her, the length of his body against her, the chemistry so unique to them swallowing her whole, making fantasy and reality collide.

  This was Max.

  She’d wanted him forever. The man of her wildest dreams, the perfect groom, the only constant in her ever-changing wedding fantasies.

  This was Max.

  And he was in her arms.

  Tipping her face, she met his gaze and what she saw in his handsome face stole her breath. Those striking eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness, a trick so unique to him, revealed everything he felt.

  Had she ever been wanted this much?

  Lily never felt as if she had.

  “Max.” His name slipped from her lips on a sigh, their faces so close they shared an expectant breath.

  She sensed his movement before his hand rose, fingers spearing into her hair, anchoring her close as his mouth came down on hers, all warm excitement, all insistent need.

  The whole world stopped in that moment, a moment where everything vanished but the feel of his mouth on hers, the taste of his desire, the reality of giving in to forbidden pleasure against every shred of reason, all control gone.

  Threading her arms around his neck, she couldn’t stop from exploring, feeling the glossy hair beneath her fingertips, the stubbled curve of his chiseled jaw, the strong cords of his neck, the pulse that throbbed in time with hers.

  His tongue swept boldly inside her mouth, and she tasted the silken whisper of his breaths, the impatience of his need. And Lily knew, somehow had always known, that if she ever kissed him, she’d never want to stop.

  She didn’t want to stop. Her body shot from drowsy to eager in one aching heartbeat. Their kiss demanded a response from the deepest parts of her. And got it, in the way her body pressed close to his, impossibly close, so eager. There was no hesitation, no unfamiliarity of a first kiss. There was only greedy appreciation and raging chemistry.

  Lily wanted to unfold underneath him, drag her hands over his warm skin, explore every hard muscle and learn him by heart.

  Had she ever felt this way, so needy?

  No.

  There would have been no forgetting.

  Not the way his tongue tangled with hers, not the way his heavy body presse
d her into the soft mattress when he shifted again to deepen their kiss.

  His arms braced her on both sides, and suddenly she could slide her hands over his broad shoulders, feel the strength beneath the fabric of his shirt. She traced the flexing biceps that still balanced most of his weight, dragged her hands down the sweep of his back until he exhaled what sounded suspiciously like a moan.

  “Tell me this isn’t real, Lily Susan,” he whispered. “Tell me you don’t want to keep kissing me.”

  “I do.” She couldn’t lie. Not to Max.

  He kissed her again then, his mouth meeting hers hard, demanding a response that she knew she shouldn’t give.

  But Lily was drowning in him. She allowed herself to be sucked in, kissing him with abandon, pressing her body close to ease this growing ache inside, hips arching to cradle what was becoming a very prominent erection.

  He trailed his mouth along her jaw then pressed feathery kisses along her neck, igniting fire in his wake, and her own breath slipped from her lips in tiny gasping bursts. And her hands could only trace his body, hold him close.

  “Make love to me,” he whispered against her mouth in between more kisses…fierce kisses, tender kisses, kisses designed to seduce away her every objection.

  “What about tomorrow?”

  His tongue dragged along her lower lip, a sultry move that was all challenge. “We have tonight.”

  Which in no way answered her question. She remembered what her mom had said about hurting him. But this man who kissed her with such hot need wasn’t vulnerable. This was a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And when she thought of the way he’d held her in the cemetery, she knew he was well aware of what she did and didn’t have to give, maybe even more than she was.

  Would she really sacrifice tonight with him, worrying about what might come tomorrow?

  This was Max.

  And Lily had wanted him forever.

  She replied by tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants until she could get her hands against his skin. He growled against her mouth, such a needy sound, and his arms came around her with whipcord strength. Suddenly he was pulling her up onto her knees, facing her with such a look of hot desire that she trembled beneath his gaze.

  Their hands tangled in their eagerness to unbutton and pull off, to push down and tug away, until they were both kneeling in the middle of the bed, naked and breathless and oh, so greedy.

  And there was nothing in the world but Max and this moment in his arms and the melting heat between her thighs.

  She touched him freely, exploring the man who had been a fantasy for so long. She dragged her hands along his ribs, reveled in this urgency, the heat of this need and the honesty of his passion. He wanted her and didn’t hold back.

  Nibbling his way down her throat, he explored her breasts with tiny kisses, the receptive peaks, the sensitive undersides, making her tremble against him.

  And when he finally pulled her to the bed in his arms, their legs twined together as he pinned her against him, and she rocked her hips to cradle his erection, sank her fingers into his tight bottom. Their time together was too sweet to hurry, but Lily couldn’t stop touching him.

  Their bodies fit so neatly, and she felt surrounded by him, hard muscle and warm skin. His mouth met hers again and it was Lily who moaned against his lips, who sought out his hard heat and eased him inside, savoring the way his muscles coiled tight in reply, the way he practically vibrated at her touch when she rode him the smallest bit, pleasure sharpening his features, a look she’d only imagined, the look of a man about to lose control.

  “Lily Susan.” There was no more restraint. He drove in deep and all Lily could do was hang on, meeting him thrust for aching thrust, forgetting everything but the feel of him inside her and the pleasure that had been a long time in the making.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Today is a grand and glorious day, mes amis. The sun is shining, the vacation has refreshed me, the past is about to be finally laid to rest so I can move on with my exciting future. And, no, I am not the All About Angel blogger. Cross my heart.

  LILY SENT THE POST off to her Twitter account and, for a change, what she wrote was really how she felt. She could have added: The afterglow was as glorious as the sex. There was some exhausted sleep then more kissing and more cuddling and more sex. More exhausted sleep. Then a shower together, more kissing and more cuddling and even more sex.

  Of course, that tweet would have been too long to post and entirely too personal. So she kept her feelings about their romantic interlude all to herself, perfectly shiny and new feelings, ones she didn’t want reality to tarnish.

  Max seemed content to leave their night as the lovely romantic interlude it was. He didn’t say one word about what the morning would bring, and when the sun rose and the morning was upon them, he didn’t try to convince her to discuss the future.

  All he did was kiss her, tell her how much he enjoyed their night together, then kiss her again. Lily was relieved. No worries about the future. No weirdness. No complications. Just two adults who’d shared something special.

  He was pleasant as he drove her to Chick’s to collect her car, stealing another kiss in the parking lot before they parted ways—him to get home to Madeleine and Lily to get back to reality, which meant not only work, but also dealing with the fallout of yesterday’s events.

  She had to talk with Elaine and put in a call to Chief Levering. Max had relayed the details about Scott’s phone call, and while she hated that he’d been interrupted on the final days of his honeymoon, she appreciated the help. The cease-and-desist letter in itself was no problem as she wasn’t the blogger. But, of course, the situation dominated the internet.

  Lily was in such a great mood that she didn’t care.

  She got home in time for breakfast with the twinnies—homemade pancakes drowned in butter and maple syrup. She spent a few hours making her phone calls and gathering requested information, which she took down to the local FBI headquarters to Chief Levering’s friend, who was personally investigating the case and working on a Saturday to boot.

  So, instead of counting down the days to the wedding—twelve to be exact—Lily found herself counting the days since that night, Lily told herself she was content with their one romantic interlude and Max was a gentleman to respect the limitations. Still, when her phone vibrated and she saw his name on the display, she thought it sweet of him to call.

  “Hey,” she said, breathlessly.

  “Bonsoir, belle.” His deep voice hinted at shared intimacies and evoked a physical response low in her tummy, memories of all the things they’d shared in the dark.

  “Bonsoir, beau,” she replied with a smile, heading out to the back porch to speak without being overheard. “I didn’t think you knew how to speak French.”

  “I have a kindergarten kid coaching me.”

  Dropping onto the love seat, she curled her legs beneath her and stared out into the dusky backyard. “Well, tell her she’s doing a fine job. If she keeps it up, you’ll be able to take her to Paris in springtime by the time she graduates high school.”

  “You’re a comedienne, too. I had no idea.”

  “There are many things you don’t know about me.”

  “Maybe I should do an internet search about who the real Lily Susan is.”

  That made her laugh.

  He’d called to find out what she’d worked out with the FBI. As far as he was concerned, he had a vested interest in the resolution of her situation, not only because he’d rescued her last night, but also because he was a publisher who intended to keep the story factual. At least the news he controlled.

  “I do appreciate your efforts on my behalf,” she told him and brought him up to date on what the FBI was doing.

  On day two after that night, Max and Madeleine showed up at Lily’s parents’ house for Sunday dinner as usual. The meal was the same noisy Angelica family affair that it always was. And Lily had been so concerned about wei
rdness between them.

  Of course, he’d caught her outside behind the garage while they were playing hide-and-seek with the kids. Pulling her into his arms, he stole a kiss that left Lily clinging to him and weak in the knees.

  And still no mention of tomorrow or the future.

  Which was a perfectly good thing, Lily told herself, since she would be leaving town in less than two weeks and would be dead busy between now and then.

  And she was.

  On the third day after that night, Lily hit the ground running to wrap up wedding preparations. When she wasn’t in her office on the phone, she was picking up gowns and tuxedoes and accessories and spare items to replenish her emergency kit.

  She never once heard from Max that day.

  On the fourth day after that night, she headed to Overlook to check out all Ginger’s preparations in the house and on the grounds. Lily was finalizing menus and guest lists and wine lists and song lists and picking up china and silver and glassware—she didn’t like what the caterers could supply—and decorations enough to fill not one but four rooms. Not to mention the hallways leading to each room because she preferred to carry her themes throughout her fantasy settings.

  She was pleased when Max showed up unexpectedly in the middle of his workday, looking so dashing and handsome in his business suit and wool duster. Lily spotted him immediately, those long-legged strides reminding her of what his legs had felt like twined between hers, all hard muscle and thrusting strength.

  By the time he got to the place where she and Ginger had been debating the merits of the various sites for formal photos, Lily was feeling a flush that started in her toes and worked its way steadily up her body, until she was opening her own jacket to let the chilly November air cool her off.

  So much for no weirdness.

  Max, however, didn’t seem similarly affected. He kissed his mother’s cheek, flashed a dimpled smile at Lily, his gaze raking over her as if he appreciated the very sight of her.

  When Ginger had to go to the house to take a call, Max took Lily’s hand in his and they strolled along the riverbank together as if he they were two lovers.