He turned her around and placed her hands firmly on the table, then leaned in and whispered against her ear. “I don’t want you on your knees.”
His warm breath sent a hot shiver down her spine. “Then how am I going to—”
“Bend over.” He lifted the edge of her dress and slid it up to bunch at her waist. “And hold on.”
Hold on?
She heard him rustle with his pants, heard his zipper lower, heard the sound of foil ripping.
“What are you doing?” she asked, although it was a stupid question because she knew exactly what he was doing.
“I’m a safe driver, remember?”
She laughed nervously.
She could hear him slipping on the condom.
And then he was slipping into her and she didn’t laugh anymore. It didn’t take her long to understand why he told her to hold on. It might not be a hammer inside her, but she was definitely being nailed. She gripped the edge of the table and held on for dear life.
It was like his kiss had been. Crazy and wild and she shouldn’t have liked it as much as she did. But the truth was she loved every bone-jarring, mind-exploding second of it. It was like she was being truly fucked for the first time in her life.
She came hard and fast and so did he.
After it was all over, he gently turned her around into his arms and began nuzzling the bottom of her earlobe. “Are you all right?”
How he managed to speak was beyond her. She couldn’t even catch her breath. All she could do was nod.
“This wasn’t exactly how I pictured our first time together,” he said, right before he kissed her again. This time it was like the kisses of before. Slow and sweet and gentle.
And before she could ask him how he had pictured their first time together, or for that matter when he’d first even thought of it, somewhere in the back of her hazy, sated consciousness, she heard the closet door open and close again.
22
Her brother-in-law looked shocked.
Georgia quickly made sure her dress covered everything it needed to.
Dave on the other hand was as cool as the proverbial cucumber. “Can we do something for you, Ed?”
“I . . . I thought I heard someone scream.”
“Really?” Dave asked mildly. “I didn’t hear anything. Did you, Georgia?”
“Right,” Ed said, finally catching on. He scrambled for the door, accidentally stepping on her strapless bra in the process. He picked it off the floor like it was a lit grenade and handed it to her. “Um, this must be yours.” His face was bright red.
“Thanks,” Georgia muttered, too embarrassed to look Ed in the eye. If he’d been a few minutes earlier . . .
Ed turned around to give her some privacy. Georgia quickly put herself together.
“The movie is starting,” Ed said. “You know, Shea’s montage piece on the history of Whispering Bay? I thought I’d ditch out on it. That’s why I came in here. Plus of course, there was that strange noise . . .”
Dave nodded, still looking composed. His bowtie, jacket, everything was back in place. “You ready?” he asked her.
Dave opened the door and the three of them stepped into the main room. If they were quiet and discreet, maybe no one would notice them.
It was eerie.
Except for the light given off from the video it was dark. And absolutely quiet. The crowd seemed mesmerized.
Georgia looked up at the screen.
It wasn’t a montage history piece on Whispering Bay that had the crowd so enthralled.
It was the Bunco Babes.
“I found this in Moose’s hunting trunk,” Pilar’s voice blared through the room.
There she was on screen, holding up a bottle of liquor.
“Moose keeps booze in his hunting trunk?” It was Kitty who asked.
Frida’s face popped up next. “And you searched through it?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Right, girls?” Pilar pumped the liquor bottle in the air.
Oh my God.
It was the Bunco party at Shea’s house. But how had it gotten taped? And who had put it on screen?
The video cut to a frame of Liz talking about Christy Pappas forming a new Bunco group. Her words were so slurred Georgia could hardly make them out. And she’d been there for the original.
“From Bettina Bailey. She’s going to be in the group. And . . .” Liz paused dramatically. “They’re going to play on Thursday nights. Just like us.”
“Her husband, Bruce, is vice president of the bank and on the city council,” added Kitty. “He’s a real pompous know-it-all.” Kitty hiccupped, then did a Wilma Flintstone giggle.
Georgia looked around the room. The crowd’s attention was glued to the screen. People were whispering behind their hands to one another but other than that, no one was moving.
And it went on.
“Bettina probably strong-armed Christy into it. I mean, Christy is sweet and all but she’d never have the gumption to start a group on her own. Besides, she’s always wanted to be a Babe!”
“I thought Christy had more self-esteem. How good could this group be? I mean, they’re basically going to be Bunco-Babe-wannabes. It’s sad, really.”
“Do you think they’ll find ten other women who want to play?”
“Oh, yeah. Everyone wants to play Bunco. But not everyone can be a Babe. Too bad for them.”
This was followed by a group shot of the Babes cackling. One of them even fell out of her chair.
Several older women in the audience shook their heads in disgust.
It hadn’t happened that way. Had it?
The shot of Pilar flashing her boobs was next.
The room broke out in chaos.
Dave placed his hand on her elbow, snapping Georgia out of her shocked stupor. “I’m going to put an end to this crap,” he said, taking off for the back of the room.
It was Mimi’s turn on screen. “Man, I wish I could get my boobs lifted. Breastfeeding did a number on them. But we really need a new roof on the house and Zeke wouldn’t go for it anyway. He’s such a tightwad.”
“Roof, schmoof. What’s more important? Your boobs or a few leaky tiles? Zeke Grant needs to get his priorities straight.”
And then there were boobs everywhere.
And the part Georgia dreaded most.
“Fuck you, Spencer.”
“I said fuck you. Oh, and fuck your job too because I quit!”
Georgia squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t happening. Maybe she was still in the closet with Dave in the middle of some sort of psychedelic orgasm-induced hallucination she couldn’t wake up from.
She peeped one eye open.
Nope. It wasn’t a hallucination.
There was she was on screen, flashing her breasts for everyone to gawk at.
Suddenly, the screen froze and the lights in the room came back on. Great. It would have to freeze when it was her boobs on display.
The looks on people’s faces ranged from amusement to shock to anger. Bruce Bailey looked like he’d poured a pitcher of water over his head he was sweating so much.
“I told you those Babes were out of control!” Bettina said loudly for everyone to hear.
“Moose Masterson has a drinking problem?” one woman asked.
“Apparently, it’s so bad he keeps bottles of liquor stashed throughout the house and even in his garage,” came another voice.
The murmuring became louder.
“I always knew those Babes were some sort of secret society!”
“Do you think they have orgies?”
“I hear they get a stripper for their birthdays,” came a voice from the corner of the room.
Earl Handy banged his cane on the floor. “Who turned off the show?” he demanded. DeeDee tried to shush him, but that only made Earl louder. “It was the best part of the whole dang night!”
Georgia rushed to the center of the room, where the Babes were all huddled together
in a tight circle. Sort of like the wagons did while they waited for the Indians to attack.
“This is awful,” Pilar whispered.
“Where did they get that film?” Mimi asked, looking like she wanted to cry. “My parents are here tonight. My dad saw my boobs!”
“I know where they got that film,” Shea said, narrowing her eyes. “It’s from my nanny cam. I must have still had it on that night we played Bunco.”
“Damn that nanny cam!” said Brenda. “I told you no good could come out of it.”
From the corner of her eye Georgia spotted a familiar face. She must still be in the throes of that hallucination, because she could have sworn it was . . .
She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again.
No.
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
There in living black-and-white tux, plus of course his perfectly coifed blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, was Spencer Moody.
He reached her in about three seconds.
“Georgia?” He looked stunned. Not that Georgia could blame him. It was fast becoming the look of the night. “Is that you on screen?”
Georgia looked up. Her boobs were still there, glaring down at everyone in the room. At least you couldn’t see her face.
“Spencer, what are you doing here? I thought you were at the Bama game.”
“The Bama game?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Georgia, I told you I had to stay in town to seal that contract with Valley Tech. And guess what, babycakes? I did it! They gave us a five-million-dollar contract! As soon as I finished, I threw on my tux and drove straight here. I didn’t call because I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case they stayed longer and I couldn’t make it.”
“But I thought the Valley Tech people left a few days ago!”
Spencer frowned. “Who told you that?”
“Crystal,” she said numbly. As soon as she said it, she knew she’d screwed up. How many times had Crystal gotten something wrong? Like the headhunter thing?
Spencer hadn’t lied to her.
He’d been working, just like he’d told her.
And while he’d been driving down from Birmingham to surprise her, she’d been fucking Dave in the closet.
And loving every second of it.
Her throat began to swell.
But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe she was going into anaphylactic shock or whatever it was called and they’d have to code her. And naturally, with all the drugs they’d have to give her, she’d forget everything about the past twenty-four hours. But just when it seemed redemption was within reach, she found her voice. Which had to mean her throat wasn’t really swelling up. She was panicking. And now wasn’t a time to panic.
“Babycakes,” Spencer said, looking at her sternly. “You know how Crystal gets everything mixed up.” He shook his head. “If she wasn’t my cousin . . . I don’t know. Do you think I should fire her?”
“No! You can’t fire Crystal,” Georgia croaked. “Like you said, she’s family.”
Spencer ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up slightly to give him an adorable frat-boy look. “What you must have thought . . . Babycakes, you know I’d never lie to you, right?”
“Right,” she squeaked.
Somehow Ted Ferguson wiggled his way into their group. “Interesting film, ladies,” he said to no one in particular. He spotted Spencer. “Moody!” he cried, slapping Spencer on the back. “Why aren’t you at the Bama game?”
Spencer gave Ted a good ol’ boy handshake. “I couldn’t let my best girl here down,” he said putting his arm around Georgia.
Ted raised a brow. “After the things she said about you on that video? Of course, with a set like hers, I guess all can be forgiven, huh?” He ogled Georgia’s cleavage then pointed to the screen.
Spencer turned to Georgia, his gaze slowly following Ted’s. “Georgia, that is you!”
The screen suddenly went blank.
Thank God!
“Darling, what’s gotten into you? That bordered on the vulgar,” Spencer whispered tightly.
There went her throat again. She wondered which of Freud’s defense mechanisms “throat swelling” was classified under.
“I can explain,” she said weakly.
“You don’t have to explain anything,” Dave said, coming up behind her.
No. No. No.
Moose was with him. And Steve and Nick, and from what Georgia could make out, the rest of the Babes’ husbands.
Dave squeezed her shoulder. “Sorry it took so long to get that turned off. Someone rigged the extension cord so we couldn’t find it.”
“Who are you?” Spencer demanded.
“Um, this is—”
“Dave Hernandez,” Dave said, cutting off Georgia’s bumbling attempt at an introduction.
“This is none of your business, Mr. Hernandez, it’s between me and my fiancé.”
Georgia blinked. “Your what?”
Spencer grinned. “This is what I came down for, babycakes. To make that fifth anniversary dinner up to you.”
Spencer fell to his knees.
For the second time tonight, the room went completely silent.
He slipped his hand in his tux jacket to produce a small black box and flipped it open to reveal what appeared to be—holy shit!
The diamond had to be at least four carats. And that was just the solitaire in the middle. It was surrounded by lots of other smaller diamonds along the band. She had to practically shield her eyes from the glare.
The crowd gasped.
Smiling confidently, Spencer took her hand and gazed up into her eyes. “Georgia Meyer,” he drawled in that slow way of his that sent shivers down her spine, “Will you marry me?”
23
Oh my God.
This was it.
She’d waited five years for this day. Only not like this. Not after everything that had just happened.
“Spencer, please. Get up,” she whispered frantically.
“Not till I get an answer, babycakes.”
“Spencer, no—”
“No?” He looked more shocked now than when he’d realized it was her boobs on screen.
Dave wedged his way between them. “The lady said no.”
Spencer looked taken aback. “This is none of your business, buddy.” He stood up, toe to toe with Dave.
“Spencer, let’s go outside,” pleaded Georgia. If she could get him alone, maybe she could explain—Explain what? That she didn’t want to marry him anymore? Is that what she wanted? To turn Spencer down? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she couldn’t give him an answer tonight. And she couldn’t let him find out about Dave.
Spencer ignored her.
Georgia tried to make eye contact with Dave, but he and Spencer were locked in some sort of macho stare down to the death. “Dave, please, I need to talk to him.”
“To turn down his proposal, right?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” Dave demanded.
Spencer’s face went red. “Georgia, who is this clown? I don’t understand. I thought you’d be thrilled I was finally breaking down to propose. Does this new attitude of yours have anything to do with that . . . that film I just witnessed?”
“I told you, Spencer, I can explain—”
“I don’t think I like your tone,” Dave interjected. “As a matter of fact, I know I don’t. You owe the lady an apology.”
“And I think you should mind your own fucking business,” Spencer said, giving Dave a hard shove to the shoulder.
Georgia wanted to squeeze her eyes shut. But she couldn’t. She stood there, frozen, knowing absolutely without a doubt what was coming next.
Dave’s fist flew, bringing Spencer down faster than the NASDAQ on a bad trading day.
Georgia ran to Spencer’s side. “Are you all right?”
“That bastard broke my nose!” Spencer sat up and wiggled his nose back and forth with his fingers, test
ing it.
“I didn’t touch his nose,” Dave said to Georgia, shaking his head in disgust. “I hit him in the jaw.”
Georgia studied Spencer’s face. It was true. His nose looked perfectly fine to her.
Dave offered her his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
It was tempting. She wanted nothing more than to take Dave’s hand and run away with him. But she couldn’t leave Spencer lying here on the floor. Surely Dave understood that.
“I can’t,” she said, trying to help Spencer up.
Dave looked like he wanted to punch Spencer again. Instead, he turned and walked out the door.
So much for understanding her predicament.
Someone started shouting. Then a scuffle broke out behind them.
It was Bruce Bailey and Moose.
“Your wife owes my wife an apology!” Bruce shouted.
“The hell she does,” said Moose.
And then someone hit someone (Georgia couldn’t tell who threw the first punch) and everyone started yelling. The reporter from the Whispering Bay Gazette ran by with his camera in hand.
After a few minutes of pandemonium, Zeke Grant forced everyone’s attention with a mic.
“Folks! Let’s settle down,” Zeke said calmly. Rusty 1 and Rusty 2 were at his side, both in full uniform.
The room quieted.
“That’s better,” Zeke said, his firm voice lulling the crowd to attention. “I don’t know how that film came into existence but it’s obviously not a montage piece on the history of Whispering Bay.”
“You can say that again!” someone yelled.
Zeke stared down the crowd. “But I can tell you this. No one’s leaving until we find out what happened here tonight.”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Shea called out, “Bettina Bailey broke into my house and stole the film out of my nanny cam. I demand that you arrest her!”
“And I demand you arrest all those Babes!” Bettina shouted back. “They stole my dress!” She whipped around and pointed to Georgia. “That blue haze Herve Leger dress is mine!”
Spencer, still holding his nose, turned to Georgia. “Your dress is stolen?”
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