by Megan Ryder
Caroline stood, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Now, let’s get you settled in and then have a glass of wine on the porch. I know this really good vintage.” She stopped and arched an eyebrow at Delaney. “By the way, what the hell did you do to your hair one week before my wedding?”
Delaney laughed at the mock outrage and also stood. “You noticed? Do you like it?” She flipped her hands through the short layers in the back, not missing the longer layers.
Another part of her wondered what Ethan thought of her new look. He’d always loved her longer hair, burying his fingers in the long strands, wrapping them around his fists when they made love. She mentally shook her head. No more thoughts of that.
Caroline flicked a few strands. “You’re lucky I love you and am an understanding bride. Thirty minutes, then wine time!”
Caroline opened the door but, before she left the room, she turned. “Talk to Ethan, Delaney. You owe him that.”
Delaney nodded. “Stop playing matchmaker.”
Caroline grinned, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I can’t promise that. I’m the bride. We want everyone to be as happy as we are right now. And it’s a tradition for the maid of honor to hook up with the best man at weddings. It’s practically in the etiquette book.”
“Ms. Manners never spoke about that.”
Caroline laughed and closed the door quietly behind her, leaving Delaney with the ghosts of her past. One ghost had been lifted from her shoulders. Just maybe the week would be okay, if she could dodge the romantically-obsessed Caroline and protect her own heart.
Delaney opened the French doors onto the small balcony. This was another favorite spot. Curled up on a wicker chair with a cup of coffee, watching the waves roll in, especially during storms. It was an oasis for her when duty and obligation got too much, even among friends. The chair remained, with a new blue and white cushion, and a small wicker table. She debated relaxing there, avoiding everyone really, but a sound from the room next door had her realizing the time.
She slipped out of the room and ran directly into a wall of male chest. Her hands reflexively went up and braced herself against the muscular body. Ethan, his body once as familiar as her own. Her hands itched to curve around and draw him closer, but her head screamed to back away. Protect yourself, danger. She listened to her head, of course, and stepped back, banging into the wall. Ethan seemed to take up the whole hallway, his presence dominating the small space. He remained still, a bemused smile playing about his lips.
She shoved against him with her hands, pushing him back. “Back off.”
He grunted but didn’t move, barely even rocked. Damn, she really needed to get back to a gym. She pushed again, putting her full weight into it, and he staggered against the other wall. He laughed and grabbed her arms as he fell back, pulling her flush against his body. The temperature in the corridor spiked and her breathing sped up, heart pounding in her chest. It felt so natural, nestled against him, her hands clasped in his, held firmly against a chest that was warm, solid, real. The buttons from his shirt had been loosened, revealing a glimpse of the golden skin that she itched to touch, to caress, to kiss. Before she could act, she yanked her hands free and stepped back.
She started to walk away, but he grabbed her, hand loosely caging her wrist, making sure not to hurt her but stopping her dead in her tracks. She glanced at the hand and then up at him, arching her eyebrow in her best old-time haughty manner. He only laughed. Damn it.
“Delaney, that never worked before, and it won’t work now.” He tugged her close and leaned down, his words lowering to a whisper. “I know who you really are.”
A stab of fear crossed her. He had no idea who she really was, the selfish daughter of a criminal, alleged, if not convicted, and a spoiled princess. The accusations from their former circle of friends coursed through her mind, reminding her of her guilt, of what she made her father do. Ethan knew her back then, professed to even love her. But how could he love such a person? Even Delaney couldn’t love that woman.
She regained control of her breathing and pointedly looked at his hand. “Are you through manhandling me?”
He let her go and smiled. “You started it.”
“Times have changed, Ethan. I’ve changed.”
He only stood there, a stupid grin plastered on his face, body loose and relaxed against the wall, inspiring her to deep and nasty thoughts involving the soft bed in her room, the wall, the beach, hell, even the truck cab. She smothered a groan and willed her body to calm her racing heart, the insane pounding of desire that had been building since Galveston. Her limbs were heavy, weakened by the possibilities of being next door to the man who got her pulse racing with just one look. She’d dated in the ensuing years, but no one could affect her like Ethan. Damn him.
Delaney crossed her arms in an effort to hide her trembling hands, to prevent them from reaching for the forbidden. “You know Caroline is matchmaking, right?”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the other wall. “I suspected.”
“So, what should we do about it?”
“Do about it?” He shrugged. “Nothing.”
She stared at him. “We have to do something.”
“Why? Unless you want to get back together. Even for the week. We could consider it a wedding gift. Make the bride happy.”
She laughed. “You’re kidding, right? A wedding gift? No, I think that’s all in the past. We’re in the past.” She barked a laugh, trying to ignore the way her heart raced and her panties dampened at the thought of spending a whole week with Ethan, doing all of the things they used to, with no pressure, no strings, just pure, unadulterated pleasure. She caught her breath at the sudden wave of desire, and Ethan’s eyes darkened, not missing a thing.
He pushed off the wall and gathered her close, hands on her waist, a finger slipping under her top to stroke the soft skin at the top of her capris, to dip under the waistband. She sucked in a breath and his scent filled her nose, taking the slow burn in her body to a raging fire. She leaned close, tilting her head up to him, lips parted in an invitation. Right now, if he asked her to beg, she would, gladly. Anything to soothe the ache of desire. She only feared she’d get burned by the flames, left a charred husk at the end of the week. But what a way to go. It was glorious to feel desire, arousal, sexual attraction. It had been so long, so long since Ethan, since anyone had held her, and she was a quivering mass of tension.
He slowly lowered his head until his lips were millimeters from hers, his breath caressing her, mingling with her breath, a tangled mess of yearning.
“It’s not like we’ve never slept together,” he murmured against her lips.
“That was before. I thought you wanted to be friends.”
His hands stopped moving, caging her loosely, but he didn’t step back. “Of course. But you can see why she would want to play matchmaker.”
“Unfreakingbelievable. Get a room, would you? There’s one right there, for God’s sake.” A woman’s voice in a snotty tone broke into the haze.
Ethan slowly lifted his head, eyes clouded with desire and lust. Delaney fought the daze of desire, blood pounding in her ears and lower still. Her breasts were heavy and throbbing, and she found herself pressed against Ethan, breath held deep inside. She shook her head and untangled herself from him, face flaming with embarrassment. She willed her breathing to slow, even out, and she turned to face the speaker.
Anna Maria Costado stood in the hallway, hip cocked out to the side, suitcases all around her, arms crossed, foot tapping, irritation plain on her olive face. Behind her, Wyatt Turner grinned broadly, leaning against the wall, a duffel thrown over his back.
“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You weren’t interrupting anything. We were just talking,” Ethan replied smoothly.
“Sure you were, mate.” Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder, and they embraced in a manly way.
Delaney eyed Anna Maria. No welcoming hugs there. She was lucky Anna didn’t have a k
nife on her, the way she was glaring.
“Anna. Good to see you.” Delaney held out her hand, pleased to see it had stopping quivering.
Anna arched a perfectly manicured brow at the hand. “Is it? Wyatt, my room is down here. Bring my stuff, please.”
She pushed past Delaney, banging her with a suitcase. “Oops. Sorry, Delaney. Did I hurt you?”
The sickly-sweet emphasis on the word hurt clued Delaney in that not everyone would be as forgiving as Caroline, or even Ethan. She had a long way to go to repair the bridges she had burned, if she decided she wanted to fix them.
“Stop being such a bitch, Anna. Why the hell did you bring so much shit?” Wyatt wrapped an arm around Anna, who shook it loose and glared at him. “Ethan and Delaney might have a good idea though. What do you think? Rekindle old flames?”
“Not going to happen, mister. No way. Not again,” she snarled. She stalked the remaining steps down the hall and into a room at the end.
Wyatt shrugged. “Love those fiery Latinas.” And he followed her down the hall and into her room, only to be shoved out a few moments later, without the suitcases and only his duffel on his back. He grinned at them and sauntered into his own room across the hall.
Delaney took a deep breath. “Shall we go downstairs?”
“Or take bets on how long before Wyatt is in her bed?” His voice held a hint of laughter.
“What makes you think that will happen?” She glanced sideways at him. “She hurt him pretty bad before.”
“True, but I think there’s a lot of unresolved issues there.” He shrugged. “Either way, it’s only a matter of time between those two.”
“Pig.” She swatted him on the arm then pushed past him to head downstairs.
Damn Caroline and her matchmaking ways. How many lives was she going to play with before the week was over?
Ethan walked down the stairs, trying to adjust his shorts surreptitiously. Thank God he changed into cargo shorts and not jeans. That could have been very painful. Delaney’s hips swayed gently in front of him as she walked down the hall and the stairs toward the faint voices in the distance.
What the fuck was he thinking, getting sucked back up in her mess? Was he so weak that his resolve could be tested and overcome so quickly that he almost kissed her? When she had barged out of her room and into him, he had to steady her. It was only gentlemanly. What followed was anything but considerate and good manners. He had practically kissed her, but then she had plastered herself against him, her soft curves fitting into his body as he remembered.
It felt good. Right.
As soon as he met her at the plane, it had been obvious she still affected him. Her very presence broke down the walls he thought he’d built so strong against her, crumbling with one touch of her hands, one whiff of her perfume. And he panted after her like a dog in heat, proposing a wedding fling. What the hell was he thinking?
He stopped at the top of the stairs, a brilliant idea occurring to him. Why not a fling? She wanted him. He clearly wanted her. Maybe this was what he needed to get her out of his system, so he could move on. As long as he could keep his feelings separate, it wouldn’t hurt so much when they parted. She never actually said no.
What could it hurt?
Chapter Six
Ethan’s eyes bore twin holes in her back all the way down the stairs. His slow and steady tread several seconds after her told her he wasn’t following her too closely, for whatever reason. She found herself missing his presence at her back, even if he was just as pissed as everyone else. He was a known entity and too much of a gentleman to be rude publicly.
But they weren’t in public. They were with friends. All bets were off.
She paused just inside the kitchen, staring out the patio doors where Caroline and Matthew stood. Brigid and someone else had also arrived and were talking with the bridal couple. Delaney pressed the heel of her hand against her stomach to quell the sudden attack of nerves spreading like bad Chinese food. She had seen them less than two months ago at the bridal shower and, while they had put aside all irritation for the sake of the day, the other bridesmaids’ feelings were obvious. But the coolness in both Brigid and Anna had been evident when Delaney called to set up the bachelorette party. Actually, coolness was an understatement. Brigid was frigid and stiff, while Anna had basically ripped her a new one about her delay, selfishness, and complete disregard for the role. Then she’d hung up. Hence the reason they had never actually scheduled a bachelorette party.
Delaney couldn’t really argue the point. She had failed in her job as maid of honor. One week before the wedding and she was scrambling for a way out. She had been so wrapped up in trying to find a way to survive the week that she had almost completely abdicated her one job.
“Excuse me.” Wyatt slid past Delaney and paused in front of her, a sympathetic expression on his face. “How are you doing?”
Wyatt had always been relaxed and wonderful, even after those trying months. She hadn’t really been close to Wyatt, the football star had always been more Ethan’s friend, but he had been a nice, steadying influence and was unfailingly supportive whenever they saw each other, which was almost never. They didn’t run in the same circle—Wyatt in football and Delaney in society. After his injury, well, he seemed to disappear, coaching somewhere away from Houston.
Right now, he seemed to be the one person who didn’t hold onto any residual feelings of anger or anything and, for that, she was grateful. She softened her grimace into a smile of genuine happiness. Impulsively she wrapped her arms around him. “Great to see you, Wyatt.”
He hugged her back then took a step back, his eyes serious. “You doing okay?”
It really was too bad she couldn’t have fallen for Wyatt back in school. He was a nice guy, smart, handsome. Light green eyes always laughing and warm. Short, dark hair that bristled gently under her fingers. And a smokin’ hot body from his years of football that unfortunately did nothing for her, especially with Ethan around. A peal of laughter from the patio had them both turning.
She pasted on a bright smile. “I’m fine, Wyatt.”
His eyes crinkled. “Fake it until you make it?”
“Something like that.” She cocked her head. “What are you doing now?”
He rocked back on his heels, a gleam in his eyes. Before he could speak, Anna strode into the kitchen like a hurricane, disrupting everything in her path. Her gaze rested on Delaney and Wyatt, and her lips tightened and Delaney wondered if Ethan was right, if jealousy reared its ugly head.
“He’s coaching football now at our alma mater, UT. The quarterbacks. I would have thought you would have known that since you stayed here in Texas. Or is football beneath you, Delaney?” She tossed her long black hair and planted a hand on her hip.
Delaney sucked in a breath and turned to Wyatt, laying a hand tentatively on his right arm, feeling his muscles tense and jerk under her hand. “Coaching at UT? That’s great, Wyatt. I was sorry to hear about your injury.”
His face tightened, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Anna smirked at him, eyebrow cocked, waiting for his reply. The air was tense and Delaney searched her brain frantically for information, trying to recall what had happened after Wyatt’s injury.
Wyatt stared at her, an inscrutable expression on his face. “Well, you were going through a lot when I got hurt. After the incident, I had surgery and rehabbed the knee but it was never stable enough for me to rely on it. I tried a few walk-on tryouts but I never got picked up. UT hired me to work with the quarterbacks a couple of years ago.”
Delaney closed her eyes briefly, willing the sympathy to fade before opening them again, not wanting him to see her pity. “I’m so sorry, Wyatt. Your dreams.”
He shot an enigmatic glance at Anna, with an underlying burning resentment. “Well, not all of us are meant to follow our dreams, I suppose. But I’m still working in football and that’s all that matters.”
Anna narrowed her eyes at him, not willing to bend at all, des
pite Delaney’s sound of sympathy. “Well, that was your choice, wasn’t it? You chose to stay here in Texas.”
“I love Texas. It’s my home. I didn’t feel the need to run away like some people.”
Anna narrowed her eyes but turned to Delaney instead. “I think Delaney is the one who knows all about running away, am I right?”
Wyatt wrapped an arm around Delaney’s shoulder. “Shove off, Anna. Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch all the time, and not just on television, people wouldn’t feel the need to run from you.” Wyatt’s voice was hard and rough like granite.
A flash of something, maybe hurt, flickered in Anna’s eyes before she masked it, pulling on her persona, Bianca St. John, from the evening drama, Passions. “Who would give a damn about Anna Costado?”
Ethan chose that moment to step up next to Anna, and she immediately dropped the aggressive pose, instead, relaxing into a light flirtatious attitude. Ethan and Delaney exchanged a glance.
What the hell was going on between the two of them? Anna had always been prickly and difficult but never this brittle or angry. She had been a drama major in college, determined to make it to Hollywood and stardom, to have a life beyond her family’s Mexican restaurant chain. She had come to college with a huge chip on her shoulder, and she and Delaney had squared off instantly with Caroline playing mediator. Delaney never quite knew how they had come to be friends but, by the end of that first summer, they were all roommates and the bitch factor had gone way down. There had been some jealousy and resentment, Anna wanting what Delaney had, but there had never been active hatred. In fact, Delaney often wondered how Anna had reacted when she heard the news about Delaney’s father. Anna had certainly never reached out and Delaney remained focused on her family, not leaving much time for her friends. The arrest happened around the same time of Wyatt’s injury so Anna was probably occupied with that but, honestly, Delaney had no idea. And clearly that was a problem that might not be solved with a conversation, if Anna even gave Delaney a chance.