SIN CITY WEDDING

by Katherine Garbera

  She scrambled to her feet when she realized he was watching her. The formfitting leggings and snug sleeveless shirt left little of her body to the imagination. It was the first time he'd seen her in anything that wasn't loose and concealing. Even that night they'd made love, she'd insisted they leave the lights low.

  Her legs were long and curvy. Her hips a real woman's and not a model's. Her breasts were pert and, he knew from experience, just the right size to nestle in his palms.

  The spandex shirt clung to the full globes and Jake had to swallow when her nipples budded against the cloth under his gaze. She stopped moving and he glanced up at her face. A pink blush covered her neck and cheeks, but she didn't cross her arms over her chest.

  "Are you sure about this platonic thing?" he asked, his voice husky with need.

  "No, I'm not sure."

  He took two large steps toward her, closing the gap between them. She didn't smell sweaty the way he did after exercise. It reminded him of how different the two of them were. How different men and women were and how exciting those differences could be.

  Unable to resist, he traced with his finger a bead of perspiration that rolled down between her breasts, disappearing under her shirt. She shivered when he reached the border where skin and fabric met. He watched goose bumps spread over her skin and, hesitating only a second, he dipped his finger under her shirt.

  She was just as soft to the touch as he remembered. Her breasts appeared a bit bigger than before and he let his finger slide under one of them. She bit her lip and tilted her head to the side, watching him with hooded eyes.

  She swayed and he brought his other arm up around her waist, holding her the way he'd dreamed of since he'd opened her car door this morning. He pulled his finger free of her shirt and lifted it to his lips.

  Her pupils dilated as she watched him and her breath rushed in and out as if she'd just completed a five-mile run instead of a yoga routine.

  The salty taste of her on Jake's tongue only whetted his appetite for more of her. He leaned toward her. She gripped his biceps and rose on her tiptoes. Her breath fanned against his cheek.

  He bent and captured her mouth. She opened for him with a sigh that told him she'd needed this embrace as much as he had. Her fingernails bit into his arms as she returned his kiss.

  He cupped her bottom and brought her more fully against him. Her hardened nipples pushed into his chest. He swallowed her moan as he deepened their embrace. He reached again for her breast, sliding his hand up under her shirt this time. She shuddered when he palmed a nipple.

  He slid his mouth from hers, down the slope of her neck until he could trace the V-neck of her shirt with his tongue. She trembled again in his arms, her hands clutching at his head.

  The phone rang inside the house and Larissa pushed him away, stumbling, her eyes wide and wounded. She hurried into the house to take the call and he cursed under his breath. Pivoting on his heel, he walked to the edge of the deck.

  He braced his hands on the railing, bowing his head and breathing deeply, searching for his control. Hell, what was he thinking? He hadn't come here to make love to Larissa. In fact, considering their situation it was the last thing he should be doing. Further evidence, as if he needed it, that he wasn't cut out for responsibility. Maybe he should rethink the custody suit. He knew it was male pride motivating him.

  He heard her return, sensed her standing in the doorway watching him. She cleared her throat and he glanced over his shoulder at her.

  She'd put on a large sweatshirt while she'd been in the house and crossed her arms over her chest. He didn't know what to say to her and he had the feeling if he opened his mouth he'd say something stupid instead of acting like the rather suave guy he liked to think he was.

  Finally she said. "Peter's still sleeping. Why don't you come inside and I'll make us some lunch."

  "I'm not hungry," he said.

  "Oh. Okay."

  This wasn't working out the way he'd planned it. "Larissa, sit down."

  "Why?"

  "We have to talk."

  "I guess we do. Are you sure you don't want any food? How about some iced tea?"

  "No. Nothing."

  She sat down on one of the wrought-iron chairs around a small café-style table. He took one of the chairs, spun it around and sat facing her.

  "What'd you want to talk to me about?"

  "A couple of things. First off, I'd like to take Peter to get a paternity test."

  * * *

  Larissa laced her fingers together and stared at Jake. He was so familiar to her, yet at the same time a stranger with steely determination. This was the man who'd made D&D's coffeehouse the success it was today. And though Larissa had spent some late nights with Jake in college, he'd been more of a dreamer then than the man he was today.

  The calm she'd tried to find through yoga had disappeared as soon as she'd seen Jake. She'd gone into his arms remembering the man she'd left earlier today. The man who'd told her she could trust him. This didn't feel like trust. This felt … this felt like betrayal.

  "You don't think he's your son?" she asked at last.

  He watched her with that intense dark brown stare that penetrated through the layers she used to protect herself. She flinched under his scrutiny, tucking a stray strand of hair back into her ponytail.

  "I didn't say that," he said, running his hands through his thick black curly hair. She could still feel the texture of his hair in her hands. She clenched her hands and tried to concentrate on his words.

  "Yes, you did. If you believed me then you wouldn't need a test." She'd known he'd be angry at her for keeping the truth from him but had never expected him to doubt he was the father.

  "Don't make this about you and me, Rissa. This is a matter of practicality. I can't provide for Peter until I'm legally recognized as his father. Only a paternity test can prove that."

  Practicality. She'd spent a lifetime being practical, realistic and sensible. She understood those things, but just once she wanted the fantasies she still harbored to come true. A million thoughts ran through her head. Jumbled and confused—a chaotic disarray of her view of reality. She pulled her legs up in the chair and wrapped her arms around them. Of all the things that Jake could say to her this was the one thing she'd never expected.

  She wished now she'd run away this morning when Ms. Carmody had called. That she'd taken Peter and disappeared. Anything so she didn't have to go through this. She'd created a mess of complications she'd never considered when she'd kept Peter a secret.

  Complications that had made her regret her actions a few times—things like medical history; Peter had asthma. Things like who would take care of her son if she died; Larissa had no family. Things like being a part of a wealthy family; Larissa made enough to provide for her son, but was she denying him the opportunity for more?

  "Everything is so…" She trailed off, afraid of revealing too much to Jake. It would be different if they were just friends, if there wasn't that spark of sexual attraction buzzing between them.

  He raised one eyebrow at her in question.

  "Complex," she said at last.

  His lips quirked and he reached across the small table to pull her hands off her legs. He twined their fingers together. "We'll take it one day at a time—together."

  Together. The word scared her. She'd grown used to being independent, to being solely responsible for Peter. It was strange to think that Jake would have some say in Peter's life. Not necessarily in a bad way, she realized, which also scared her.

  "I'm still not sure that us moving in with you is a good idea."

  "Now that I've seen your place, I'd be willing to move here."

  She didn't want Jake here in her house. This was her sanctuary from the world. The one place where it didn't matter that she'd never really had a father. "No, we better stay at your house."

  "This is a nice place," Jake said after a while, gesturing to the house.

  "Thanks. It suits us. We spend
a lot of time out here or on the river."

  "I never pictured you as an outdoorsy person," he said. He shifted her hands in his, his thumbs making lazy circles on her palms.

  "Probably because I'm so bookish."

  "Bookish?"

  "What would you call me?" she asked.

  "Intelligent but in a sexy way."

  "I had no idea brains were a turn-on for men."

  "I don't know about other men."

  She smiled at him, unsure where this was going. She tugged her hands away from his and looked out at the Savannah River. She loved this house even though she'd inherited it from a man she'd scarcely known.

  "Did you move here after Peter was born?" he asked.

  "Yes, my grandfather left the place to me."

  "I'm sorry for your loss."

  "That's okay," she said. Her grandfather hadn't ever spoken to her when he'd been alive. The old man had disowned her mother when she'd first found out she was pregnant. "We weren't close."

  "I remember your mom died when we were in college. Do you have any other family?"

  "I have Peter."

  "This must have been some fun place to explore as a kid."

  She shrugged. She'd never visited here until the day they'd moved in. She'd sold her condo in Atlanta and moved here. Her grandfather hadn't kept any pictures of her mom or herself in the house. She'd found a drawer in the mahogany desk in the den filled with unopened letters from her mom. Only one letter had been opened—the one she'd sent to her grandfather telling him he had a great-grandson.

  He'd never contacted her, but Larissa often wondered if that was why he'd left her this place. Not for her and for the sins of her mother, but for Peter. The great-grandson he'd never let himself know.

  "I know you're an only child, but did you have cousins to play with?" he asked.

  "Not every family is like yours, Jake. Some of us are only children of only children."

  He put his hands up. "I didn't mean anything by it. This is a great place to raise a son. When you said he only watched PBS, I was scared you were turning him into a little brainiac."

  "I'm trying, but he has your genes," she said, trying for a lightness that she didn't really feel.

  He grabbed his chest. "Ouch."

  She chuckled.

  "I'll take that lunch you offered now," he said. Something had changed in his eyes that made a ray of hope blossom in her chest. She realized that there was no one else she'd rather share parenthood with than this man.

  * * *

  Larissa's kitchen reminded him of Tuscany. It was painted rich warm colors. He could tell she'd remodeled since she'd moved in. The houses in this neighborhood had been originally built in the fifties. But her kitchen was very modern. The large butcher-block island where she assembled lunch had a new look to it.

  "Is salad okay?"

  Not really. He'd still be hungry when he was done. But they'd reached a kind of truce on the deck and he didn't want to rock the boat. "Sure. What can I do to help?"

  "Can you cook?"

  He laughed. "No. But cutting up veggies isn't that hard."

  "No, it's not. I'm making a Greek salad, so you can cut up olives and peppers for it."

  She put on a Jimmy Buffett CD while they worked in the kitchen. The first time he'd noticed Larissa in college had been at a Buffett concert. She'd been the only one in their group without a grass skirt or Hawaiian shirt. And she'd turned eight shades of red when Buffett sang "Let's Get Drunk and Screw."

  "I love this CD. I remember the first time you heard some of these songs."

  "Me, too. I wanted to die, I was so mortified that ya'll were singing it at the top of your lungs."

  "Wasn't long before we'd corrupted you and you were singing along. Remember the next concert less than a year later?"

  She gave him a saucy grin, one he'd forgotten. For all her shy ways in a large group, one on one, Larissa was a sassy woman. "You always were a bad influence on me."

  His track record with women wasn't the best. He'd gotten Larissa pregnant and not known it. In his defense, he'd been going through a lot then. His sister Victoria had disappeared and D&D's was starting to go big time. Jake didn't cut himself any slack for those things. Some men were inherently flawed when it came to women and he was beginning to believe he was one of them.

  "Yeah, I guess I was," he said.

  He felt her hand on his arm and realized he'd stopped cutting. "I was joking."

  He put the knife on the counter, leaning his hip against it and staring down at her. Damn, he'd forgotten how small she was. He felt big—too big for her and for her kitchen. He also felt too hard for the woman who'd blushed at provocative song lyrics. "But there is an element of truth to your words."

  She cupped his jaw. Her long fingers were cold against his skin. "Not really. You've never made me do anything I regretted."

  There was something in her eyes that convinced him of her sincerity. He leaned down to kiss her. A quick embrace that held shared memories and the hope of finding some sort of peace for the future. She pulled away too soon for him.

  "We better get back to work or we'll never eat," she said lightly, stepping away from him and moving around the island.

  Did she really think one butcher-block countertop was going to stop him? He'd let her back away earlier when her phone rang but he knew they were going to have to come to terms with this sexual attraction between them before she moved into his place. "Maybe I'm not hungry for rabbit food."

  "What are you hungry for?" She tilted her head to the side and watched him with eyes that knew their effect on him.

  "Do I really have to tell you?" he asked, coming around the side of the counter and closing the gap between them. He backed her up against the counter-top, not stopping until their bodies brushed against each other.

  She tipped her head back, exposing her long elegant neck. He lifted one large blunt finger and stroked length of it. She trembled under his touch and her pulse started to beat more heavily. Her eyes narrowed to slits.

  "The only thing on the menu is Greek salad, Jake."

  She wasn't ready for anything other than teasing, he thought. Right now, maybe that's all he was ready for too. Marcus had made some interesting points on the phone. A paternity test was only one of the things he wanted from Larissa. He also needed to know why she'd kept her pregnancy a secret.

  He stepped away and went back to chopping olives. "Too bad. I had my sights set on something mouth-watering."

  She said nothing but assembled the salad and led the way out to the deck overlooking the Savannah River. She was still nervous around him, afraid to trust him, and she was right to be. He had his own plans and she was only a means to an end. As cruel as that sounded, he couldn't curb his gut instinct, which told him an eye for an eye.

  "Thanks for lunch," he said while she cleared the plates.

  "It was only a salad," she said.

  "It was delicious."

  "Thanks. I'm not really much of a cook."

  "Me either. Luckily I know how to dial for takeout."

  "I can't eat take-out every night. And it's really not good for Peter. Or you."

  "I run five miles every morning and play soccer on Saturdays."

  "I … I've seen you."

  "When?"

  "Last fall. Peter and I were having a picnic at the park. We were packing up to leave when you guys arrived for your game."

  "Why didn't you say something?"

  "I was scared."

  "Of what?"

  "My reasons are personal, Jake."

  "Honey, surely not too personal to share with the father of your child."

  "Sarcasm doesn't become you."

  "Neither do lies you."

  "I'm not lying to you."

  "Not today, right? It's funny how truth seems to be your ally when you need one."

  "Ally? Are we enemies?"

  "Only in your eyes."

  "When did I make us enemies?"

  "W
hen you kept my son a secret," he said savagely.

  "I can't believe we're going through this again."

  "I'm waiting to hear these reasons of yours, Rissa. Because I have to tell you I can't believe the sweet girl I knew in college would keep this from me. What other secrets are you hiding?"

  * * *

  Five

  « ^ »

  Larissa stood and walked into her house, unsure what to say but needing to escape. She paused inside the living room. Portraits of Peter lined the wall. She had spent a small fortune in film developing since he'd been born. She'd filled this empty old house with pictures of her son.

  With pictures of the small family that she'd finally found. She scanned the pictures, stopping on one taken only two weeks ago, Peter on the dock with his fishing pole in hand. He'd been aggravated that he hadn't caught anything and he stared down into the water with the same determination she'd just seen in Jake's eyes.

  She hurried past the photos and entered her kitchen, where she started cleaning. Cleaning had always been a chore that soothed her. It was simple and straightforward, and when she finished she could look back and see what she'd accomplished.

  Unlike life, which seemed never to run smoothly. Every time she thought she and Jake had a chance at getting past her deception, his anger reared its ugly head. And she knew he deserved some answers, but the last thing she wanted to do was bare her soul to him.

  Jake had always been the one guy she'd wanted. The one guy who'd made her feel like it was okay to be herself. The one guy who … she'd never been able to forget.

  She sensed him behind her. She put the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher and turned to face him. He had that bulldog angry look on his face and his arms crossed over his massive chest that told her he wasn't budging until he got some answers.

  She swallowed, twisting the dish towel with her hands. "You're right. I do have some secrets that I don't want to share with you."