Kiss the Bride

by Deirdre Martin

  Then left the country when she’d shown reluctance.

  Okay, she’d told him she was definitely not interested.

  But clearly he’d not cared overmuch if he’d been in Qatar less than four weeks later.

  Now, Luke threw himself onto the bed, crossing his legs at the ankle and stacking his hands behind his head. He gave her a speculative look. “Charlotte, you’re not worrying I’ll try to seduce you?”

  “Hah.” Was that a scoffing sound? She hoped it was a scoffing sound. She didn’t dare discern what kind of sound he thought it was, because she was keeping her gaze firmly off his long, lean body on that big, comfy bed. Instead, she crossed to the small table in the corner of the room. An agenda of wedding party bonding activities had been left there, little red hearts framing the single sheet of paper.

  Charlotte stared at the list, unseeing. With Luke lying like that across the room, seduction was on her mind. She was back to that first night, when they’d met at the bar. He’d talked her into coming to his condo—and she never went back to a man’s place on first acquaintance—by promising he had some special salve and an impossible-to-procure-elsewhere moleskin to protect the heinous blister she’d acquired during the run.

  Who could resist a man who wanted to apply TLC to a woman’s tender spot?

  He’d knelt at her feet to slide off her slip-on sandal. It was as if he’d stripped her of all her clothes. When he held her foot in the palm of his hands, he might as well have been caressing her naked breasts. She’d melted into his couch, melted against him when he’d joined her there, was melted at the core with his very first kiss.

  Spending time in this room, spending time in that bed with him, was going to be pure torture. Squeezing shut her eyes, Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

  She wished he wouldn’t call her that. The endearment was torture, too. She wasn’t his sweetheart any longer. “I’m fine.” Opening her eyes, she forced her attention to the heart-embellished piece of paper. Her spirits lifted a little. “Hey. We’ve got places to be. Things to do.”

  A room to escape.

  “Yeah?”

  Turning toward him, she could smile again. “The guys have a golf game scheduled. The girls are going lingerie shopping.” Freedom! Maybe in the hours ahead she could figure a way out of this sticky situation.

  Luke grinned. “I love lingerie shopping.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you listening? The men are golfing. The women are the ones hitting the shops for naughty nightwear.”

  His expression turned smug. “Heard you the first time. But I have tennis elbow.”

  Panic fluttered in her belly. “It’s a golf game.”

  “Still.”

  She stared at the offending joints. With his hands behind his head, both were perfectly bent—and looked in perfect working order. Suspicion flared. “How often were you on a tennis court during the last year in the Middle East?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  What could she say to that? Spinning on her shoe, she headed toward the door. “Please yourself, but you’ll inhibit our shopping urges if you’re hanging around while we look at gossamer teddies and lacy garter belts.”

  It was his turn to scoff. “I predict there’ll be no urge-inhibition. Especially when I’m there to provide opinions and carry the packages.”

  He was right, of course. The bridesmaids went gaga over having a guy trail them through every boutique in Palm Springs. One in particular, a redheaded giggler who didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that she had her own fiancé in tow for the weekend—“out on the green, out of my mind,” she said—was hanging all over Luke.

  “He has tennis elbow,” Charlotte told the woman, with a pointed look at the possessive hand she’d wrapped around that particular body part.

  “I only want to know what he thinks about this,” the woman said, lifting a hanger that held scraps of black fabric and a tiny matching robe edged in marabou.

  “Why don’t you try it on for me?” Luke suggested, as gallant as you please.

  Charlotte saw red. As in a red lace teddy and a red satin wrapper. Scooping up the ensemble, she rushed toward a dressing room. She’d burn his retinas with another sight before she let him ogle that shameless hussy. Without giving herself time for second thoughts, she donned the outfit, not daring to check herself out in the mirror until the short kimono-style robe was securely wrapped at her waist.

  Oh, she thought, her heart starting to pound as she stared at her reflection. The satin hit her at the top of the thighs, long enough for decency, but short enough to reveal the straps designed to hold up the tops of matching stockings. The kimono’s deep vee revealed her almost X-rated décolletage—her breasts pressed together and propped up by the light boning hidden within the red lace of the teddy’s bustier-style.

  She would have given up on the whole idea of trotting out in the nearly risqué costume if she hadn’t heard the flirty nitwit giggling again. And if Luke hadn’t let out a soft, deep laugh in return.

  Steeling her spine, she swept the fabric curtain aside and strolled into the boutique. “What do you think?” she said to the room at large.

  Several of their party turned toward her. She supposed. But she only had eyes for one. Luke.

  He’d gone still. His nostrils flared as his eyes tracked over her body, from her throat to her toes and then back again. She couldn’t blame him for getting stalled at the D-cups. The garment did serve them right up, after all.

  Then his gaze lifted to her face. She nervously licked her lips as a flush burned over her skin. She could only hope her face wasn’t as red as the wicked bed-wear.

  Luke’s voice whispered in her ear. Charlotte, you’re not worrying I’ll try to seduce you?

  No. She was very, very worried it would be the other way around. That she’d be the one trying to seduce Luke. And she didn’t know which would be worse—that he’d wouldn’t let her ...

  Or that he would.

  ”Not too fast,” Luke’s partner cautioned, as they took to the dance floor that had been created by pushing aside the tables in the boutique hotel’s small dining room. “You’re leading for three.”

  He glanced down at the matron of honor, Laura, with concern. He had to hold her with his arms fully outstretched to keep from crowding her very pregnant-looking belly. “Are you sure you’re all right? Should you be sitting down?”

  “I’m perfectly fine, as long as I don’t go into labor early. But if the twins arrive before Audrey’s wedding date, there’ll be hell to pay. My dress is the size of a circus tent, and I don’t think we could get it remade in time.”

  The first bars of Frankie Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,” sounded from the small, iPod-powered stereo system in one corner of the room. “Start dancing,” Audrey called over the music. “If anyone’s clumsy, I’m bringing in a dance instructor tomorrow night.”

  Luke grimaced at the threat. As in everything about the weekend, the bride had planned this, too. Wedding dance practice. Audrey had a wooden spoon in hand and was tapping out the beat of the song on a tabletop. As he gently spun Laura in a half-turn, and then whirled her back, his gaze locked with Charlotte’s. She was sitting on the sidelines, clearly amused by the command performance expected of the bridal party. Nothing felt funny to Luke. Over the speakers, Frankie was warbling about wanting to hold his pretty baby, and damn, if that wasn’t what he wanted, too.

  To hold Charlotte. To demand she warm his lonely night.

  She was mouthing something to him now, and pointing to her own arm, one eyebrow raised. Oh, he thought, I get it. Tennis elbow, she was saying, questioning the injury-excuse that had kept him from golf but didn’t keep him from twirling his dance partner.

  So yeah, he’d lied in order to go shopping with her.

  But hadn’t he paid for the transgression? He snapped his gaze from hers before she could see what the memory of her in that racy red
number did to him. Witch!

  It had barely covered her ass, and the top had been designed to display Charlotte’s charms in a manner not appropriate for a public venue. No, it should have been modeled in private, with Luke the only audience, and with plenty of time to allow him to remove the wrap of satin and swathe of lace inch-by-inch. Then he’d—

  “Switch!” Audrey yelled now.

  The command jerked Luke out of his reverie. “What?”

  Laura patted him on the shoulder. “It means the fat lady gets to sit down and you have to find yourself another partner. Audrey wants to be sure we can alternate dancers without any awkwardness.”

  He found himself embracing the redheaded bridesmaid as the music segued into Van Morrison’s “Someone Like You.” As he’d discovered in the lingerie boutique, she had a tendency to cling like plastic wrap. Though she was thin as a rail, he kept her at pregnant-belly distance as his gaze found Charlotte again. But this time her eyes were closed and she was swaying a little in her seat. Had they ever danced together?

  That’s what would work, he decided. He’d get her into his arms under the guise of dancing practice. Once he had her that close, she wouldn’t be able to deny the attraction was running as hot and hard as always. She wouldn’t be able to run from him any longer.

  “Switch!”

  He dropped the redhead like a hot potato and strode for Charlotte. A hand grabbed his elbow. He winced. Not because it hurt, of course, but because he didn’t want to be deterred. But he shifted to meet Audrey’s eyes. “My turn,” she said. “We’ll be expected to partner each other on the wedding day.”

  Eric Clapton was playing “Wonderful Tonight.” Luke couldn’t refuse, of course, and so drew Audrey close. She was a little thing and felt as brittle as a peppermint stick. He gave her a tiny shake. “You need to relax.”

  Her smile was strained as her gaze roamed the dancers around them. “It has to be perfect,” she said, clearly distracted. “No cracks in the foundation.”

  “It doesn’t have to be perfect—“

  “It does!” Her eyes lasered in on his face. “My marriage is going to last forever,” she said, her voice fierce.

  “Of course it will,” he replied, trying to sound soothing. “But the wedding—“

  “When Charlotte’s mother married my dad, it was a complete shambles,” Audrey said. “It rained, the DJ couldn’t find the venue, and my little cousin Dean knocked over the wedding cake. Someone ran out and bought snack cakes to serve the guests. I knew that meant the marriage was destined to be a disaster.”

  A feather tickled the back of Luke’s neck. No, not really a feather, but a sense that some important piece of information had just been laid at his feet. Or perhaps he’d merely discovered the end of a long, tangled thread, one that he needed to follow, to unravel, to find the prize at the center of the maze.

  He looked over his shoulder to where he’d last seen Charlotte. Her seat was empty.

  His attention returned to Audrey. “Connor won’t care how the day goes. He just wants you, like you want him.”

  “I’ve wanted other things before.”

  His neck was itching again. “Yeah?” He was a guy, so he didn’t get all the nuance going on here, but he tried stabbing at the dark. “That marriage between your father and Charlotte’s mother ...”

  “Put the Brady Bunch straight out of your mind,” she warned.

  “Uh ...”

  “The group did not somehow form a family.”

  The words made the old TV show’s theme song play in his head. Had Audrey expected that? Was a blended family what Charlotte had wished for as well? He couldn’t explore the idea any further, because the bride-to-be abruptly swung out of his embrace. “Switch!”

  Tim McGraw took over the music-making. “Unbroken” filtered through the speakers. Connor bumped his shoulder and passed his partner. Luke’s hands automatically closed over the woman. Charlotte.

  His fingers tightened on her shoulders. Finally.

  “I’m rescuing my girl,” Connor said, striding off. A few yards away, a tight-faced Audrey was adjusting the position of a groomsman’s hand on the waist of a bridesmaid. A single inch higher, thumb rotated one click to the right.

  “He’s rescuing that poor couple,” Charlotte muttered. “Audrey’s officially hit ten on the bridal mania meter.”

  He looked back at her, using her distraction to draw her closer. With his mouth against her hair, he took her in a dance hold and started the quick-quick-slow-slow of a country two-step.

  She fluttered a little in his hands, but he just tightened his grip on her fingers and made his arms more rigid, all the better to continue leading. He knew right where he wanted to take her.

  A little sound come out of her mouth, but he continued shuffling his feet, moving her along with him. “You dance?” she finally said, her voice faint.

  “Mmmm.” His cheek nuzzled the soft warmth of her hair. He curled their joined hands tight to his chest, her knuckles pressed against his beating heart.

  They passed his brother and Audrey. Connor had his wife-to-be wrapped in his arms, barely swaying. His mouth was close to her ear and whatever he was whispering eased the tension on her face.

  Charlotte’s gaze took in the other couple, then she drew back a little to glance up at Luke. “Do you really think their wedding’s a good idea? Maybe you should be rescuing Connor.”

  “I happen to like marriage.” He wasn’t against the institution, even though his first had ended in a fiery crash. But he’d never expected he’d find a woman he wanted to be that close to again. Then Charlotte had limped into his life, wearing her independence like a crown, yet still unable to completely disguise that vulnerable Achilles’ heel of hers.

  Charlotte ... sweet Charlotte, with her sharp thorns and soft petals, had been impossible to ignore.

  Impossible to forget.

  “I tried to, you know,” he said, meeting her eyes.

  Prickly woman was instantly wary. Amazing how those pale blue eyes could turn dark with suspicion. “What are you talking about?”

  He drew her closer so he could nuzzle the top of her head again. “I didn’t want to remember how sweet you taste. Your mouth, your skin, that hot place between your legs.”

  She jerked in his arms. He didn’t loosen his hold. His mouth found her ear. “Haven’t you thought of me?” he asked. “Missed our mutual showers?”

  “Luke ...”

  “Shh, shh. It’s okay. No one can hear.”

  “I can hear!”

  He smiled, knowing he was getting to her. “Are you saying I’m tempting you, baby? Because I find that’s fair payback for the little fashion show this afternoon.”

  “That wasn’t ... intentional.”

  “Oh, lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me, honey. You wanted me to see all that I’d lost. Your long legs. Your—well, let’s just say stupendous—breasts. No woman owns a sin-red outfit like that unless she wants a man to see her in it.”

  “I don’t own it,” Charlotte said quickly. “I put it back on the hanger and left it at the boutique.”

  “Where I returned this afternoon while you were stretched out by the pool. It’s in our room now. Folded and waiting under your pillow.”

  He didn’t think she was breathing. He ensured it by letting his mouth trail down from her ear, pushing aside her dark fall of hair to find the smooth skin at the back of her neck. His lips lingered there.

  She trembled and the little noise that escaped her throat sounded like a half-swallowed moan.

  “Remember how you liked it when I marked you here?” he murmured. “Leaving just the smallest bruise caused by just the tiniest sting of a kiss?”

  “I didn’t like it!”

  “No lies, remember? But if you agree to come back to our room right now, I won’t mark you again.”

  Another shiver racked her body.

  He pushed her away to look into her face. Her cheeks and lips were flushed, her blue eyes
wide. “Oh, baby. Am I making the wrong bargain? Come back to our room right now and I will mark you again.”

  “Luke ...”

  His forefinger brushed aside her hair to touch that place on her neck, and her skin burned like a fever. “Right here.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Luke saw that his words were working on her. Whether it was because she was a writer or the other men in her life had been the inarticulate type, he’d learned before that sexy talk mesmerized Charlotte. And he so wanted her as his captive.

  Their gazes still locked, he danced her toward the exit. She was breathing fast, hot little exhalations that blew across his chin. “I want you,” he said. “Fourteen months is a long time without a woman in my bed.”

  “You didn’t ... ?” Her front teeth closed over her bottom lip.

  “Only when I was all alone. And only when I was thinking of you,” he admitted.

  The flush on her neck rushed to her face. The pink was such a pretty contrast with the icy blue surprise of her eyes. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me, Luke.”

  He kept moving in the direction of the exit. “I’ve never been less than straightforward with you, Charlotte. I’m not starting now.”

  Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. Oh, Charlotte. She wanted to ask what he was up to ... what he was after.

  But that stubborn heart of hers didn’t want to know the answer. She wasn’t ready for him to declare all the ways he wanted to take her into his life.

  Taking her to bed would have to do for now, he decided. Once they were joined there, she’d be unable to deny they should join all the other parts of their lives.

  They’d reached the double doors. He quick-quick-slow-slowed her over the threshold, and then pushed her against the nearest wall. Leaning his weight into her body, he took both her hands in his and bent his head.

  Kissed her.

  Like earlier, like before he’d left the country, like always, the struggle went straight out of her. It was the most seductive damn thing. Charlotte was all thinking, planning, worrying, until he got his mouth on her. Then she yielded, her taste sugar and fire.