Best Man, Worst Man

by Stacy Gail

  “Too late.” The sound of a jar opening and the sweet scent of chocolate was all the warning she had before his finger, coated with the chocolate body paint, rested against her mouth to silence her. Automatically she opened at the pressure and took him in, her tongue coming to lick at his finger while his eyes held hers captive. His convulsive swallow was loud in the silence while she sucked the chocolate away. A broken groan rumbled out of him even as he reached for her. “God, it’s too late for both of us.”

  As if desperate to devour her, his mouth captured hers with a hungry intensity that took Claire’s breath away. The intoxicating flavors of chocolate and Ryder mingled to create an aphrodisiac designed to shoot her straight into the heart of desire, and without a thought she surged against him in her need to be closer. It was all a glorious madness—she wallowed in the need to shun the barriers of clothing, until flesh ground against fevered, sweat-slick flesh. To glide her tongue over his body and savor the differing flavors of him until he moaned and arched and begged for more. To have his masculine weight take its rightful place between her thighs and welcome the thrust of his manhood into her slick, hot depths—

  “Claire? Claire, where are you? We need to get going if we want to beat the lunch traffic downtown.”

  The blissful fantasy surrounding Claire shattered as her assistant’s voice reached her ears, and with a jagged sound she tore herself from Ryder. Ryder, the man she shouldn’t want, but did. Ryder, the one man who was the exact opposite of all she held dear in her life. Ryder, the most perfect—and deeply flawed—man she had ever known.

  Ryder.

  On autopilot, Claire brought her hands up to wipe at her mouth, erasing the lingering traces of chocolate while trying—and failing—to scrub away the fevered sensation of his kiss. “This can’t happen. I cannot let this—” she gestured uselessly between them, “—happen.”

  “To use an old colloquialism, that’s pretty much like closing the barn door after all the horses have escaped.” He, too, sounded rough around the edges, and she took meager comfort in knowing she wasn’t alone in having her world thoroughly rocked. “It’s already happened, Claire. The fire’s just going to get hotter from here on in.”

  If he had said it with seduction in his voice, Claire might have been able to laugh it off. But the resignation weighing down each word like a death sentence made her shiver. As she turned toward the door, she couldn’t help but wonder if that fire was destined to burn them alive.

  A few weeks ago he’d had the world by the tail, Ryder thought glumly as he pulled into Matt’s driveway. Sure, he’d been burned out by his assignment in Dallas and left at loose ends when it was over, but generally speaking life had been going the way he wanted it.

  Now, nothing felt right.

  Maybe his chi really was screwed up, Ryder thought, pocketing his keys. After all, it wasn’t as though anything terribly drastic had changed in his life. Sure, Matt was now less than a week away from making the biggest mistake of his life, but everything else was pretty much the same. He was finally back at work with a shiny new project to play with, feeling refreshed as he eased back into the rhythm of things. Hell, even the Spurs had made it to the NBA playoffs. Everything should be fine.

  Only…it wasn’t.

  The restlessness gnawing at his insides was driving him batty. He couldn’t settle, couldn’t feel comfortable in his own skin, and when he told himself he was still getting used to being back home, he discovered he sucked at lying to himself. He knew what really lay at the heart of his restless dissatisfaction.

  Claire.

  Had there ever been a more exasperating, stubborn, twist-around-the-gut desirable woman? Ryder wondered, heading up the shallow verandah stairs. She was both nurturing and hard headed, a dynamo of energy and sweetness that twirled him around until he didn’t know which way was up. He obsessed about her when they were apart—where she was, what she was doing. He’d even felt compelled to spend most of his time off from work to be with her, ostensibly to show her the error of her ways. But in his effort to convince her a relationship didn’t need official vows to be white hot, the only thing he had accomplished was getting himself thoroughly tangled in her web.

  That was unacceptable.

  Ryder’s preoccupied frown eased when Matt ushered him into the house, the smell of buttery popcorn permeating the air. “We have the house all to ourselves to watch the playoffs,” Matt announced with a grin. “Rachel decided to give us our man-time and left to have her hair done. We’re officially on our own with the Lakers, the Spurs and all the snack food you can handle.”

  “Life is good.” For a moment Ryder thought of pointing out how convenient the bachelor life was—to not have to coordinate schedules or get permission to take over the den. For some reason, the words wouldn’t form. “What time are the Spurs playing?”

  “Game starts at three, but the pre-game show’s already on. Want anything to drink?”

  Ryder shook his head and again thought of mentioning how their man-time would probably dwindle out of existence once Matt and Rachel tied the knot on Friday. But again, the comment refused to leave his brain.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  “Wow.” When they entered the media room, Ryder stared at the mounds of chicken wings, celery and bleu cheese dip, popcorn and homemade pizza bites. “You expecting an army?”

  “It’s Rachel.” Rolling his eyes, Matt sprawled on the sofa and snatched up the remote. “She wasn’t exactly impressed with my version of snacks—Fritos and beer—so she took care of all this. Something about protein and food groups.”

  “I’ll take this over Fritos and beer any day.” Unbidden, the memory of Claire vowing to be there to support the man she’d one day marry flashed through his mind as it had for weeks, like a song he couldn’t get out of his head. How she would listen to him and support him, to be no more than an arm’s reach away when he needed her.

  Ryder hated that frigging guy.

  “Speaking of Rachel, you’d better not have any big plans for my bachelor party Thursday,” Matt warned, adjusting the volume as the basketball players were introduced. “I have a feeling Rachel would try and tag along if Claire hadn’t already arranged her bachelorette party. I swear, when that woman’s final bill comes in, I’m going to have a heart attack. I mean, how the hell can she get away with charging those astronomical fees when she’s just putting together a simple little wedding?”

  “Claire works harder than anyone I know,” Ryder returned, his brows drawing together. “And it’s not just your wedding she’s putting together, either. She’s juggling four weddings right now, and none of them are simple or little. She stays up until the wee hours of the morning getting things done just so her clients don’t have to worry about anything except saying ‘I do’. And the only reason you don’t know how hard it is to put a wedding together is because she’s taken that burden off you. She cares so much about giving you one perfect day that she’ll bend over backward to do it. She’s worth her weight in gold, and you were lucky to book with her.”

  “Okay, I hear you,” Matt said, looking at him like he’d never seen him before. Ryder couldn’t blame him. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he recognized himself anymore.

  And that had to stop.

  Chapter Six

  Two more hurdles in the Pelly-Guthrie wedding and she was home free, Claire thought, glancing at her watch before she locked up her car in the garden’s deserted parking area. The biggest hurdle, the infamous bachelor party, was one she always sweated, but never in her life had she sweated one as much as this. If Ryder Price ever had a plum opportunity to derail his best friend’s wedding once and for all, this was it.

  She could see it now—Sodom and Gomorrah, twenty-first-century style. She’d be lucky if it didn’t wind up on YouTube.

  Who the hell ever decided it was a good idea for the best man to throw the bachelor party? Claire thought, scowling. And why hadn’t some smart woman come along at some point in
history to smash her foot down on the idiotic tradition like the irritating pest it was? She couldn’t be the only one who saw bachelor parties as train wrecks waiting to happen.

  The other hurdle, of course, was the speak-now bit of the ceremony, but that seemed a thousand light-years away in the face of her current bachelor-party trepidation. Worse yet, Ryder himself had called a meeting to discuss what kind of party he was interested in throwing for Matt, and that fact alone had her stomach in knots. Did he want to talk about setting more rules for his continued game? It wasn’t her normal practice to intrude on what the best man planned for the groom when it came to the bachelor party, but with Ryder things were different. He was the squeaky wheel, the kid misbehaving in class, the one she had to keep an eye on every single second.

  Not that that was exactly a hardship, Claire thought with a sigh, heading through the pagoda-style entrance to the Japanese Tea Gardens in the heart of San Antonio. Every time Ryder was near, she couldn’t help but watch him as though starved for the sight of him. Each fleeting expression was an endless fascination to her, and something within her heart brightened like sunshine whenever he smiled, as though just looking at him when he was happy somehow made her happy, as well. And though at first she had feared having Ryder constantly underfoot would be nothing more than an irritant, she missed him when he wasn’t there. Like a toothache, she’d told herself time and again. But in her heart of hearts, she knew better.

  She missed him.

  Spring was flaunting its finest colors in the sprawling, manicured garden that was free to the public. Native purple sage shrubs mercilessly sculpted into smooth purple domes dotted the meandering path alongside the koi pond, while the azaleas in their showy whites and fuchsias were just coming into their own, as the more gentle pastels of the cherry blossoms waned. It was unseasonably cool as she looked around the picture-perfect setting, and she supposed that was why the gardens appeared deserted as she made her way to the stone pavilion overlooking the lily-covered koi pond and waterfall. But with the place all to herself, she could easily envision the tranquil garden as a venue for an intimate, outdoor wedding.

  Then Claire spotted Ryder up in the pavilion, leaning against one of the stone columns, and all work-related contemplation came to a grinding halt. This man, she thought as she found herself torn between a smile and a sigh. How was it possible that this man could affect her so profoundly? When had he become the one person her eyes sought out? He was all wrong for her, she knew that. So why did her stupid heart gallop away at the mere sight of him?

  Because she couldn’t help it, came the instant answer. As weak as that sounded, she just couldn’t help it.

  “You picked a beautiful day for an outside meeting,” Claire said by way of greeting, and when he smiled at her, she was helpless to do anything more than smile back. While cold, hard logic reminded her that Ryder saw her as nothing more than an obstacle he was having fun trying to get around, she still couldn’t stop from basking in the glow of his smile.

  Clearly, she had to be insane.

  “Claire.” As she came nearer, Ryder took her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “How much time do I have with you?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid.” As soon as she reached the top of the stairs she discreetly removed her hand, before she could enjoy the contact too much. “I’m meeting the manager of the Tower of the Americas restaurant to discuss rates for the Tower as a wedding venue and then I’m off to Rachel’s final gown fitting. When are you picking up your tux?”

  “Thursday morning before work, and yes, they know I’m picking it up at that time, so check me off your list,” he added when she drew a breath to ask. “I promise I won’t show up naked.”

  Claire had to bite her lip to keep from admitting that from her point of view, this wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “Sounds like Thursday is going to be a busy day for you.”

  “No busier than yours. A rehearsal luncheon which I can’t make, and then the bachelorette party, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “It’s enough to make my head spin.” As if he hadn’t noticed her retreat, Ryder grabbed her hand again and drew her to one side of the open structure, where the view of the gardens was at its best. There was a white cloth draped over the foot-thick low wall of the pavilion, two glasses of what appeared to be champagne, a basket of fruit, bread and cheeses, along with strawberries dipped in chocolate. Her heart spun dizzily at the sight of it, while the scent of chocolate transported her as if by magic to the last time they had kissed, something she hadn’t been able to get out of her head since. Now whenever she smelled chocolate, she became so aroused she nearly shook with it.

  And damn it, it was all Ryder’s fault.

  “Well, well.” Trying to play it cool while her heart hammered against her ribs like a wild thing trying to get out, Claire lifted a brow. “This is unexpected.”

  “You were planning on having lunch at some point today, weren’t you?” he asked casually as he guided her to sit on the low wall. “I know your schedule well enough by now to realize you hardly ever give yourself time to eat, so I thought I’d help out where I could.”

  “I’m not sure champagne and strawberries constitute a well-balanced meal.” But she smiled as he plucked a grape from a bunch in the basket. “This was really thoughtful. Thank you.”

  “No problem.” His light eyes caressed over her like a lover’s touch as he lifted the grape to her lips. “Don’t be shy. Dig in.”

  Oh, the stinker, she thought while her body warmed as if with a fever. He’d forgotten more about seduction than she would ever know. How was she supposed to fight back?

  “You seem to have a thing for feeding me,” Claire said, and brought her hand up to stabilize his. Delicately, she let her teeth pluck the grape from his fingers, her lips just brushing over his flesh in a fleeting caress. Bright sweetness burst along her tongue, and she smiled her pleasure. “At least you have good taste.”

  “I try my best.”

  “I’m just wondering why you’re trying at all.” She lifted her glass, breathed in the bouquet, then sipped. Oh yes. Good taste, indeed. “Trying to soften me up now isn’t going to change a thing, you know. Matt and Rachel are going to get married whether or not we enjoy this lovely garden picnic.”

  “How cynical of you, Claire,” he chided her. “This has nothing to do with Matt and Rachel.”

  “Really? So you’ve made peace with the fact that Matt and Rachel will be getting married three days from now?”

  “I never said that. All I said was that this—” he reached over and caressed her hand resting on the champagne flute, “—has nothing to do with Matt and Rachel.”

  It took most of Claire’s strength to keep from flipping her hand over and simply holding on. But with Ryder, nothing was ever simple. “Does that mean you’re still hoping you can stop the wedding?”

  “Marriage breaks up people.” He shrugged, as if he were stating the obvious. “While that’s the last thing I want my friends to go through, I’m beginning to think that’s something they will eventually figure out all on their own. No, the main reason I wanted to meet with you was purely selfish—I just wanted a little alone-time with you before the inevitable wedding madness set in.”

  His matter-of-fact assertion that marriage destroyed relationships made something hurt deep in her chest, so she tried to distract herself from the hollow, relentless ache. “And here I thought you were going to try and shock me with wild bachelor-party ideas.”

  Ryder’s smile was a masterpiece of sin. “Oh, no. Bachelor parties are a lot like Vegas. What happens in bachelor parties stays in bachelor parties. It’s part of the guy-code to not talk about it with anyone.”

  “So you lured me here under false pretenses?”

  “Would you have come if I’d said I wanted to spend time with you?”

  “Maybe.” There was no doubt in her mind she would have canceled appointments, knocked little old ladies out of
her way and lied to any police who pulled her over for speeding in order to be with him. And that worried her no end. Why couldn’t she remember this train wreck of a man was wrong for her? “I do shudder at the thought of good champagne going to waste.”

  “Glad to know you have your priorities straight.” He lifted an hors d’oeuvre fork, speared a cheese cube and held it up. “Try this. It goes great with the wine.”

  When she accepted the morsel, she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t died and gone to heaven. Sure, the food was great, but to have an attentive, drop-dead-gorgeous man feed her as if she were something precious had her itching to see if she still had a pulse. “You’re being terrifyingly good to me, Ryder.”

  As always, his eyes seemed to darken whenever she said his name. “Why terrifying?”

  “I keep waiting for you to drop a bombshell.”

  “Bombshell?”

  “Like you’ve kidnapped Matt and won’t release him until after the wedding.”

  “Now there’s a thought,” he drawled. “With an imagination like that, has it occurred to you that you might be the one who’s terrifying?”

  “I’m simply doing my job. I have to think of every possible problem and find a way to handle it.”

  “So far you’ve managed to handle me quite well,” came the laconic reply. “I have no complaints. Well…except one.”

  “What complaint could you possibly have?”

  “You haven’t handled me enough.” And with that, he leaned over and captured her mouth with his.

  It was never the same, Claire marveled as she allowed herself to sink into the pulse-pausing, knee-trembling joy of his kiss. Each time his lips touched hers, it was a new experience filled with the excitement of discovery and a fresh bloom of passion. The exhilaration of her tongue tangling with his screamed through her like a runaway train and there was no way she could have stopped herself from curling her fingers into his hair and pulling him deeper.