by Jayne Denker
As crowded as the downstairs was, the second floor of the inn was nearly silent, the only sounds muted chatter and the clink of dishes and glasses from the floor below. Will couldn’t even hear his own footsteps on the Oriental carpet that stretched the length of the hallway.
He didn’t see Jordan. She said to meet him upstairs, but she didn’t say where—did she mean in the room she’d used to get ready before the wedding? And which one was it, again? He couldn’t remember. Was he supposed to try all the doors? Was there a secret knock he should have known about?
And then, as he passed one of the rooms, a hand shot out and grabbed his suit jacket. Jordan pulled him inside and slammed the door. Then flipped the safety latch.
“Jordan, what—”
He couldn’t say another word, because she clasped her hands at the back of his neck and drew his head down. Then those gorgeous lips of hers were on his, pressing, urgent. He was knocked off balance, and she pushed him up against the door. Will didn’t even have a chance to catch his breath before she ran her hands under his suit jacket to push it off his shoulders. She kissed him again, harder, breathing heavily in short gasps.
“Hey. Hey, Jordan. Hold up. Just a minute.”
But Jordan wasn’t about to hold up, apparently. “No,” she growled. “We’re doing this.”
“This?” he stammered. “We’re doing . . . this? Right now?”
“Right now,” she confirmed, tugging at the knot in his tie.
“Well, thanks for asking my opinion.”
“Do not tell me you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to.”
Jordan let out a small, relieved breath. “Okay, then.”
“Wait. About what happened downstairs—”
Now she was wrestling with his belt. “That was . . . the hottest thing ever.”
“It was? I mean, are you okay with—?”
“I am fabulous. I will be more fabulous if you shut up and take off your pants.”
“Okay, whoa.” He grabbed her hands and gently pushed them away. “Not this way.”
“You’re not going to bring up the dating thing again, are you? Last night was a date. Tonight too. What the hell more do you want?”
“I’m not talking about dating right now. I’m talking about this.” He raised a hand between them and gestured from her to himself and back again. “You and me.”
“What about this, you and me?”
“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way.”
“Oh really.”
“Really,” he said quietly, evenly, looking her straight in the eye. “Or not at all.”
“Fine by me.” And she reached for him again, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her fingers in his hair.
“Nope.” Will drew back. “My way.”
“Uh-huh,” Jordan said skeptically, but she let go of him and backed up a couple of steps. “So what’s all this ‘my way’ stuff? Do you have some secret kink I need to know about?”
“Not unless you call paying attention a secret kink.”
“Paying attention?”
“Yeah.” He closed the distance between them but didn’t touch her, just looked at her, from the toes of her high heels, up the length of her slender legs, over all her curves emphasized by that magnificent dress, to her delicate shoulders, her bare neck, her chin, lips, cheeks, eyes, forehead, hair. Back to her eyes, the ones he could just drown in. “Slowing down long enough to pay attention. Can you do that?”
“Sure.”
“Really?”
“Whatever. Can we just do this, please?”
Will shook his head. “Wrong answer.” He stepped closer, ran his open palms up her arms, slowly. Slowly. His nose grazed hers ever so slightly. “This is not a rush job,” he whispered. “Pay attention.”
He must have been out of his mind. He could have thrown her down on the brass bed five minutes ago, yanked down the zipper at her back that had been taunting him all night, and they finally could have scratched the itch that had been driving both of them crazy for weeks—no, months. But that was too easy. That would have fed into Jordan’s usual frantic way of plowing through life. It would have made it nothing more than a slap in the face to all those disapproving neighbors one floor below. It would have been memorable—God, would it—but not enough. Not like that. Not as a reaction to anything, not as an act of rebellion, and not as a frenetic quickie. His goal now was to get Jordan Leigh to. Slow. The hell. Down.
“Don’t move,” he murmured against her lips, and he felt her tremble. He was shaking a bit himself.
“But—”
“Shh.”
He let his breath flutter over her lips before he touched them with his, the lightest of kisses. Jordan must have been holding her breath, because she let it out when he drew back. He waited.
“You fucker,” she whispered.
“Shh.”
“Will you just kiss me already?”
“I am.”
“For real.”
“Shh.”
She started to argue again, so Will kissed her again. Not much harder than the last time. But before she could complain, he kissed her again, and again, each time a little slower than the last, but deeper. As he expected, she leaned in, parting her lips and reaching for him. He pulled back and gently grasped her wrists, pushing her arms back down to her sides.
“Uh-uh. Don’t move.”
“What, I can’t touch you?” she breathed, dazed.
“Not yet.”
Still holding her wrists, Will kissed her once more, finally stepping close enough that he could press against her. The sensation of her body aligned with his almost destroyed his resolve. Grab her hips, throw her down on the bed—the insistent urge almost overpowered him. He fought it. But he did let go of her wrists so he could wrap his arms around her lithe body and pull her to him, tighter. He couldn’t resist that.
And oh God, they fit together so perfectly it was like they’d been made for one another. Another kiss, this time at the corner of her jaw. At the edge of her cheek. At her temple. Her skin was so soft, and her barely there scent made him want to bury his face in her hair and breathe deeply. So he did. A kiss on each eyelid; they fluttered under his touch.
He returned to her mouth, kissed her there, just the tip of his tongue venturing between her lips, then deeper, one hand on the side of her neck as she tipped her head, welcoming him in.
Will couldn’t take much more of this, no matter what he’d told her. Knees ready to give out, he pressed her up against the closed door for some support. Another deep kiss, until he heard her whimper, the sound coming from the back of her throat. He drew back a fraction of an inch, breath heavy and ragged.
“Okay?”
She nodded, dazed, her cheeks flushed. He kissed down the length of her neck as he ran his hands over her hips and up the sides of her body, brushing the outer curve of her breasts with his thumbs. Her arms moved up of their own accord, and a small gasp escaped her.
“Can I touch you now?”
“In a minute.”
He wanted her to touch him now. Right now. But he wasn’t going to say so.
Gently, he turned her around and moved her hair aside so he could kiss the back of her neck and down between her shoulder blades, where the cut of her dress showed off her bare skin. He reached for that bright gold zipper and pulled it down as slowly as he was able, following it with more kisses.
Jordan whispered something over her shoulder. He couldn’t make it out. Then, a little clearer, “Will . . . please.”
He stilled. “Say that again.”
“Please,” she moaned.
“No. The other part.”
She stopped, puzzled, then laughed softly. “Will.”
“There it is.”
And he lowered the zipper the rest of the way, letting her red dress drop to the floor.
Chapter 27
Warm. Warm and close. And wonderful. A heavy arm across her b
are skin, light breath on her cheek. The brilliant morning light, devoid of any color, just white-white-white, bouncing off the snow and blasting in through her bedroom windows. Jordan shifted under the covers, and Will’s arm muscles flexed instinctively, tightening just a little bit, just enough to keep her there.
That all-important question from childhood suddenly came to mind—Hey, what’d Santa bring you for Christmas?—and she started laughing. Too bad nobody was going to ask her. She sure had a fabulous answer this year.
Jordan quelled the giggly tremors in her belly so she didn’t wake up Will. He looked so angelic sleeping there, his dark curls in stark relief on the white pillowcase, lashes fanned out across his cheeks. Women would kill for those lashes. So unfair. A bit of stubble on his jaw and above his upper lip. She wanted to reach out and rub her fingertips against its roughness. Such a picture of sweetness. Such a contradiction to last night.
The guy was a revelation. What had she thought about him last month, last week, even last night, before . . . ? She forgot. But not that. She’d had a hint of it—the way he’d kissed her at Cam’s Halloween party was enough to knock her out of her shoes—but she’d had absolutely no idea . . .
Suddenly she wanted to wake him up and start all over again. But she wasn’t sure she could even lift her head off the pillow, let alone participate in any more of that sort of activity without a serious amount of recovery time. Will Nash had wiped her out. Not just the first time. Or the second. Or after, when they’d waited for most of the wedding guests to leave, then slipped away without stopping to talk to any stragglers (they’d make their apologies to George and Casey another time, they’d decided), tearing hell-for-leather in Will’s Jeep back to Jordan’s house to see where the rest of the night took them.
Turned out it took them to pretty interesting places.
Jordan really hoped Bedelia owned a pair of binoculars and, if she did, had been shocked into temporary blindness. Maybe then she’d stop trying to foist Audra on Will. Because as far as Jordan was concerned, Will Nash was taken. Off the market. She called dibs.
Jordan giggled again. She seemed to have a lot of silly, bubbly joy trying to escape from her chest all of a sudden. Couldn’t imagine why.
Will’s arm tightened again, pulling her closer. He let out a heavy sigh and lazily kissed her temple. “Time is it?” he mumbled.
“Eight.”
“Mmf. Gotta go to work.”
“How’d you pull the short straw, working Christmas Day?”
“I had Thanksgiving off, remember? Besides,” he added, pausing to nibble her earlobe, “I don’t mind. It’s completely boring—nobody’s out committing crimes. Short shift, too. I can meet you at my parents’ house in time for an early dinner.”
Jordan drew back to look at him. “What, now?”
“Sorry.” He opened his eyes, propped his head on his hand, and with a lopsided grin, started again. “Merry Christmas.” He gave her a sweet little kiss. “Thank you for last night. All of it.” He kissed her again. “And would you do me the honor of accompanying me to my parents’ Christmas Day extravaganza, which is a Nash tradition, in the fashion of the most excessive amounts of Norman Rockwell imaginable?”
Oh. Well, she knew calling dibs on Will, taking him off the market, meant more than last night’s shenanigans. It meant, to him, being a couple in every sense of the word. Out in public. And with his family. She knew that. And she was up for it, really she was. She just wasn’t sure how she was going to assimilate.
Apparently she’d been quiet too long, because Will sighed again, ran his hand along her shoulder, and said, “Okay. Let ’em out.”
“What?”
“Whatever’s in your head right now—any panic, any neuroses that are starting to bloom—let ’em out. I know they’re in there; I can hear ’em percolating.”
“No idea what you’re talking about. I’m grand. I’m fabulous. I’m wrung out, loved up, happy as a—”
“Yeah, yeah—”
Jordan gave him an affectionate shove. “I said I’m fine. Get going and save the town of Marsden from itself.”
But while she burrowed deeper under the covers and listened to the patter of the water as Will showered, she couldn’t avoid the other memories from last night. Like Celia giving her a sharp dressing-down about Will. The minute Celia had learned there was something going on between her cousin and the police officer, she’d turned on Jordan with a fierceness that had shocked the younger woman.
“Really, Jordan? You couldn’t just leave the boy alone?”
Jordan had shrugged it off with a laugh, even though she knew darn right well nothing got Celia worked up faster than her relaxed attitude toward something her cousin felt passionately about.
“What’s it to you?”
“Will’s a good guy.”
“I know that.”
“So don’t play with him.”
“I’m not playing. And he’s not a boy.”
A flare of anger, the likes of which she hadn’t felt in a long time, roared to life in Jordan’s chest, and it took everything she had not to shout, or flail at her cousin with wild, swinging fists, like she did when they were kids. Even though Celia was ten years older, it had never stopped Jordan from lashing out when she’d wanted to. Last night, she’d wanted to—really bad. But they’d been in the middle of a huge crowd, and of course Marsden residents were always listening. . . and watching.
Instead, Jordan had clenched her teeth and put on a fake smile. “That’s not going to happen.”
Celia had snorted and crossed her arms, inspiring Jordan to decide—with apologies to Niall—to let the air out of the tires on their rental car later. Niall had come back from the bar with two glasses of wine at that moment. “Damn, lucky they like us around here. Casey snuck me some of the good stuff instead of Paulie’s . . . Waaait a minute. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” the women had chorused, Celia with fake cheerfulness and Jordan with a more accurate growl.
“Right. No fisticuffs, you two. It’s Christmas, and love is in the air. Where’s your man, Jordan?”
“Getting drinks.”
“Must’ve missed him in the crowd. Hey, did you see who Audra was hooking up wi—”
But Celia hadn’t been about to let it go. “You’re just going to chew him up and spit him out like you do with every guy. God forbid you actually let yourself get attached or anything.”
“Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“Ladies . . .” Niall had tried to intervene.
Trying to distract her cousin, Jordan had changed tack. “Hey, can you blame me if I want what you have?”
“You can’t have Niall.”
“No kidding. He can hardly keep his hands off you.”
It was true. Niall had never been more than a few feet away from Celia at any time, usually closer—close enough for physical contact, even if it was just to brush her hair with his hand or link his little finger with hers, as though he were afraid she’d float away if he didn’t. Jordan had thought it was a little weird, but everyone else had been pleased, taking it as a sign that the against-the-odds pairing of a sweet, quiet, small-town girl and a wild, raucous movie star was going to last. They needed Celia and Niall to succeed, as reassurance that fairy tales did come true. It had occurred to Jordan the town might not be so invested in her and Will.
“I just can’t believe you’re serious about this,” Celia had snapped.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re never serious. About anything.”
Then she’d gotten a second dose of negativity immediately, from Missy Preston. It had been enough to make her snap. Until Will had rescued the whole situation, bless him. He’d chosen her.
He’d chosen her.
He hadn’t even hesitated.
It was no wonder she’d felt the need to jump him immediately. She wasn’t surprised Will had worried that her chosen approach last night, alarmingly similar to a shark fee
ding frenzy, was to get them to the point of no return, right then, just to prove something.
Jordan wasn’t sure, herself, but it hadn’t mattered. He’d even defused that twisted intention. Repeatedly. Now she had to face the fact that jumping a guy, no matter the underlying motivation, didn’t prove you were serious. Being with him afterward—even spending hours at his parents’ house at a holiday dinner (her personal vision of hell)—was what counted.
So when a damp-haired Will came back into the bedroom, dressed, and bent over the bed to kiss her goodbye, she smiled up at him and said, “I’ll see you at your mom and dad’s later,” and was gratified to see his face light up with relief.
“You’re sure?”
“Totally. But I don’t have any presents for your family.”
“Don’t worry about it. They’ll just be happy to have you there.” He paused. “Now, which brother of mine would you like to take you back to the inn to get your car?”
Jordan groaned. “You mean who’s going to witness my reverse walk of shame? None, thank you.”
“It takes a while on foot, you know.” He looked out the window. “And it snowed some more too.”
“You know the last thing this slug would ever do is walk all the way to George and Casey’s.”
He smiled at her. “I know, slug. Well, looks like you won’t have to.”
Jordan got out of bed to see what he was looking at; when the cold air hit her bare skin, she shivered and snuggled up against Will. “What?”
“Somebody drove your car back for you. It’s in the driveway.”
She buried her face in his chest as he put his arms around her. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Who had your extra set of keys?”
“George.”
“There you go. The good and the bad of Marsden, all rolled up in one gesture.”
“And now everybody knows.”
“You expected privacy? Nice try. Now take two steps back, ma’am, before you distract me from my sworn civic duty.”