by Gina Wilkins
“I’m not afraid of you, Bryan.”
His face was very close to hers now. “Then maybe you’re afraid of your own feelings.”
“That’s ridicu—”
The man had an exasperating habit of kissing her right in the middle of her sentences. She had swallowed so many words lately, she’d probably gained an extra pound or two. He made her so darned crazy that she wrapped her arms around his neck and almost angrily kissed him back.
Twisting in his seat, he enveloped her in an embrace that nearly squeezed all the air from her lungs. His mouth was hard and demanding on hers. There was nothing tentative about this kiss, no holding back on either side.
Bryan had always been very careful to control his hands when he kissed her before; this time he let them roam. And, oh, was he good with them!
Her loose summer top proved no hindrance to his explorations. For the first time, she felt the heat of his palms on the bare skin of her sides and her back. And when his hands slipped between them and moved upward, her breasts ached to feel his touch there, as well.
She had fantasized about having him touch her more often than she cared to admit, dreamed of making love with him more times than she could remember. And he was absolutely right—it scared her senseless.
Because she had also fantasized about touching him, and because this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so, she unlocked her arms from around his neck and slid them down his chest. Her fingers flexed against him, testing the solid feel of him, and she marveled again that he was more firmly muscled than his slender build would indicate at first glance.
Her imagination was definitely in high gear now, as she imagined how he would feel beneath his finely tailored clothes.
She shuddered when his hands finally closed over her breasts, his thumbs moving lazily, yet skillfully, over the thin fabric of her bra. A sound escaped her, muffled by his mouth against hers.
Excitement and a growing need for oxygen were making her dizzy. She clutched at his forearms, and she couldn’t have said whether her intent was to pull his hands away or to hold them more tightly against her.
This time it was Bryan who made a choked sound. She knew immediately that it was not a murmur of pleasure. Realizing that she was tightly gripping his left forearm—she could feel the bandages beneath his jacket sleeve—she gasped, tore her mouth from beneath his, and immediately dropped her hands. “I hurt your arm. I’m so sorry—”
Shaking his head, he steadied her when she would have jerked away from him. “It’s okay,” he said. “You just happened to brush against the only small part of my arm that’s still a little raw. It was an accident, and no damage was done. I hardly even feel it now.”
She felt terrible that she had gotten so carried away with her own sensations that she’d forgotten about his injuries. “Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you should—”
“Grace,” he cut in firmly, “I’m fine. Really. It was just a twinge.”
Hastily rearranging her clothes, she wondered how on earth everything had gotten so out of hand. Hadn’t they been arguing? Hadn’t she been intent on getting out of this car and safely locked inside her apartment to avoid any more kisses or serious conversation? Hadn’t she told herself before she’d left for this dinner tonight that if Bryan did try to kiss her again, she would let him know firmly and finally that she wasn’t interested?
So much for even trying to pretend that she was completely unaffected by his kisses.
Bryan shifted back into his own seat, carefully lifting himself away from the gearshift that must have been digging into him during their embrace. “I think I’m getting too old for make-out sessions in a sports car,” he murmured. “Maybe I should buy a mini-van.”
Her hands were shaking when she lifted them to her tumbled hair. “Don’t bother on my behalf. This is not going to happen again.”
“You’re probably right. From now on, we’d better keep our kisses behind closed doors. We never know when a tabloid photographer might pop up.”
She groaned at the thought of seeing a front-page tabloid snapshot of herself and Bryan groping each other in his car. And then, after processing everything he had said, she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. From now on, unless it’s necessary for the sake of our public act, there will be no more kisses. Period.”
“And why is that?” he asked genially.
“Because there’s no purpose in it. No future to it. You and I will be going our separate ways in a few weeks, and I’m not interested in a temporary dalliance during that time.”
“And if I were to reply that I’m not interested in a temporary dalliance, either?”
Was he implying that he was thinking long-term? That he wasn’t planning to disappear from her life when the wedding was behind them and the need for deception was no longer an issue?
If so, he needed to be set straight about that, too. “Then I would say, good. I’m glad you aren’t going to be giving me any problems.”
He studied her in a way that made her wonder if he could see the nerves shimmering just beneath the surface of her deliberately stern expression. “I’m not sure you understood what I meant.”
“Maybe you’re the one who isn’t understanding,” she countered.
“And maybe we should wait and have this discussion another time. After the wedding, perhaps, when some of the pressure is off.”
The only thing she intended to say to him after the wedding was, “So long, Bryan. It’s been interesting.”
Keeping that thought to herself, she reached for her door handle. “I’ll see you Friday night at the rehearsal. I’ll be pretty busy until then.”
“I understand. You need some time to think about what’s happening between us.”
“Nothing is—” She stopped and drew a deep breath, aware that nothing would be accomplished by an argument now. Not while her emotions—and presumably his—were still running so high. “Good night, Bryan.”
“Good night, Grace.” He didn’t offer to walk her up, most likely because he knew she would refuse. She grimly suspected that he would know when she arrived safely at her door. He probably had someone posted in her hallway to report to him.
She climbed out of the car and started to close the door behind her. With a sigh, she paused and looked back inside. “Are you okay to drive? Your arm, I mean.”
His smile made her sorry she’d given in to the impulse to ask. Obviously he’d misinterpreted her very natural concern. “I’ll be fine, darling. But thank you for asking.”
She stepped away from the car and shut the door firmly. She didn’t slam it—no matter how irritated she was with Bryan, she couldn’t bring herself to mistreat that beautiful vehicle—but she made her frustration clear. And then she turned on one heel and marched toward the elevator, her chin high, her shoulders squared.
“Do a guy a favor and look where it gets me,” she muttered beneath her breath, stabbing at the call button with her forefinger. “I sat through that gosh-awful boring meal with his parents, I smiled for that stupid photographer so they could pretend to be a happy family and what do I get for my kindness and generosity? A headache, that’s what!”
Massaging her temples, she stepped into the elevator and leaned against the back wall. It wasn’t only her head that ached, she thought with a scowl, rubbing at another ache in the center of her chest. And that was one pain she was afraid would only get worse during the next few days.
Donovan was unbelievably calm on his wedding day. Bryan watched his friend in amazement, wondering why he wasn’t sweating or stammering or something.
Bryan knew his old buddy didn’t like dressing up or being the focus of attention. And yet here he was, dressed in a tux and preparing to step out in front of a church full of people—and he didn’t even look nervous.
He actually looked happier than Bryan had ever seen him.
“You’re sure you want to go through with this, Donovan?” Jason Colby asked as he adjusted the sleeves o
f his own tuxedo jacket. “I can smuggle you out of here before anybody catches on.”
Donovan chuckled. “Thanks, but I haven’t changed my mind. I’m staying.”
Jason heaved a heavy sigh and looked at Bryan. “She’s brainwashed him, boss. Got him thinking he wants to give up his freedom.”
“I’m thinking Donovan’s not giving up anything. But he’s gaining a hell of a lot.”
Jason groaned. “Damn. You’ve been brainwashed, too. Next thing I know, you’ll be buckling a ball and chain around your own ankle.”
Smiling a little in response to his security chief’s broad Texas drawl, Bryan thought of how closely he had come to standing in Donovan’s shoes. Twice he had proposed marriage, and twice his plans had fallen through. Now he couldn’t imagine himself waiting at the end of an aisle for either of the women he had considered marrying before, not even as fond as he was of Chloe.
He supposed he should consider himself lucky to have avoided making such a monumental mistake.
The minister entered the room, tapping his watch. “It’s time to line up, gentlemen. We’ll walk into the sanctuary together as soon as the organist gives us the signal.”
Bryan was amused that Donovan stepped forward so quickly. “I’m ready,” he said.
The minister smiled. “I see that you are.”
Bryan and Jason fell into step behind their friend. A short time later, they stood together in front of the church. Groom, best man, and groomsman, standing straight and stiff in their tuxedoes as they waited for the ceremony to begin.
Bryan didn’t know many of the guests, only a few business associates of his and Donovan’s. Chloe’s family and friends and members of her church made up the rest of the cozy assemblage. Her mother was already sniffling into a lace-edged handkerchief. She happened to catch his eyes; he winked at her, eliciting a watery smile.
The little flower girl, the five-year-old daughter of one of Chloe’s cousins, came down the aisle dropping rose petals from a beribboned basket. Her angelic face was creased in an adorable frown of concentration. There was no ring bearer; the rings were stashed securely in Bryan’s pocket. At least, he hoped they were…
A quick, discreet exploration reassured him that the rings were exactly where they were supposed to be. He gave a small sigh of relief and turned his attention back to the wedding procession.
Another cousin of Chloe’s, Angie Parrish, served as bridesmaid, her curly red hair clashing cheerfully with her lavender dress. Bryan had met her at the rehearsal last night. A resident of Birmingham, Alabama, she had a slow drawl and a quick sense of humor. He followed Angie’s progress down the aisle, and watched as she took her assigned place at the front of the church, opposite Jason.
When he glanced back down the aisle, he had the sensation of being kicked solidly in the chest.
Grace was coming toward him, her steps measured and timed to the music, her long, lavender dress fluttering prettily around her. She wore her hair up, baring her slender neck and shoulders, and she carried a small bouquet of white roses in front of her.
She looked so beautiful it made him ache.
He had the feeling she was deliberately not looking at him as she came up the aisle; she seemed to be focusing rather intently on the altar straight ahead of her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He was struck by the utter rightness of this moment—waiting for her at the front of a church.
What, exactly, did that mean?
Still without looking at him, Grace took her place. The organ music swelled and the audience rose to their feet as Chloe entered on the arm of her father. Bryan glanced that way, noted that Chloe did, indeed, look beautiful—and then his eyes turned back to Grace.
Maybe she felt his attention on her. Or maybe it was only happenstance that she finally looked his way. Their eyes met, and held for so long that others must have noticed. But this was no act. It wasn’t romantic posturing for the sake of anyone who might be watching them. They looked at each other because they couldn’t look away—at least, he couldn’t.
The ceremony proceeded, and Bryan and Grace managed to perform their responsibilities as best man and maid of honor. Bryan got a lump in his throat when the minister pronounced Donovan and Chloe husband and wife. He swallowed, then broke into a big grin when Donovan kissed his bride. Grace, he noted, had a sheen of tears in her eyes, but he knew her too well to think she would let them escape.
He still remembered the day less than a year earlier when he had confided in Donovan that he wanted to marry and start a family. Donovan had listened to Bryan’s carefully thought-out plan for finding the ideal bride and then had said it sounded to him like a disaster waiting to happen. He hadn’t understood why Bryan was in such a hurry to get married or to have kids. As far as Donovan was concerned, he and Bryan were both better off being free of marital responsibilities, able to concentrate on business, to travel at will, and to spend their time doing exactly what they wanted without worrying about checking in with anyone else.
Who would have believed then that only a few months later it would be Donovan taking marriage vows while Bryan, still single, looked on?
Donovan and Chloe turned to walk back down the aisle together. Bryan stepped up behind them, offering his arm to Grace, while Jason and Angie fell into step behind them. He doubted that anyone else noticed Grace’s momentary hesitation before she rested her hand lightly on his arm. She was avoiding his eyes again. He leaned over to murmur in her ear, “You look stunning.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Think we could bribe the minister to perform another ceremony? I’m game if you are.”
Her steps faltered a moment. Through a frozen smile, she hissed at him, “That isn’t funny. Behave yourself.”
He wondered what she would say if he told her that he wasn’t entirely sure he’d been teasing.
Grace never expected that Bryan would be a life-line she would cling to during the wedding reception. She had planned to avoid him as much as possible while still carrying on the pretense that they were a happy couple. But as the evening wore on, she found herself using him more and more as a buffer between her and everyone else.
Bryan was so good at this socializing thing. He knew exactly what to say in response to even the most trivial small talk. He was particularly adept at diverting questions he didn’t want to answer without offending the asker. Grace envied his tact and forbearance; she could have used a little of it herself.
She had developed a strategy of her own for coping with too-personal remarks. Every time someone asked about her plans for the future, she smiled, took a sip of champagne and let Bryan field the question. She did that a lot during the course of the reception. Might as well make use of his talents for this one last big event, she rationalized.
“The band is very good,” Bryan commented to Chloe and Donovan after the cake had been cut and the first dance was behind them.
Chloe nodded in satisfaction. “They are, aren’t they? The lead singer is an old friend from Searcy. The band’s getting quite popular locally. I was lucky to get them tonight.”
Bryan listened for another minute, his foot tapping in time to the beat, and then he asked, “Do they have aspirations of going national?”
Donovan gave Grace a wry smile. “Apparently he’s considering getting into the music production business now.”
“I was just wondering,” Bryan answered mildly, his attention still focused on the talented musicians.
Chloe turned to put a hand on her sister’s arm. “Grace—you will sing for me tonight, won’t you? You promised you would, you know.”
Grace took another quick gulp of champagne. “Um…”
Her twin smiled, not without sympathy. “Don’t try to weasel out of it now. I know you and the band have practiced and I’m holding you to your promise. For me.”
For Chloe. “Of course,” Grace replied. “I’ll sing. For you.”
Having overheard her, Bryan turned to look
at her in surprise. “You’re going to sing?”
“Grace has a beautiful voice,” Chloe informed him proudly. “I sing well enough, but she got the real talent in the family. It’s just rare that anyone can talk her into using it.”
Self-conscious now, Grace shrugged. “Chloe has always overstated my talent.”
“She promised to sing my two favorite songs,” Chloe said, leaning happily against Donovan’s arm. “I begged, of course. Shamelessly.”
“And, as usual, Grace consented as a favor to you,” Bryan murmured.
Both Chloe and Grace looked at him in question at his tone. Donovan frowned at his friend, apparently also hearing something that bothered him.
“Bryan, you make it sound as though everything Grace does is for me,” Chloe said a bit hesitantly. “I certainly don’t—”
“Bryan is well aware that I do exactly what I want to do,” Grace cut in, giving him a stern look that dared him to say anything to upset her sister this evening.
“And tonight you want to sing for your sister’s wedding?” he asked, his tone hard to read.
She lifted her chin. “Exactly.”
With a wry expression, he motioned toward the stage.
Draining her champagne, she set the empty flute on a table and moved toward the band, her long skirt swishing around her ankles. Seeing her approaching, the lead singer, after finishing the number he’d been singing, motioned for her to join them.
“As a special gift for the newlyweds, the bride’s sister would like to sing two of the bride’s favorite songs,” he announced into the microphone. The statement was greeted by murmurs of pleasure and anticipation from the guests, who immediately gathered around the stage, led by the twins’ proud parents.
Grace wasn’t usually nervous when she sang. She’d been singing in public since her Bible School debut when she was four. She’d sung for big crowds and small groups, for close friends and total strangers—but she had never performed in front of Bryan before. That made it different.
She looked at Chloe as she began. Her twin appeared so delighted that it encouraged Grace to put everything she had into the performance. Standing on the stage in the dress her sister had selected for her, she sang the songs her sister loved. “Someone to Watch Over Me”—which was particularly appropriate since Donovan had been serving as Chloe’s bodyguard when they’d fallen in love—and “Can You Feel the Love Tonight.”