When Max was done, he stepped back, brushed a piece of lint from Luc’s shoulder and looked over at Jake. “How ’bout you, groom?” he inquired. “You need any help with yours?” Then he immediately answered himself. “Nah, you look your usual GQ self.”
Luc studied Jake, as well. His youngest brother was impeccable from his sun-streaked brown hair to his sleek black wing tips. Yet, although Jake looked every inch the groom, Luc still found it incredible that he was actually getting married today. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” Jake said and looked at Austin. “We’re beyond ready for this, aren’t we, buddy?”
“Yeah,” the boy agreed. “To spare my impressionable mind, Jenny wouldn’t let Dad live with us until they were married. She snuck over to his house, like, every night for you-know-what, but God forbid he should move in with us.” He grinned when his uncles and dad laughed their appreciation. “So, hell, yeah. We’re way ready for this.”
* * *
IN THE INN’S bridal suite down the hall from the room the men were using, Tasha and Harper carefully lifted Jenny’s wedding dress over her head and helped her arrange the two layers that comprised it. After Jenny wrestled the formfitting strapless satin under-dress into position, Harper zipped it up, then did up the row of tiny pearl buttons on the sleeveless illusion sheath that began at the base of Jenny’s neck and skimmed over the under-dress in a slim silhouette.
Tasha carefully fitted the two vintage-look crystal-embellished hair clips into Jenny’s updo and placed her friend’s silver high heels in front of her. Raising the skirt of her gown, Jenny stepped into them, and both Tasha and Harper stepped back so all three could get the full bride effect in the closet’s mirrored slider.
Tasha was the first to speak. “Oh,” she said in a little voice. She cleared her throat. “Oh, my God, don’t let me cry and screw up my mascara. But, Jenny—” Reaching out to brush her fingertips down Jenny’s bare arm, she met her best friend’s gaze in the mirror. “You look so, so beautiful!” She fanned her fingers at her welling eyes. “Damn.” Tearing her gaze from Jenny’s reflection, she glanced at Harper. “Did you play bride when you were a kid?”
When Harper shook her head, Tasha shook hers along with her. “Neither did we. That wasn’t even a consideration when we were growing up—we were more about how we were going to get our careers off the ground and our butts out of poverty.” Then she stepped around to gaze at Jenny face-to-face. “But you, my dear, dear sister of the heart, are the most gorgeous bride that ever was.”
Jenny’s smile was radiant, and she leaned a bit to the side to see around Tasha, gazing at her reflection and taking in her wedding gown with its delicately appliquéd lace curving in a beautiful India-inspired design down the front. “I feel beautiful. And, God, Tash, I’m so damn happy.”
Then her dark eyes and rosy mouth went comically round. “Oh! I almost forgot. I have something for you two.” And turning away, she went over to the dresser, where she picked up two gold boxes with elaborate wired-ribbon bows.
Tasha watched as Jenny brought them back and handed one to her and the other to Harper.
“I thought these would look pretty in your hair,” Jen said. “But if they don’t work with your ’dos, don’t sweat it. We’ll just have to go somewhere that calls for jazzin’ up our hair another time.”
Tasha exchanged a glance with Harper. Then they both grinned, tore into the ribbons and pulled the box lids off. “Oh, Jenny,” Tasha breathed, staring at the gift within. “This is so pretty.” Reaching into the box, she lifted from the cotton batting a dainty double-band silver headband that shimmered with round-cut crystals amid myriad tiny crystal-set leaves and stems.
Harper’s exclamation mirrored her own, and the two of them took their gifts over to the mirror to carefully arrange the bands in their hair. Tasha admired the way the ornament looked among her curls. “Sweetie, thank you! I feel like a fairy princess.” Glancing over at Harper, she found her friend doing the same thing that she was: turning side to side to catch the flashes of crystals among—in Harper’s case—her inky curls. “And, oh, my gawd, you look like one!”
They both rushed Jenny to give her hugs of thanks. All three of them were howling with laughter as they mugged for the camera Jake had set up on a tripod and put on timer mode when there was a rap on the door. “Jenny?”
“Hey, Austin!” Jenny crossed to the suite door and pulled it open. “C’mon in! Oh, my, don’t you look handsome!”
The teen seemed rooted in place as he stared back at her. “Wow,” he said. “Wow. You look just like...” Voice trailing off, he shook his head and simply gaped at her in awe. “Like a movie star or something.”
Tasha watched Jenny’s expression melt. “Awww,” she said, reaching out to cup her hand around the jaw of this boy she’d long thought of as her brother. “Thank you. That’s exactly how I feel today. Do you want to come in and hang out with us? We just put the finishing touches on all this beauty.”
He grinned at all of them. “And you did a dynamite job,” he replied, exhibiting an early proclivity toward the Bradshaw way with the ladies. “But no. I’m here to get the flower things for our lapels.”
“The boutonnieres are in the fridge down in the restaurant kitchen. But get in here for a minute first. We need a photo with you.”
“Not another picture,” Austin groaned. “Dad’s been taking those nonstop.”
“All the more reason to be in one with us. Team Estrogen clearly needs to catch up.”
Austin gave in and soon fell in with the women’s silliness, letting them all kiss him in one shot and cockily posing with his thumbs tucked behind his satin lapels in another. When they finally cut him loose, Jenny gave him an affectionate hug. “Will you bring our bouquets up here, too?”
“Sure.”
“Better take the guys theirs first, though, because the guests will be showing up soon, and Max and Luc need to be downstairs to greet them.”
“I’m on it,” Austin assured her. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he stopped, reenacted his cocky pose and beamed from ear to ear. “Man, wait until Bailey and Nolan get a load of me in my tux!”
He was still grinning when he left the suite and raced off down the hall.
* * *
TIME SEEMED TO GO into hyperdrive after Austin left, and in what felt like mere moments, the women heard the opening strains of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D.” The next thing Tasha knew, they were down in the hallway that led into the lobby. She and Harper arranged Jenny’s short train, then took their places in front of her for the processional.
Through the opening, she could see Jake, Austin, Max and Luc in front of the fireplace, the handful of friends Jenny had invited ranged in chairs facing them. She waited for the right beat in the music, then touched Harper’s arm to cue her and watched as newly elected sheriff Max’s head came up. He stared at Harper with single-minded focus as she crossed the threshold into the room and commenced the slow step-touch-step march down the room. The guests turned in their seats to watch.
Then it was Tasha’s turn, and she realized in that moment that all the Bradshaw brothers shared the same trait. Each had eyes only for his woman. She saw Jake look past her to Jenny still standing in the hallway opening, and when she turned her attention to Luc, it was to find him looking hotter than sin in his tux—and staring at her with possessive eyes.
The ceremony was short, simple and heartfelt. But it seemed to Tasha as though the groom had barely kissed the bride before the entire town was crowding into the inn for the reception. For the next hour she circulated through the crowd, greeting and visiting with whomever stopped her. Which felt like everyone.
Luc materialized in front of her and handed her a glass of wine. “Want to get out of the crush for a minute?”
“God, yes.” She let him take her free hand and lead her to the staircase that Jenny had closed off with a velvet rope to keep the reception contained to the first floor. Moving one of the stanchi
ons it was fastened to, he ushered her through, then set the pole back in place. With a warm hand on the small of her back, he escorted her up the stairs.
She dropped onto a settee in the upper corridor. “I don’t know why I’m suddenly so tired—it’s not like I’ve been stacking wood all day.”
“Have you eaten anything?”
“Sure. I had a slice for— Oh. Breakfast.” She gave him a self-deprecating smile. “Well, that explains why this wine is going to my head. And especially why I was beginning to feel so claustrophobic down there. I usually get energy from being around people, not feel crowded.”
“Here, this might help.” Luc reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a square of aluminum foil. He unfolded it and extended it to her.
“Chocolates!” She selected one and popped it in her mouth. “Oh, God,” she moaned around the confection. “And not just any chocolates, either, but salted caramels. No wonder I love you so much.”
“Right back atcha, beautiful. Which reminds me—I haven’t had the chance to tell you how gorgeous you look tonight.” He reached out a golden-skinned finger to skim its tip along the curving strapless top of her deep plum-colored gown. “This is hot. I spent most of the wedding wondering what you had on under it.”
“God, you’re such a perv.” She laughed in delight. “I really appreciate that about you, but I wonder what the Kitsap County Drug Task Force would think if they knew. It’d sure be a shame to get fired from the job you’ve only been on for eight weeks.”
“Yeah, I really like this job,” he agreed. “But I’m not working tonight, and right now I’m more interested in knowing what you’re wearing under that thing. So, tell me. Is it a strapless bra? Or—oh, man—a thong?”
“Yes and no. I prefer going commando to a thong.” Not that she’d gone so, but she’d let him discover the transparent little pair of panties later.
“Sweet Jesus. This I’ve got to see.”
“I’ll model them for you when we get home.” She rose up off the settee and pressed a soft kiss on his full lips, then pulled back to gaze into his eyes. “I love you so much, Luc,” she whispered. “I never knew it was possible to feel this much love for one person, and I have to be honest—sometimes it scares the crap out of me.”
“Aw, no,” he said, bending his head to bestow tender kisses on her lips, her eyes, her temples. He touched a gentle fingertip to the silver-and-crystal headband in her hair, but his dark-eyed gaze never left hers. “Don’t you ever fear loving me, cariño. Because however much you feel for me, I feel ten times that for you. Count on it.”
“God, Luc. You make me so happy.”
“Right back atcha. And, bebe, our future is nothing but being happy together, because I intend to love you to my last breath.” He kissed her fast and hard, then pulled back to look into her eyes. “You can take that to the bank.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from SOME LIKE IT HOT by Susan Andersen.
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CHAPTER ONE
OH, MY GOD. Is he coming here?
Before Harper Summerville glanced out her front window to see Max Bradshaw striding up the sun-dappled trail between the evergreens on the inn grounds, she’d been enjoying her day off. It was fun puttering around the little playhouse-size one-room-plus-loft cottage that was part of her employee compensation as the summer activities coordinator for The Brothers Inn. She loved, loved, loved the glimpses she could catch from up here of the fjord that was Hood Canal and the soaring Olympic mountains beyond it. The spectacular scenery was what brought people to the little resort town of Razor Bay, Washington.
Seeing a huge, unsmiling man bearing down on her, however, made that enjoyment falter. And her heartbeat inexplicably pick up its pace.
He looked different than he had during their previous two brief meetings. Plus, the first time she’d seen him, as well as on the handful of occasions when she’d glimpsed him around town, he’d been wearing his deputy sheriff’s uniform. But there was just no mistaking a guy that big, that hard-looking, that intense and contained for anyone else.
She blinked as he suddenly left the path and disappeared from view, then shook her head at herself. Oh, good show, Harper. Conceited much? Because, despite her cottage being the only one up here before the trail wound into the woods, it apparently hadn’t been Bradshaw’s destination. Breathing a sigh of relief—right?—she plugged in her earbuds and turned back to the couple of boxes she’d put off unpacking.
Within moments, she’d revived her earlier enjoyment. She loved seeing new places, loved meeting new people and diving into a new job that was never quite like any other. Since she’d structured her life to do exactly that, she was generally a happy woman.
Harper sang along with Maroon 5 as they played through her earbuds. As she efficiently unpacked the boxes of odds and ends her mother had insisted on sending her, she swiveled her hips and bopped in time to the music.
Thoughts of her mother’s hopes and expectations for her, however, elicited a sigh in the midst of crooning along with Adam Levine. Gina Summerville-Hardin refused to believe that Harper could live very contentedly without a permanent base or a host of belongings, since making a home had been her way of coping with the constant moving from place to place that had been part and parcel of her husband’s work. Neither Gina nor Harper’s brother, Kai, had loved the adventure of seeing new countries and meeting new people the way Harper and her dad had.
Still, Harper had to admit that she adored the throw pillows and candles her mom had sent. They added a homey touch to her minuscule cabin. Admitting as much certainly didn’t take away from how she chose to live and honor her dad’s memory.
All the same, when the song ran its course, she thumbed through her playlist and pulled up her father’s onetime theme song.
“‘Papa was a rolling stone,’” she sang along with The Temptations as she focused on finding a place to put the other items her mother had sent, given that storage space was at a premium. “‘Wherever he—’”
Something warm brushed her elbow. Her heart climbing her throat like a monkey riding a rocket, she jerked her chin downward. She stared at the rawboned, big-knuckled masculine hand touching her.
And screamed the house down.
“Shit!” Max Bradshaw’s voice exclaimed as she ripped the earbuds from her ears and whirled to face him.
He was in the midst of taking a long-legged step away from her. His big hands were up, palms out, as if she had a howitzer aimed at his heart.
“Ms. Summerville—Harper—I’m sorry,” he said in a low, rough voice. “I knocked several times and I heard you singing, so I knew you were here. But I shouldn’t have let myself in.” Slowly lowering his hands, he stuffed them into his shorts pockets and his massive shoulders hunched up. “I sure didn’t mean to scare the sh—that is, stuffing out of you.”
Even through the embarrassment of knowing he’d seen her shaking her butt and singing off-key, it struck her that these were probably the most words she’d ever heard him string together at one time in her presence. Drawing in a deep breath and dropping the hands she’d clasped to her heart like an overwrought silent film heroine confronted by the mustache-twirling villain, she pulled herself together. “Yes, well, intention or not, Deputy Bradshaw—”
“Max,” he interjected.
“Max,” she agreed, wishing she’d simply said that in the first place. After all, not only had they been introduced on the day she’d interviewed for her job at the inn but they’d attended the same barbecue just a couple weeks ago. “As I was saying—”
Her already open front door banged against the livi
ng room wall, and they both whirled to stare at the man barreling through it. From the corner of her eye, Harper saw Max reach for his right hip, where his gun no doubt usually resided.
The stranger’s forward momentum carried him across the threshold and into the small room, the screen door slapping closed behind him. As he left the glare of sunlight flooding the porch, he coalesced into a tall, gangly man in his mid-thirties.
Then he was blocked from view as Max stepped in front of her. She leaned to peer around him.
“Are you okay, miss?” the man demanded, glancing about wildly. She assumed his eyes had adjusted to the dimmer interior lighting, for it was obvious from the way they suddenly widened that he’d gotten his first good look at Max. His prominent Adam’s apple rode the column of his throat as he swallowed audibly.
For good reason. Max was six-four if he was an inch and probably weighed in the vicinity of two-twenty.
Every ounce of it solid muscle.
But Harper had to give the resort guest credit. He was clearly outmatched, yet while he looked as though he’d give a bundle to go back out the way he’d come in, he instead moved closer and ordered firmly, “Step away from her, sir.”
“Oh, for God sake,” she heard Max mutter, and hysterical laughter bubbled up Harper’s throat. She swallowed it down as she watched Max do as directed.
Then she looked at the resort guest. “I’m okay,” she said soothingly. “It’s really not what you must think.” She ran him through her mental database. “You’re Mr. Wells, right? I believe your wife is in my sunset yoga class.”
“Sean Wells,” he agreed, shedding some of the tension that caused him to all but vibrate.
“This is Deputy Bradshaw,” she said. “I screamed because I had my earbuds in and he startled me.”
Sean relaxed a bit more, but he shot Max a skeptical look as he took in the bigger man’s khaki cargo shorts, black muscle shirt and the tribal tattoos that swirled down his right upper arm from the muscular ball of his shoulder to the bottom of his hard biceps. “You don’t look like a deputy.”
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