She swallowed, dragging her eyes up until she met his.
“Would you use your strength?” she whispered, already breathless.
“Without a doubt,” he promised, slowly leaning forward to wrap one massive arm high across the backs of her thighs. He lifted her up against him, groaning when her legs hooked around his waist. Holding her with one arm under her rear, he braced against the wall with the other, making the muscles across his chest, shoulders, and arms bulge and flex. He was beautiful.
“Would you use your kiss?” she whispered, aching for the contact. The connection.
“Relentlessly,” he rumbled close to her ear.
His lips brushed the shell in a kiss so teasing and light that goose bumps cascaded down her arms. He gathered her hair back and cupped her cheek. The warm wash of his breath spilled against her neck, his mouth so close that her skin tingled with the need for contact. Then another barely there brush of his lips at the tender skin beneath her jaw.
She bit her lip, waiting for more. But then Brody was tsking quietly, shaking his head as he ran his thumb along her bottom lip.
“Gentle.”
This was the man she’d fallen in love with.
Then slowly, he leaned closer, replacing his thumb with another soft, grazing kiss.
“More.”
“Absolutely,” he answered against her mouth.
“Please, Brody.”
His hand slid around the nape of her neck, and he pulled back to look in her eyes. “Anything, baby.”
And when their lips met again, there was nothing tentative or testing about it. They came together in a slow, sinking glide so sure and good and right that she felt it through every part of her being. It deepened by degrees until they were lost in each other, clutching and clinging. Holding tight.
And when they broke apart, she stroked his cheek with her thumb and tangled her fingers in the russet waves of his hair.
“I was going to fight for you too,” she whispered breathlessly.
“You were?” he asked, carrying her to the bed. He laid her back and slid his arm beneath her hips to move her up the mattress before climbing over her to settle between her legs.
She nodded, pressing her palms to his bare chest. “I was ready to do anything.”
“Anything? That’s quite a lot,” he said, giving her back her words. “Would you give me your heart?”
She smiled up at him. “I already have.”
“What about forever?” he asked, his voice deep with yearning.
Her heart skipped, and she searched his eyes. “Is that what you want?”
“I want you, Gwen. Any way that I can have you. But if you let me choose? I want you forever.”
She could barely breathe. “You’re talking about…”
“The cake, the flowers, the best men and bridesmaids. I’m talking about making you laugh and smile for all the days of our lives. I’m talking about Baby O’Donnels and our own love story where we grow old together and have a happily ever after better than you ever dreamed possible.”
Her throat was tight, her heart full. “You want all that?”
He touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “I know it’s fast. And I’ll wait for as long as it takes until you’re ready. But yeah, I want all that.”
“What if I’m ready now?” she asked, sliding her knee up the outside of his leg.
His mouth curved, and then he pushed himself up above her, a sexy glint in his eyes. “Then maybe you’d be so kind as to reach into my right pocket for me.”
She raised a brow. “You have a condom in your pocket?”
Turning his head, he laughed into his arm. “What? No. Baby, just…can you reach in there for a second?”
Heat pushed into her cheeks as she slipped her fingers into his pocket, feeling around until—
“What is this?” she gasped and, after wiggling some more, pulled up the stunning platinum band with three brilliant diamonds.
Lowering himself over her again, he took the ring and held it between them. “It’s the ring that belonged to my great-grandmother who, according to her daughter, was the only foolish romantic in the whole family. I asked my mom for it a month ago, before I made the biggest mistake of my life. And if you want to know why Molly showed up like she did this morning, it’s because she was there yesterday when my mom came into Belfast to give this to me. I was going to put it in the safe. I wanted to put it out of my mind, but every time I tried, I started thinking about what it would be like to have you wear it, and it just kept going back in my pocket.”
She blinked up at him, and the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes were about joy and love.
“So, gorgeous, I guess what I’m talking about is how much I love you. And I’m asking, Gwendolyn Sidney Danes, if you’ll give me forever.”
Threading her fingers into the fall of russet waves surrounding his face, she nodded and pulled him in to her kiss. “It’s a date.”
Epilogue
“Jesus, Brody. Sarah doesn’t even hang on this tight.” Max snickered from where he was hunched over the throttle. The engine revved, and the gleaming black bike shot forward as they cut through the city traffic. “And would it be too much to ask for you to pry your junk out of my ass and sit back a fucking inch?”
“Laugh it up, man.” If Brody sat back any farther, he’d be bouncing down the damn street.
Finally, they pulled up to the church where Sarah, Emily, and Molly stood in matching heather-gray dresses amid a crowd of friends and relatives.
Not exactly what Brody had in mind when he and Gwen talked about making an entrance for the big event. Crawling off the back of Max’s bike, he slapped the guy on the shoulder. “Thanks for the bailout.”
Max winked at Sarah, who’d been watching with a kind of screwed-up frown on her face. “I know. He ruined the sexy wedding-day motorcycle magic for you.”
Brody groaned, his eyes coming up to meet Emily’s. Her brow arched.
“I warned you, Brody. ‘Just meet him at the church,’ I said. But did you listen? No. What were you thinking letting Jase anywhere near the transportation to your wedding? You know what happens when he’s a best man.”
Brody pushed his hands back through his mane of hair. “I thought being just one of three best men would dilute things down some. Hell, Sean’s got enough luck in his pinky finger to counteract that black cloud that seems to follow your husband to weddings. Where are they anyway?”
Molly stepped up, all smiles as she pointed past his shoulder. “That’s Janice’s car now.”
Thirty seconds later, Sean and Jase were crawling out of the backseat of her four-door sedan, their tuxes looking remarkably good for essentially having spent the last fifteen minutes wadded up and crammed into a space too small to contain them. Jase bumped his head getting out, then leaned back in to hand his assistant’s son the toy robot caught in his jacket.
“Any word on the limo driver?” Jase asked, stepping up to his wife and wrapping an arm around her waist.
Emily pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Broken nose, but he’ll be fine. And what did we learn today?”
Jase rubbed a hand down his face. “No pre-wedding lawnmower dance moves. I really didn’t know he was behind me.” Then turning to Brody, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t want to mess up your day.”
Brody pulled the guy in for a hug. And then Emily too.
“Only thing I care about is the girl inside. The rest… Hell, it’s just a party.” Pulling back, he rubbed a hand over his chest. “How’s Gwen doing?”
Molly beamed. “She’s having the best time. Her mom and that Mrs. Normandy are both a little tipsy from mimosas this morning, and the three of them can’t stop laughing.”
Sarah waved to her husband, who’d already parked and was crossing the street at a jo
g. “She wanted a few minutes alone with her parents, but honestly, she’s one of the most relaxed brides I’ve ever seen.”
That was what Brody wanted to hear.
The church doors opened, and one of Gwen’s younger cousins popped her head out and called to the girls. One after the next, they hugged Brody and gave their husbands a quick kiss before starting up the stone steps to the church, while the guys cut around to the side where they would wait.
Sean had six-month-old Gigi, Gwendolyn May Wyse, tucked in the crook of his arm where she was happily gumming his knuckle. Max was unsuccessfully trying to get one impossibly tiny ruffled sock on her perpetually kicking foot. And Jase and Brody were just staring at the little miracle their friends had created.
“You guys thinking soon, or are you going to wait a while before getting yourself one of these?” Jase asked.
Brody and Gwen had talked about it. He loved the idea of her as a mother and making their own little family, but selfishly, he wanted her to himself for a while. “Couple years, probably.” Turning to Jase, he raised a brow. “You getting any closer to convincing Emily?”
Jase stared at Gigi a few seconds more before moving in to take the sock from her uncle and put it on in one swift motion. He smiled like he’d just won the lottery, pulled out his phone, and immediately texted his wife. Then beaming at his friends, he grinned even wider.
“You might say that.”
Next thing, they were all huddled around Jase’s phone looking at the first ultrasound from Baby Foster. Brody stepped back and wiped his eyes, happiness overflowing inside him as he stood with the best men he knew, the guys who had become his family.
The music changed, and his heart started to pound. This was it.
After sharing in so many other happily ever afters…his was walking down the aisle, gorgeous in her white fitted gown, the kind of love in her eyes that promised forever.
For more Mira Lyn Kelly check out
book one in The Wedding Date series
May the Best Man Win
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Read on for a peek at where it all began
Chapter 1
August
On the upside, the prelude had already begun, and chances were good that Mozart’s Sonata in E-flat Major pumping through all those organ pipes would cover any sounds of distress emanating from St. A’s sacristy.
Jase Foster crouched in front of Dean Skolnic, groom du jour, and cursed. This had to stop happening.
“You think she’s gonna notice?” Dean asked, wincing as Jase pulled one strip of duct tape after another off the garbage bag of ice currently secured to Dean’s shoulder.
“The arm?” Jase clarified, because while he wasn’t an every-Sunday kind of guy, they were in a church so he couldn’t flat-out lie. “No, man. I really don’t.”
Lena would take one look at her husband-to-be’s swollen black eye, and she wouldn’t see anything else.
Strike that.
She might notice the greenish-gray pallor of Dean’s normally ruddy complexion, because coupled with the way he was gulping air like a goldfish, it didn’t bode well for his stomach or anyone within splatter distance.
The door opened behind them, and Father John plowed in, five foot six inches of bristling irritation and grizzled holiness. Scowling at the scene in front of him, he snapped his fingers and pointed at the guilty-looking crew of lesser attendants—mostly Dean’s cousins who’d driven in that morning—plastered to the back wall. “Crack the fucking window.”
Jase steeled himself against the laugh clawing to get free. Because, yeah, Father John had a mouth on him. Something Jase had discovered when he, Max, Brody, and Sean were muscling Dean out of the limo, barely clearing the door before the driver peeled off. The priest had stopped dead in the mostly empty back parking lot, taken one look at Dean, and let loose with enough four-letter words that even the guys—seasoned professionals in the expletive arena—had been coughing into their fists, studying the thick canopy of trees above and the new asphalt beneath their feet, basically looking anywhere but at the pint-size priest with a bear’s temper.
“How we doing, Father?” Jase asked, pulling the bag of ice free and stepping out of blast radius. “Need any help?”
More grumbling as the priest elbowed one of the groomsmen out of his way and opened the window himself. “Seems you’ve done enough already.”
Probably. But Jase was chalking this morning up as a learning moment. No matter how bad the groom’s nerves, a quick game of hoops on the way to the church was not the answer, especially when evening out the teams required bringing the limo driver into the mix.
Cutting a look over at Max, Jase pushed to his feet. “Let’s get his jacket on.”
Max Brandt was working his cop stance with his legs apart, his arms crossed over his chest, and a don’t-fuck-with-me scowl firmly in place. He nodded down at Dean. “Get serious. He’s gonna blow. We don’t put it on him until he does.”
Hell. Jase glanced around the tight confines of the sacristy to the cabinets stocked with candles, chalices, napkins, and the rest of the holy hardware, and he mentally amended Fuck with the requisite apologies applied.
Jase wanted to think Dean could pull it together, but when it came to hurling, Max could call it from a hundred yards away. Even before the Chicago police force honed his powers of observation to a sharpened critical edge, the guy had had a hinky instinct about when to clear a path. That, and about women too. Both handy skill sets to have.
Grabbing a plastic trash bin from next to the hanging rack of choir robes, Jase shoved it into Dean’s good arm.
“You heard him, Dean. Make it happen, and we’ll get you out there.”
That was a promise, because unless one of his grooms had a definitive change of heart about marrying the woman waiting down the aisle, no-shows didn’t happen on Jase’s watch.
The door opened again, and Brody O’Donnel stepped inside. He wasn’t as tall as Jase or as menacing as Max, but the guy had presence. He was solidly built with a broad chest and a wild head of russet waves that fell well past his ears, which he’d only half bothered to tame for the morning’s nuptials.
Whistling out a long breath, he eyeballed Dean, who was doing his best to manage the task assigned to him. Then nodding around the room, Brody grinned. “Father. Guys.”
Father John looked up and broke into a beaming smile.
“Brody,” he boomed like the guy was his prodigal son returned, even though the two had only met the night before. Then shaking his head with a warm laugh, he declined when Brody pulled a flask from the inner pocket of his single-button tux jacket and, shameless grin going straight up, held it out in offering.
“Aw, come on, Father John. It’s the good stuff,” he ribbed before passing it to one of the braver cousins.
Brody could always be counted on for two things: his uncanny ability to make friends with just about anyone and his propensity for always having a flask of “the good stuff” on hand for emergencies. Which made sense, considering he owned Belfast, one of Lakeview’s most popular bars. Booze was, in fact, his thing.
“Brod, so what’re we looking at?” Jase asked, knowing they had to be running out of time.
“The girls are about ready to go. Sean’s smooth-talking the Skolnics, and I’ve got the safety pins, but…uh…”
Jase knew that drawn-out qualifier. Whatever Brody had to say, Jase was sure he wasn’t going to like it. “What?”
“Maid of honor had the pins and wouldn’t give ’em up if I didn’t tell her what was going on.”
Emily Klein. Fucking fantastic. Because after managing to avoid her throughout the entire engagement, now, with everything else that morning, Jase was going to have to deal with her getting up in his grill?
“She’s coming?”
“Nah, I talked her down pretty good, so—”
And that was as far as Brody got before the sacristy door swung open again and that old familiar tension knuckled down Jase’s spine. He took her in with one sweeping glance and then—just to piss her off—went back for a second, slower pass. She should have looked like Natasha Fatale from those old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons. She had the height, all right, but instead of the severe black hair, wickedly arched brows, bombshell body, and calculating scowl, Emily was every kind of soft. Soft strawberry-blond hair spiraling in loose curls over her shoulders. Big, soft-brown eyes. And a soft, shy smile that hid her poison-dart tongue. Even her body, tall and athletically lean, had a softness to its modest curves—curves that had distracted the hell out of Jase in high school but that he’d become immune to in the passing years.
Since he’d finally seen through her soft snow job to the cold, hard ice queen beneath.
“Jackass,” she greeted, with a soft smile just for him.
“Emily. What can I do for you?”
“Brody mentioned Dean had—”
Dean coughed into his trash can, and Emily’s superior scowl shifted to the man of the hour.
She looked from Dean back to Jase, her mouth gaping open in soundless horror. “Is that dislocated?”
The shoulder looked bad, Jase knew. And with anyone but Emily, he would have been all about the explanations, apologies, and assurances. Dean was going to be waiting at the end of that aisle, ready for Lena, even if Jase had to hold him up there himself. But since it was Emily… “No.”
He waited.
Emily’s toe started to tap, a nervous habit she’d had forever. One he took unhealthy pleasure in exploiting.
But Brody, a perpetual fixer fortunate enough not to have any history with Femily Fatale, stepped in with a reassuring shrug and his signature lopsided smile. “A little roughed up is all. Don’t worry about a thing. He’s fine.”
Which was when Dean retched up the contents of his stomach and a round of applause sounded from the attendants stationed around the room.
Decoy Date Page 25