She needed to up her game. Giving him a serious and thoughtful look, she leaned in to whisper, "Hmm. Why don't we blow off the wedding photographs and get right to the slutty wedding sex?"
That wiped the grin off his face. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He did it a second time, and she gave in to a laugh.
Shaking his head, his grin was back, wider than before. "Pay-back's a bitch, ain't it?"
She laughed at his movie quote. They'd played this game—Name That Movie—since she was sixteen. One of them worked a movie quote into the conversation. The other had to catch it then name the movie, actor, and character or pay some silly forfeit. But they rarely had to pay up. They were both too good at it. "Independence Day, Randy Quaid as Russell."
He was chuckling as his arm went around her shoulder and gave her a friend-zone squeeze. "Slutty wedding sex, huh? You got me. For a second, I really thought you were serious."
You have no idea.
. . . . .
Ben looked around the ballroom of the Four Winds Hotel but kept a close eye on the wedding coordinator. He wasn’t going to miss his cue since he was already on her shit list for his ring bobble, not to mention flying in late last night and missing the rehearsal and dinner. Everything had gone smoothly with his long-distance best man gig—including the bachelor party two weeks ago in Vegas—until a script crisis popped up on Thursday night. More like a diva crisis.
He glanced over at Ali, who was watching the bride dance with her dad, and smiled remembering her toast. He’d written his on the plane and got the aw’s he was aiming for and a couple of bonus sniffles. But then he pushed words around for a living. If he couldn’t pull off sappy sentimentality, he needed to change careers. But it was Ali that stole the show with her funny references to Bunsen burners, combustion, and delayed chemical reactions. He stole another glance. His chemical reaction certainly wasn’t delayed.
His smile grew as he remembered getting in the limo after the wedding pictures. She’d insisted he get in first so he wouldn’t be looking at her butt as she climbed in. He did as she asked, then offered her his hand. She was halfway into the car when she realized her mistake: the neckline of her dress almost bared it all from that angle. He hadn’t said a thing. Just smirked and raised an eyebrow. She blushed. They were moving quickly to something different, and he’d started it with his “good enough to eat” remark. He needed to stop it now, but couldn’t seem to hold back.
Chase had snagged some woman from Bree’s law firm to sit with him. That left he and Ali as the only two people in the wedding party without dates or significant others, so they’d been seated together. For forty-five minutes, he’d listened to stories of student labs and near misses, thrown in his own about divas—divos too—and basked in the warmth of having her by his side. Twice, he’d put his arm along the back of her chair, and once he “accidentally” brushed her thigh with his. When she quickly moved away, he pretended not to notice. So did she.
The wedding coordinator raised her hand slightly, his cue to hit the dance floor. He cut in on the bride’s father who shifted to Helen, Josh’s mom. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Josh leading Ali out onto the floor for this next round of dance-with-the-bride. Only one more round before everyone was invited onto the dance floor. The round he was waiting for. He shook his head and took up his best man’s duties.
“It’s a beautiful wedding, Bree. Befitting a beautiful bride.”
“Thank you. Beautifully said, and you gave a beautiful toast.” She pulled back a little to look at him before adding, “Seriously, thank you for being here. I know it was a lot of trouble for you. He may not say it, but it means a lot to Josh.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it. We all go back a long way.”
She chuckled. “Yes, we do. Playing different roles for a long time, a very long time—two best friends, an annoying little sister and her equally annoying best friend.” Watching him as she added. “Any change in your role in the near future?”
For a moment, he thought she was talking about Ali, but there was no reason she should be. He answered jokingly. “You mean are my Hollywood bachelor days numbered?”
Bree glanced over at Josh, dancing with Ali, before she answered, “Something like that.”
“Nah. Nothing on the horizon.”
Bree studied him for a moment before shaking her head. They didn’t talk anymore; and in a couple of minutes, the wedding coordinator signaled another swap. He danced with Bree over to Josh and Ali and swapped partners.
Ben was pulling Ali closer when Josh took his hand off Bree’s back and slapped his shoulder.
“Let’s see some daylight, bro. That’s my baby sister you’ve got there.”
Ali rolled her eyes. Josh’s tone was teasing, and Ben wanted to believe it was nothing more than that, but he wasn’t sure. Didn’t Josh recognize that Ali was an adult? A competent woman, capable of making her own choices? Ali must have been thinking the same thing.
“Do you think he’ll be saying that to my dates when I’m sixty?”
“You plan to still be dating when you’re sixty? And, yes, probably. He wants to keep you safe.”
She snorted. “From you?”
“Especially me.”
Ali looked at him with a question that he wasn’t going to answer. He pulled her closer before brushing off the question. “Joking. Don’t worry about it.”
Holding her in his arms, moving to the music, exactly the moment he’d been anticipating since the wedding coordinator had explained the “complete wedding dance” Bree had planned. For a few minutes, he could pretend that she wasn’t Josh’s “baby sister” and there were no obstacles in his way. Feeling her tense, he looked down to see what was wrong. She was looking at Tim and Pippa who had moved closer to the dance floor. He didn’t want to hear the answer, but he asked anyway, “Still hard to see him?”
“No. I think I was over Tim in about twelve minutes. It’s hard to see Pippa.”
“I don’t get it. You know her?”
She shook her head and kept looking at the other couple. “I’m just tired of being the dumpy, odd-girl-out.”
“So what is it about Pippa?”
“She’s a jewelry designer, has pieces—really good pieces—in galleries. She’s tall and probably a size two; she’s—”
He stopped dancing and moved his hands to her waist. She’d said something like this earlier, and he’d let it pass. Not this one. “I get the alone thing, by the way, but you are definitely not dumpy.”
Ali snorted. “You don’t have to be nice. We’re friends. Honesty’s required.”
He could feel his frown, but Ali either didn’t notice or was ignoring it. “So here’s honest. I let your first remark slide, but I’m not going to let you put yourself down like that. So that’s two.” He held up two fingers. “Get to three and you’re going over my knee.”
Her eyes blinked rapidly at least five times before she let out a sigh and started to breathe again. “You got me. I thought for a minute you were serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious, Peanut. Try me.”
“You think you’re going to tie me up and spank me?”
“I won’t need to tie you up.” He held her eyes. “For that.”
What the hell am I doing? This is Ali.
But he could see her breathing speed up in the rise and fall of that glorious neckline, her eyes dark, and her breaths shallow. Seeing how turned on she was by the idea, he felt his own reaction. Not so vanilla after all?
“You are beautiful and sexy with the body of a pin-up girl. Every man’s fantasy.” He cocked his head and smiled. “To paraphrase, you have a head for science and a bod for sin.”
“Working Girl, Melanie Griffith playing Tess McGill.” Name That Movie had distracted her; and before she could get back to their conversation, he noticed Tim’s smirk as he danced closer to them. Ben pulled Ali back into his arms and began dancing again, sliding his hand down so low he was almost cupping her
ass. She tried to push back, but he held her in place.
“What are you doing?” Her shocked whisper sounded almost like panic.
He nodded slightly toward Tim and Pippa. “Letting old Tim see the hot, sexy mess he walked away from. You are now officially my date for the rest of the weekend.”
“We can’t do that.” Definitely panic.
“Why can’t we? I don’t have a date. You don’t have a date. Now we do. Let Tim eat his heart out.”
“But it’s Valentine’s Day.”
He chuckled. “So?”
“And what if I’m serious about slutty wedding sex? How am I supposed to find a hook-up if every guy here thinks you’re my date?”
No way in hell. “Not a chance.”
“When did you get to be so bossy?”
Oh, baby, definitely not going there. “I’m telling you no wedding sex on my watch, slutty or otherwise. Unless, of course, you’re planning to have it with me. That can be arranged. As I’ve said, always ready to be of service.” She might have stopped breathing again, but as Tim and Pippa passed alongside them, he pulled her even closer. So close she couldn’t possibly miss exactly how ready he was to be of service.
Chapter 3
What the hell was happening here? Was that what she thought it was?
Unless Ben had a rolled-up script stuck down the front of his tuxedo pants, it was. And his hand only had to move a few inches lower to lift her up and grind his…against her…her nipples were voting “hell, yeah.” Did he just offer to include sex on their pretend date? And not two minutes ago did he threaten to turn her over his knee? She felt a hot rush from her cheeks to, well…there.
And what is that all about?
Speaking of knees, hers were turning to Jell-O. She didn’t have a lot of experience, but this must be how Alice felt when she was tumbling down the rabbit hole.
His hand flexed on her hip, and apparently connected with a spot that had a straight connection to her nips which tightened even more than they already had. If she weren’t smashed against his chest—his hard solid chest—he’d see her headlights on high beam. His hand moved to her hip bone and moved her slightly back. He started to say something, but his eyes went straight to her breasts. When he looked up to her face, he cleared his throat twice before trying to speak.
“So what’s next?”
She stuttered before realizing he was talking about the reception. “Cake.”
He looked around. “I don’t see a cake.”
“Oh, believe me, there’s cake. Just wait.”
As if her words were a signal, the announcer’s voice came over the speakers as the last notes of the song faded away. “Ladies and gentleman, if you’ll open a path to the center of the dance floor.” A spotlight focused on the kitchen service double doors as two servers held them open, and the spotlight followed the pastry chef walking alongside a cart carrying the five-tiered cake that towered a foot taller than its honor guard—a white fondant confection, each layer ringed with calla lilies and baby’s breath.
Ben chuckled and shook his head. “You were right. There is cake.”
Josh led Bree to the cake table, cut a slice and fed it to her. She had a crumb on the corner of her mouth which he leaned over and kissed away. As he looked into his bride’s eyes and whispered something that made her blush, the crowd sighed and aw’d, and Ben’s arm slid around Ali’s waist and pulled her against him.
Once Bree fed Josh a bite, the chef’s assistants moved the cart to the edge of the dance floor and began plating cake slices for the waitstaff to deliver to the tables. Another platoon of servers magically appeared at the tables with coffee service. On cue, the orchestra resumed playing. Ben shook his head again. “This is quite a production.”
“Down to the last detail. Exactly the way Bree wanted it.”
“Bridezilla?”
She smiled. “Only once or twice.”
“And what did Josh want?”
“For Bree to be happy.”
“I can see that.”
“Bree wanted the whole wedding pageant thing. Josh would have gone with a down-and-dirty party. So they took the royal wedding approach.”
At his questioning expression, Ali explained. “Formal wedding, then the first party: formal seated dinner, toasts, dances, a major cake. Wine, champagne, no beer. No smashing cake in the bride’s face. And absolutely no dancing the Macarena. They’ll visit with their parents’ friends then toss the garter and bouquet and leave. An hour later their friends will show up at a bar around the corner for the second party—Josh’s kind of party.”
“And that’s where—” He stopped.
“What were you going to say?”
“Nothing. I was about to give away a surprise.”
“A surprise? Tell me!”
He tapped the tip of her nose with his knuckle. “Nope. Because it’s a surprise. If Josh didn’t tell you, I’m not giving it away.” Her fake pout didn’t change his mind, but he kissed her lightly on the temple. “Not telling. You’ll have to wait and see. Or hear.” He took her hand, leading her back to their seats. As they sat down a server asked if they wanted the lemon amaretto cake or the triple chocolate. At the same time, they both answered “Yes” and laughed.
Ben’s arm moved to the back of her chair as he spoke to the server. “How about one of each. We’ll share.”
Ali’s heart clutched. This felt so much like a real date. A romantic date. A Valentine’s date. Time to remind herself that he wrote pretend romance for a living. But she postponed the reminder when he cut a bite of the lemon cake and held it up to her lips, his hazel eyes darkened when she opened her mouth and took the confection on her tongue. Their eyes never leaving each other as his thumb brushed a crumb off of her bottom lip and seconds spun out.
“Good cake.” Jeff, the distant cousin and groomsman, broke the moment. Ali shook off the spell Ben was casting and divided the two pieces of cake, putting a half slice of each on the plates. She managed three bites before the reminder she should have listened to earlier sunk in. It’s just pretend.
“I think I’m going to say hello to my aunt and uncle and…” She pushed back her chair as she waved toward the wall of French doors on the opposite side of the room. “I’ll catch you later.”
“Ali.”
She ignored him and didn’t stop until she was across the room and out on the terrace. The terrace lit by twinkling white lights. More damn romance. Houston in February could be either freezing of tropical, and tonight was a warm night, but she shivered, felt a chill. She asked herself again, what was happening? She knew the answer. This is what she’d wanted for as long as she could remember. For just one second when his thumb brushed across her lip, he’d looked at her the way Josh looked at Bree. An expression that practically shouted, “Mine.” She didn’t want pretend romance; she wanted the real thing.
Timothy had never looked at her that way, and she’d never cared. Neither of them had been in love. She’d been okay with the package she thought he offered—the wedding, the house, the kids. And if she could never have the man she wanted, she’d thought she could settle for good enough. If Tim had proposed, would she have gone through with it? Probably not because…she admitted the truth to herself. She’d never loved anyone the way she loved Ben.
Her eyes were stinging and her breath shaky as she walked to the end of the terrace and sat on the stone wall, looking out at the grounds dimly visible in the moonlight.
“I thought you might need this.”
Not hearing him walk up, she jumped at the sound of his voice, saw her shawl in his hand.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He wrapped the silk around her shoulders and sat down beside her. “Are you okay? What’s got you so deep in thought?”
“I’m fine.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. She shivered again as the silly words had her imagining his big, warm hand on her panties. “Just needed a little fresh air.” And then she started babbling nervously to fill in the quiet
, covering her lie, distracting herself from her fantasies.
“It’s humid tonight. There’s a cold front northwest of here. It should get here before ten. Unless it stalls again. That will push out the Gulf air. But for now, humid. And my hair is going to frizz. Humidity makes hair frizz because the chemical structure of hair makes it susceptible to extra hydrogen in the air—you know, like H2O? And the extra hydrogen atoms bond with the keratin proteins and with enough of these bonds—they’re really weak—but with enough of them the hair starts to fold back on itself—” Ben was chewing on the inside of his cheek. “No, really.”
“I don’t doubt that every word you just said is true.” A small smile was sneaking out, but he was going to hurt himself if he chewed any harder.
“Some hygrometers—that’s an instrument for measuring moisture in the air—use human hair. The more moisture, the shorter the hair, and…” He’d given up on biting it back and a grin lit his face. “What?”
“You.” He tugged at a curl on her temple that had escaped her up-do. “Aw, Ali-Cat.” He shook his head slightly as his hand slid around to the nape of her neck giving her a gentle squeeze. “I have missed you.” He chuckled. “And your science tidbits. I always learn something when you’re nervous.”
“Oh.” So much for distracting herself.
They were both quiet until Ben asked, “What would any of us have said fifteen years ago if someone told us that Josh and Bree would end up together?”
Fifteen years ago. Josh and Ben were still in high school; she and Bree in junior high. If anyone had been taking bets then on possible happy ever afters, smart money would have been on Ali and Ben. She blinked away the tears that threatened and faked a laugh. “None of us would have believed it. Wouldn’t even have believed it two years ago. Things change.”
“Yeah. A lot of things don’t turn out the way we expect.”
“That sounds personal.”
“Personal. Universal. I never expected to be the go-to guy for romantic comedies. Guess I thought I’d be writing scripts that ‘change the world.’” He made air quotes. “Or at least move the conversation.”
Oughta Be a Movie: a Sugar-&-Spice romantic comedy Page 2