Hello, sailor.
His hair was raven-black, brushed back from his widow’s peak in a careless, windswept style reminiscent of an old-school, bad-boy movie star. Unlike everyone else, he’d eschewed a suit and tie and instead wore an open-necked black shirt and leather jacket with a pair of tuxedo pants and scuffed biker boots. She wanted to smirk at how try-hard the ensemble was—he might as well have the words wannabe rock star tattooed across his forehead—but was forced to admit that he more than carried off the look.
He was, in a word, sexy. And boy, did he know it. The knowledge was reflected in the way he held himself, the way he studied the people around him and in the small, knowing curve to his lips. He thought he was too cool for school and the best thing since sliced bread all rolled into one, with a helping of God’s gift to women thrown in for good measure.
So, this was Jason’s mysterious, never-around brother, Seth Anderson.
Interesting.
A waiter glided by bearing a tray of champagne flutes and she plucked one for herself before he could disappear. Sipping at the bubbles, she went to greet her aunt and uncle, watching Seth out of the corner of her eye every step of the way.
He was easily the hottest guy in the room. She guessed he was about her age, maybe slightly older. She tried to remember what else Jodie had told her about him, but apart from the fact that he was lead singer in a band called Skunk Punk, Vivian came up blank. Since she’d never heard of his band—and who could forget that name?—she figured that his music career wasn’t much to write home about, despite all the time he apparently spent touring.
But, hey, what did she know? Maybe he was about to break out and be heralded as the next Michael Hutchence.
He glanced up, scanning the room until he arrived at her. For a breathless moment their gazes locked, and a ripple of something forbidden and hot and reckless licked through her. His eyes were espresso-brown, and the glint in them was downright wicked.
He cocked an eyebrow, his mouth quirking into a speculative, assessing smile as his gaze traveled down her body and up again. Not to be outdone, she raised an eyebrow at him and gave him the same treatment, deliberately lingering on his crotch, just so he knew who he was dealing with.
He raised his glass in her direction, an unspoken acknowledgement that she’d trumped him. Or so she chose to think.
She turned her shoulder on him as she joined her aunt and uncle, exchanging kisses and greetings, doing her damnedest to appear as though she had better things to do than engage in eye-foreplay with him. Even though she was burningly aware of him.
Definitely interesting. Maybe this wedding wasn’t going to be all pomp and circumstance, after all.
* * *
SETH TOOK A pull from his beer, not taking his eyes off the redhead who had just walked into the room. She was pretending that she wasn’t aware of him, but he knew she was. He’d known it the moment their eyes locked. She was trouble, with a capital T, and he’d always had a thing for trouble.
He let his gaze slide down her body again. She had a great ass, something that was more than evident thanks to the fits-like-a-glove dress, and unless he missed his guess, she was rocking a C cup upstairs.
Very nice.
He bet she went off in bed—not because she was a redhead, but because of the suggestive curve to her lips. No fake orgasms and holding back for Red. She’d go all the way and then some.
Someone nudged him and he turned to find his brother scowling at him.
“No.” Jason sliced a hand through the air.
“What?” Seth put on his best innocent face.
“That’s Jodie’s little sister, Vivian. She is absolutely out of bounds.”
Vivian. The name suited her. A bit different and naughty.
“She doesn’t look out of bounds.” Seth gave her another once-over. Her high heels were serious business, the stilettos made from shiny silver metal.
Hot.
Jason moved to block his line of vision. “Think of her as a nun.”
“Never gonna happen.”
“Then think of my hand around your throat, squeezing slowly until your ever-loving eyes pop out of your head.”
Seth laughed. “Wow, you are really serious about this, aren’t you?”
“These people are about to become my family. Apologizing for my humpy-dog brother is not high on my list of things to do.”
Seth sighed heavily and turned his back on the siren across the room. “Fine. She’s off-limits.”
Jason stared as though he was trying to work out if Seth was sincere. Seth rolled his eyes and drank the last of his beer. When had his brother turned into such a freakin’ stiff?
“I so need another one of these.” He dumped the empty on the table and, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, headed for the waiter.
There were four years between him and Jason, but right now it felt like four decades. In the space of a couple of years, his brother had gone from being a fun guy who loved to party and hang out to a stay-at-home, cardigan-wearing family-man-in-training. He’d even bought a set of golf clubs last month, for Pete’s sake.
Seth blamed Jodie. Not that she was inherently evil, but she had clearly done something to his brother’s brain, changed its fundamental chemistry so that Jason was now a different man. And he was about to become a husband.
Seth shuddered. Was there a worse word in the English language? Herpes, perhaps. Maybe fungus. But husband had to be up there.
He snagged a beer and surveyed the room. His parents were schmoozing with Jodie’s parents, all of them looking as pleased as punch that they would spend the next thirty-odd years doing exactly the same thing at extended family gatherings. His grandmother was seated, her cane dangling from the table by its crook. But his gaze kept sliding to Vivian.
To her ass, if he was being strictly accurate.
Her skirt was tight with no V.P.L. He bet she wasn’t wearing underwear. She might be wearing a thong, of course, but he preferred his version.
He glanced to where his brother was talking with Jodie and some of her cousins. Jason was preoccupied, his head tilted toward Jodie as he listened to something she was saying.
So attentive. So domesticated.
Since he was otherwise occupied...
Seth headed across the room, only stopping when he was a few feet away from Vivian in her sexy blue dress. She made him wait a full ten seconds before pretending she’d just noticed him.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you,” she said, her eyes sending him a very different message.
A shame he wasn’t allowed to play with her properly. She’d give him a good run for his money.
“Seth,” he said, offering her his hand. “And you’re Vivian. We’re about to become family, they tell me.”
She considered his hand for a beat before sliding hers into it. Her skin was soft and warm, her nails surprisingly short and businesslike.
“Jodie warned me you aren’t brother material.”
She was more of a strawberry-blonde than a true redhead, he decided. Her eyes were an intriguing blue-green, her skin creamy smooth.
He bet she tasted good.
“Did she? I wonder why?”
“You think maybe it has something to do with the whole Marlon Brando On the Waterfront thing you’ve got going on?”
“Damn. And here I was, aiming for James Dean in Giant.”
“You’ll need a cowboy hat to pull that one off.”
“A cowboy hat, huh? I’ll add it to my shopping list. So, Vivian, what do you do when you’re not being the sexiest woman in the room?”
She huffed out a little laugh. “Wow, you don’t mess around, do you?”
“Just calling it like I see it.”
She took a sip from her champagne flute, considering him over the rim. “So, how do you see this working? We slip out between the main and dessert and I do you in the alley? Or were you thinking the bathroom?”
He choked on his beer, going from semihard t
o hard in no seconds flat. Then she arched her eyebrows and he knew she was yanking his chain.
“Funny.”
“Just calling it like I see it.” She lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug.
The movement caused the slit in her bodice to flare momentarily, offering him a heart-stopping view of cleavage. He was about to respond when he felt the heavy pressure of someone staring at him. He glanced around and met his brother’s dark glare.
Okay. Time to wind up this little chin-wag before his brother burst an artery.
“Vivian, it was nice meeting you. I look forward to seeing you at the altar tomorrow,” he said, offering her a mocking half bow.
“Tomorrow’s a whole other day. And you know what they say about weddings.” She winked then, the sexiest move he’d ever witnessed in the flesh.
Since he knew he couldn’t top that, he offered one last smile and turned away. Jason was angling toward him, and Seth headed in the opposite direction and sat beside his grandmother. As he’d guessed, Jason stopped short, unwilling to give a lecture about keeping his pants zipped in front of an octogenarian.
Wimp.
“Seth, sweetheart. Good to see you. Tell me about all the trouble you’ve been causing,” his grandmother said, patting his hand.
“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but I’ve been busy working. No trouble here.”
She laughed heartily, tickled, and he set himself to entertaining her. And all the while he puzzled over Vivian’s parting words. What, exactly, did people say about weddings? And did it mean he was in with a chance tomorrow or not?
* * *
VIVIAN STAYED UP half the night hand-stitching the sequins, seed pearls and feathers onto the belt. She was bleary-eyed when she finished, but the belt was gorgeous and she was certain that Jodie would love it.
It wasn’t a dress, but it was something.
She set her alarm before burrowing into the pillow and willing herself to sleep on the narrow bed. For some reason, her conversation with Seth slipped into her mind as she drifted off. Man, he was cocky. So confident he was almost offensive.
Almost. If he actually delivered on the promises he made with that body and those eyes... Well, it would be a whole lot of fun.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face, slept through her alarm and then had to shower in a panic before joining her sister downstairs to have her hair and makeup done with the other bridesmaids.
“Vivian,” her mother said reproachfully as Vivian slipped into the lone empty seat at the kitchen table.
Vivian widened her eyes. It wasn’t as though the makeup artist or hairdresser had eight arms and was able to work on more than one person at a time. She would have been sitting around twiddling her thumbs if she’d been on time.
The next hour flew by in a waft of hairspray and a dusting of powder. Then it was time to get dressed. She and the other bridesmaids shimmied into their pale green sheaths before helping Jodie dress. Then, holding her breath, Vivian handed over the belt.
“Oh, Viv.” Jodie eyes popped as she reached for it reverently. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Good. I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it.”
Vivian was pretty sure she’d remember the look on her sister’s face for the rest of her life.
There were photographs to take next, then the drive to the church. In the vestibule Vivian and the other bridesmaids helped arrange the small train on Jodie’s dress, then Vivian tweaked the veil one last time. The doors to the church proper opened, the organ chimed the opening chords to “Here Comes the Bride,” and Vivian started down the aisle, her suddenly sweaty hands clutched around her bouquet.
She might not want this for herself, but it hit her that this was a big deal. Jodie was getting married. She was about to become someone else. Mrs. Anderson. She was about to lay the foundation stone for starting her own family.
Vivian blinked rapidly, worried she would ruin her makeup. Then her gaze found the tall figure of Seth standing at the head of the aisle, and she saw the smirk on his lips, as though he fully expected her to turn into a slobbering sentimental wreck any second. She sucked back her tears and lifted her chin. She loved her sister, but she had her dignity to consider.
The ceremony passed in a blur, the only stand-out moments in her memory being when Jason and Jodie exchanged rings, and the time when she got caught staring at Seth’s profile and had to let her gaze drift as though she’d been examining the stained glass window over his shoulder and not wondering what kind of a kisser he was. She wasn’t entirely sure he bought it, but she’d tried.
There were more photos—endless photos—after the ceremony, then they piled into the cars and drove to the Fairfield Boathouse for the reception. The food came quickly, which was just as well as Vivian was starving, having somehow forgotten to eat breakfast and lunch in all the rush. The champagne flowed freely, and before she knew it they were at the speeches part of the evening. Her father spoke well and made everyone cry, then Jason’s mother took the floor and made them laugh. Seth told droll stories and earned his brother some raised-eyebrow looks from her sister. Then it was Vivian’s turn to talk about the happy couple.
She’d never been crazy about public speaking, so she chugged down her glass of champagne before taking the mike. She’d written out her speech, and she pretty much stuck to the script as she shared how happy she was for Jason and Jodie, and how she thought they made a great couple and couldn’t wait for little Johnny and Jan and Jill to come along. Everyone seemed to think that was funny—phew—so she finished on a high note.
With the official stuff out of the way, the music started. Vivian knocked back more champagne while watching her relatives make idiots of themselves on the dance floor, then went in search of the ladies’.
Afterward, she couldn’t quite face returning to the rowdy din. Not just yet. She slipped out the front entrance onto the covered balcony that circled the Victorian building. The river was dark as night, but fairy lights circled the gum trees nearest the boathouse and the world seemed mysterious and full of promise.
The scent of smoke drifted to her and she glanced to her left. Someone stood in the shadows of the balcony, the tip of his cigarette glowing.
She smiled, because she knew exactly who it was. Full of champagne and mischief, she went to talk to Seth.
* * *
WHATEVER ELSE A person thought about Vivian—and Seth had had a few very detailed, very specific thoughts regarding her in the twenty-four hours since they’d met—it was impossible to ignore the fact that she knew how to move. There was a swing to her hips, a strut to her walk that issued a challenge.
Look at me. Take me on.
Watching her walk toward him, half her face in shadow, he could only admire the way she worked it.
“Ms. Walker. Taking a break from the festivities?”
“Avoiding the ‘Chicken Dance.’”
He winced. “Really?”
“Yep. There will be some ‘Greased Lightning’ and the ‘Bus Stop’ before the night’s over, too.”
He swore under his breath and took another drag on his cigarette.
“You got another one of those?”
“Didn’t realize you smoked.”
“Only when I’m drunk.”
He gave her an assessing look. She wasn’t swaying on her feet or glassy-eyed, but her cheeks were a little flushed. She waved a hand dismissively.
“Relax. I’m not there yet,” she said.
“Hey, whatever gets you through the night.”
God knows, she’d get no judgment from him. He’d been guzzling champagne since they’d arrived at the boathouse, trying to anesthetize himself against the knowledge that his brother’s life was officially over.
He offered her a cigarette and lit it, breathing in her perfume. Spice and musk. Nice.
“So I hear you’re a fashion designer?” he said as she blew a stream of smoke into the darkness.
“Been asking a
bout me, James?”
It took him a moment to remember their James Dean/Marlon Brando conversation from last night.
“My mother mentioned it. She seemed to think we might have a lot in common.”
Her eyebrows shot skyward and she looked as horrified by the notion that his mother had matchmaking on her mind as he had been.
“Yeah, I know. I laughed so hard I think I broke my funny bone,” he said.
“What is it with people always trying to pair everyone off in neat little couples? News flash—not everyone in the world wants to file two by two onto Noah’s Ark and live like the Brady Bunch for the rest of their lives. There’s a hell of a lot more to life than paying taxes and making babies.”
“Man, don’t get me started,” he said, thinking of the grief his father gave him every few months about giving up the band to do something “realistic” with his life. No matter how many times he explained that music was his life, it never seemed to get through.
“No offense, but I nearly choked on my own tongue when Jodie told me Jason had asked her to marry him. I mean, she’s only twenty-six. That is young to be getting married these days.”
“You think I didn’t freak when Jason told me he’d popped the question? Your sister is nice and everything, but come on.”
She held her hands in the air. “Hey, preaching to the converted here.”
He reached for the bottle of champagne he’d smuggled out with him and took a swig before passing it to her. He watched her pale throat as she tilted her head back and drank deeply.
“I’ve got to ask this, because it’s been bugging me. What is it, exactly, that people say about weddings?” he asked.
She handed him the bottle. “I don’t know. Why?”
He shook his head, confused. “You’re the one who said it.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah, last night. You said tomorrow is another day and you know what people say about weddings.”
She laughed, the sound loud and delighted. “That’s freakin’ hilarious.”
He watched her, unable to stop himself from smiling even though he had no idea what was so funny. “You want to let me in on the secret?”
Her Kind of Trouble (Harlequin Superromance) Page 2