Chapter Three

Jenna got some strange looks from the doorman and the security guard in her building when she hurried through the lobby in her wedding gown with a man who was not Elliot right behind her. But she made it to the penthouse elevator and punched in the code without anyone stopping them to ask questions. That was good. They needed to get in and out of the apartment before Elliot realized where she’d gone. She had texted Niki from the car with a plea to stall Elliot but offered no further explanation. Jenna wasn’t sure how long he’d wait around before realizing that she would not be participating in the ceremony. Or the wedding. Or a life together.

Once in the elevator, Jenna leaned against the rail, sucking in oxygen and cursing the man—it had to be a man—who’d invented the Python.

She was doing this, leaving Elliot and the rest behind. What came next? The future was now a big black void. But Zach’s idea was a good one. Getting away by herself and lying low for a few days would give her time to think about what she was going to do, what she would say to people. She didn’t know how she would ever explain to Elliot or his family or their friends. But she couldn’t think about that now. She’d think about that tomorrow.

Zach leaned against the opposite wall, tapping a text message into his phone. The phone dinged with a response, and he tucked it into the inside pocket of his tux jacket. Out of the car now and enclosed in the elevator, she could see that he was tall. Much taller than Elliot. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and a warm skin tone that made it clear there was some Latin blood in his lineage. Nice, full lips. He kind of had that dark, broody thing going on. In another life—a life in which he wasn’t helping her escape from wedding another man—he would have been just Jenna’s type. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and he hadn’t brought a plus one to the wedding, but she’d bet it wasn’t for lack of opportunity.

“You okay?” A look of concern creased his brow. And no wonder. Jenna was a hot mess. He had to be second-guessing his decision to help her escape.

She hoped she wasn’t ruining his plans, but then she remembered his plans had been to attend her wedding and reception, so that meant his calendar had opened up for the evening. Still, now that the initial rush of panic had passed, she felt weird about imposing on a stranger.

“I’m fine.” She gave him a tentative smile. “Thanks for getting me out of there…and talking me off the ledge. I think I’ve got it from here. I can call a cab.”

Zach’s frown deepened. He looked at her as if he was trying to solve some sort of complex riddle. It was intense. He’d be intimidating in the boardroom. But the bedroom…yeah. Total alpha fantasyland.

The door opened into the penthouse apartment, and Jenna stepped out, glad to have some space between her and Zach and her inappropriately dirty thoughts. Although how any woman could look at Zach and not think of wet panties and wrinkled sheets was really beyond her. Too bad she didn’t have any single friends that were even a decade within his age to fix him up with.

“I’ll drive you to the airport.” His tone brooked no arguments. And she really didn’t have time to argue.

“All right. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s not.”

Jenna left Zach in the living room and rushed to the bedroom to grab her things. Her suitcase was by the door, along with her purse. She checked to make sure her wallet, phone, and paperwork for the resort were still in her purse. Anything else? Oh, right. Maybe a change of wardrobe. Something she could actually breathe in, maybe.

Jenna went into the huge walk-in closet and pulled a pair of jeans out of the dresser drawer then grabbed a sleeveless top, bra, and sandals. She reached around to undo the dress before she remembered that the stylist had actually sewn her into her custom gown this morning. The plan had been for Niki to extract her with the help of a seam-ripper after the reception, when she’d change into a going-away dress. But now…

She tugged, hoping the stitches were not that tight, but no, they were steel fibers or something, and she had a limited range of motion, since the Python still had her in its grip. She tried pulling it off over her head, but no matter how much she shimmied and twisted, it would not go up over her shoulders or down her hips. She could try ripping it, but the thought of the waste wouldn’t allow her to trash the thing. And time was ticking.

“Need help with your bags or anything?” Zach called from the hallway.

Jenna sighed from inside the dress’s folds. “Yes, actually I do need some help.”

She heard the bedroom door open. “In here,” she said, shoving the skirt back down so it covered her ass. She tugged it into place just as Zach entered the closet.

“I need you to rip this off me.”

“Pardon?” He looked like she’d just asked him to play strip poker.

“I’m sewn into the dress,” she explained. “I need you to pull the back seam apart.” She turned her back so he could get at it.

“You’re sewn into the dress?”

“It’s a designer thing. Apparently.” This would be her first—and last—experience wearing a designer gown. If she ever did actually meet a man and make it through the whole wedding ceremony, it would be on a beach somewhere. No pinchy shoes, no fussy hair and makeup, no designer gown, and no Python. Just a flowy comfortable dress, her bare feet, and the ocean waves. And a groom, of course. One focused on her and not making things appear perfect for a magazine spread.

“If you say so.” He sounded uncertain, and really, she couldn’t blame him. Even though he probably had women taking off their clothes in front of him all the time, they probably didn’t often ask him to rip them out of a wedding gown. At least not on the first date.

Jenna jumped when his hand brushed her bare shoulder. His heat was like a volcano at her back, and the clean, soapy smell of him made her want to inhale deeply.

“Sorry,” he murmured, though she wasn’t sure what he had to be sorry about. “Just…rip it?”

“At the seam. It should pull apart.”

He tugged at the fabric tentatively.

It didn’t give way like she thought it would. “Harder,” she said, trying to speed things up. His nearness was disconcerting, and a little space would be a good thing.

“I’m going to rip it.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Just get me out of this thing. Please.”

Zach popped the top stitch, and it all separated at once, from her nape to her ass.

She clutched the front of the dress to her breasts.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, and it took Jenna a minute to figure out what he meant.

“The Python,” Jenna said, turning around. “Haute Couture isn’t made for women with curves in mind. Elliot and the designer thought this would make the dress flow better.”

“Wow,” he muttered, staring. Then he shook his head. “Please tell me you’re not sewn into that thing, too.”

“There’s a side fastening.”

He nodded once but stayed where he was, just looking at her with that dark, intense gaze.

Jenna suddenly started to feel very self-conscious. She was alone with a hot stranger, more than half naked, and he was looking at her like she wasn’t just his friend’s almost-wife. It should have been creepy. But it wasn’t, at all. It was the opposite of creepy. Like the beginning of a super-hot sex with a stranger kind of fantasy. “Thanks,” she said. “I think I can handle it from here.”

That seemed to break the spell Zach was under—probably trauma from the Python.

“Elliot is completely clueless,” he grumbled then turned and walked out of the closet. She heard the bedroom door close behind him, and only then did she relax a little.

Had to be pent-up adrenaline, right? Didn’t people in high-stress situations sometimes experience a weird spike in libido? Her situation could definitely be categorized as high stress.

Jenna stepped out of the gown and hung it up, not at all sorry to see the last of it. Then she divested herself of the Python and kicked it under the lower clothing rack. She had definitely seen the last of that. Taking her first deep breath in hours was glorious, but they had to hurry, so she pulled on her jeans, bra, and shirt then slid her aching feet into a comfortable pair of sandals to wear on the flight. Jenna wished she had time to take off all the makeup and brush all the hairspray out of her hair, but it was more important to get to the airport before Elliot showed up.

Zach had already grabbed the luggage from the bedroom and was standing in the middle of the living room, taking in the surroundings. Jenna knew what he saw—“a clean, modern pallet” was what Elliot’s designer called it. In other words, metal, glass, and acres of white, interrupted only by occasional bursts of gray. Not exactly Jenna’s taste, but then Elliot hasn’t asked her input when he’d had it redone a few months ago.

Zach went to the sofa table and picked up a small silver frame, the one piece of Jenna that had made the decor cut. He studied it as intensely as he did everything else.

“My parents,” Jenna said, startling him a little as she approached.

Zach turned, still holding the frame, and studied her face for a moment. “You look a lot like your mother. Same eyes and lips.”

“And hair,” she said, touching the rock-hard updo. “I got her curly hair.”

His gaze went to her head, as if to gauge, and that feeling of self-consciousness washed over her and made the moment feel more intimate than it should have.

“Industrial strength hairspray,” she said. “I’ll have to wash it out once I get to my room.”

“Good luck with that,” he said dubiously and gave her a small grin. “Ready?”

Jenna nodded, noting Zach still held the photo. Without a word, he handed it to her, and she tucked it into her purse. “I’m ready.”