Subject Request for Nick Asher: Rumor is he likes to get drunk and pick up bridesmaids, even if he’s not invited to a wedding. Anyone have any information? —Member 339
Need to Know admin staff: Pending.
EARLY SATURDAY EVENING Jordan stood at the open bar and drank a silent toast to the bride, the newly minted Elizabeth Savory-West. Jordan could almost picture the personalized stationery. It would probably be in the same bright pink as the bridesmaids’ dresses.
Jordan had a harder time figuring out the bride, since Jordan had never actually met her. She stood now and watched Elizabeth swish around in her fluffy white dress, surrounded by tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of pink and white roses and her thirteen bridesmaids. Because that was a rational number. Jordan could barely come up with thirteen people she’d want at her wedding, never mind acting as bridesmaids.
She scanned the Highwater Observatory, the fancy room housing the reception. It was one of three ballrooms at the tony hotel on the edge of Georgetown. Jordan had to fight the urge to grab her phone and figure out how much the room rental cost. Something with skylights and “observatory” in its name couldn’t be cheap. Add in the paneled mahogany ceiling, glitzy chandeliers and rich golden fabrics and you had a very expensive few hours of dancing and cake.
She didn’t know one person in the room. That’s what happened when you crashed a wedding to scope out a groomsman. Word was Nick Asher enjoyed sleeping with bridesmaids—any bridesmaid—and sometimes skulked around weddings looking for sex partners. Sex, as in having it, then sneaking out before the hotel-room bill was paid.
He was a real classy guy, this Nick. Just went to show money couldn’t buy manners.
Right now she watched him move, circling a petite brunette and following her as she walked out the towering doors to the terrace. Jordan guessed it was time she got some fresh air, as well. She pivoted around one of the fancy columns at one end of the room and came eye-to-mouth with a guy.
At least it was a hot mouth, and the rest of the face...well, damn.
“How do you know Bitsy?” Forest stood there, dressed like James Bond, all sleek in a tux that fit him as if some dude stripped Forest naked and measured him for it.
Jordan felt all the blood leave her head. It had to be a reaction to the impressive outfit. No way was she responding to him. “What?”
“Bitsy.”
Clearly the rushing sound in her ears drowned out part of the conversation. “Is that a person or a thing?”
“She’s the bride.”
Jordan decided this would teach her not to do more investigation on the bride and groom before crashing a wedding. She’d gotten a tip about Nick being a groomsman and showed up without any planning. It was a hotel, after all. Not exactly a security-protected event.
But none of that solved the six-foot-something problem in front of her. Damn, she couldn’t see anything past Forest’s broad shoulders. That couldn’t be normal.
She waved her hand and gave a chuckle. “Oh, sure. Bitsy.”
He shifted as he folded his arms over his chest. “No one calls her that.”
Shifty bastard. “Why did you?”
“To see if you knew her or were even invited to this event.”
“What makes you think I’m not supposed to be here?” Other than that being the truth, of course.
“You’re not talking to anyone.”
Jordan snorted before she could stop it. “So?”
He put his palm against the column behind her head and leaned in. “You were hiding behind the post and ducked when the bride walked by. You’re not giving anyone eye contact and I haven’t seen you talk or eat or even sit down, probably because you don’t have an assigned seat.”
“Yeah, that’s not creepy or anything.”
“What?”
“Your stalking problem.”
The corner of his mouth lifted but just as quickly flatlined again. “You’re not exactly engaged in normal wedding-guest behavior.”
“Clearly you don’t go to many weddings.” Jordan had been to seven for her mother alone, so she considered herself a bit of an expert. And, really, hiding was the only way to get through them.
He held out his hand. “Okay, let’s see your seat-placement card.”
He sounded ridiculous saying that, but she bit back a laugh, mostly because of the ball of anxiety racing up her throat to choke her. “Were you invited?”
A young girl barreled by them and knocked into Jordan. The girl was off with a muttered apology. Jordan’s balance took a bit longer to settle out.
With quick reflexes, Forest reached for her arm and pulled her closer to his side even as the fingers stayed wrapped around her elbow. “Elizabeth’s father works in my accounting department.”
“Well, of course he does.” All of these rich, powerful folks knew each other. It was some weird exclusive club where admittance required stacks of cash.
Jordan decided right then she was the unluckiest person alive. First she buys a condo and gets laid off from the law firm the next week. Now, this. Him.
Her cell buzzed in her purse, reminding her of the one other problem she dealt with on a daily basis. Her mother and her active social life. The same mother who had just been dumped in the Bahamas by a guy named Lin after he found her searching through his wallet.
Mom thought he overreacted, because she was only checking his identification. But she did snag two twenties from the guy’s wallet “to teach him a lesson” or something like that. Now she was in the resort lobby, trying to find a new “friend” or she’d need airfare to get back home.
Jordan dreaded the call and the possibility of having to send more money, but when her mom called, Jordan answered. Not having a dad, her mom was all she had.
Keeping the stalling to a minimum, Jordan held up a finger and opened her small bag. She grabbed the phone and scanned the lines of text. Looked like Mom landed on her feet. Again.
Forest glanced at the cell. “Everything okay?”
“My mother.”
He frowned. “Is she in trouble?”
The explanation would take hours and Jordan would need many glasses of wine to get through it, so she went for a shortcut. “She’s on a date with a man named Felix.”
“Is that good?”
That should be a simple question, but almost nothing was simple when it came to Gloria Winchester. “For Felix?”
Forest’s frown deepened. “What?”
“We’ll have to see what Felix thinks a week from now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Not important.” Jordan dropped the phone inside and snapped the purse shut again. “You were telling me how you know everyone in town. Please continue.”
“Speaking of mothers.” He nodded at an older woman across the room standing next to the wedding cake. She wore a sleek gray dress and had her hair swept in an updo.
Jordan had no clue who she was, either. “Were we?”
“We can go say hello to the mother of the bride,” he said.
The music played and people danced. A few others roamed around the tables and gathered by the uncut cake. Jordan blocked it all in an attempt to sound as if she belonged here. “I’ve never met her parents.”
With a hand still on Jordan’s upper arm, Forrest swung around and pointed to the bride as she smoothed her hand over her bump of a stomach again and again. “To Elizabeth then.”
If Jordan’s suspicions were correct, the potentially pregnant Elizabeth. “She’s busy.”
His fingers clenched against her arm. Not tight and not threatening. To others he probably looked loving. To Jordan it sent a clear do-not-move signal.
He stood close enough for his breath to brush across her cheek. “I will wait here and run through every member of the wedding party until you admit you crashed this event.”
The closeness. His scent. It all combined to suck air out of her lungs. She had no idea what that was about. Sure, on the surface the guy looked good. Probably even had the normal amount of body hair. She could admit to him being objectively non-ugly, but she knew better than to think his looks provided any insight into the rest of him. Personal experience had taught her all about his type and that should kill any appeal.
Should.
“I was next door and came over to see the room. A friend is thinking of having a wedding here,” she said, reaching for another lie.
“Who?” His hand brushed up and down her arm this time.
The mix of the demanding tone and soft caress messed with her head, but she stayed on track. “How is that your business?”
“Ms. McAdam—”
What little air she managed to force into her body all seeped out again. She actually felt her shoulders slump. “How do you know my name?”
“Does that scare you?” He seemed far too happy about that possibility.
Shithead. “Of course not.”
“Dance with me.”
Oh, hell no. She was wheezing and stuttering and there were still a few inches of space between them. Getting closer? Not a good idea. Not when her usual common sense appeared to stumble in his presence.
“I’m fine here,” she said, feeling the exact opposite of fine.
“I insist.”
There was demanding and there was jerky. Only the smooth delivery and dark good looks kept this guy on the right side of the line. Just barely. “Does that bossy thing usually work for you?”
“Almost always.” This time his mouth hovered over her ear as he nodded to the woman headed right for them in the big white dress. “Look, there’s Elizabeth. Ready to say hello?”
Jordan turned, edging her back toward the bride and angling Forest toward the mass of swaying people. “Fine, one dance.”
A few steps and she went into his arms. A palm pressed low on her back and the fingers of his other hand entwined with hers. His firm yet gentle touch and the mint on his breath had the tension across her shoulders easing. His steps were sure, as if he danced around his office each night.
Knowing his upbringing, Jordan assumed he’d gone to cotillions and polo matches and a bunch of other rich-kid things. With or without lessons, the guy knew how to hold a woman.
Damn him.
Forest looked down at her. “Are you still working for Ryan Peterson?”
She fought off a nasty shiver at the appalling thought. “It was a temp position and is over.”
“You sound torn up about that.” Forest guided her around the floor and away from the more obvious flailing couples out there who stomped and turned and took up more than their fair share of dance-floor space.
“He’s a little...” Jordan searched for a word that didn’t start with ass. “I’ll say different.”
Forest treated her to a huge smile. “What about that the thing where he calls himself Ryan?”
“Right? What is that?” She tightened her hand on Forest’s shoulder. A sexy warmth radiated off him, inviting her to trace his muscles with her palm. She beat back that temptation with an invisible stick.
“He has the maturity of a ten-year-old,” Forest said.
“You’re being kind.”
Forest pulled her in closer. Only a whisper of air separated their bodies and his lips pressed close to her hair and couples passed by them. “Where do you go next?”
The steady beat and gentle sway mesmerized her. It took a second for the words to come together in her head.
She still didn’t get it.
She pulled back and searched his ridiculously handsome face for the answer. “What?”
“Your next temp job.” He led them to an open space on the dance floor and put his back to the crowd. “I’m assuming your office gives you a new assignment as the old one finishes.”
For a second she forgot why she was even at the wedding and what she was supposed to be doing. Hunting down information and providing it to others was her real job and, as predicted, being close to Forest messed up her thinking...a lot. “Yes, but I have the week off.”
“Are you looking for full-time employment?” His gaze dipped to her mouth and lingered there. “If so, I could pass your name on to my human resources department.”
A vision screamed through her head. Her straddling him on his big leather chair for that desk sex Elle referenced. And the sex would be great. Jordan would bet all the money in her savings account on that.
But the vision blinked out as quickly as it had appeared when she realized his offer ventured a bit too close to her mother’s M.O. of getting close to men in exchange for money and engagement rings. She’d known this guy for about ten minutes and he was offering her a job. He didn’t mention strings, but there were always strings. Her mom taught her that.
The whole scene made Jordan wonder if she did inherit the using-men gene after all. Still, he was a temptation....
She glanced around, trying to see if anyone noticed the sudden heat on her cheeks. Backing up came a second later. She needed to keep her chest from pressing against his and wondered when The Longest Song in History was going to be over so she could dash out of there. “You don’t even know me.”
“I figure anyone who could work for Ryan without dropkicking him out the window has some skills.”
She thought that should be a résumé line, as well. “That’s an interesting employee threshold you have there.”
“You could say I have a gift for reading people.”
This guy knew how to say just the right thing at the right time to throw her off. It was as if he reeled her in and then tried to shock her. Maybe she should thank him for the wake-up call, but she was more concerned over this supposed superpower he claimed to have. “Really? What do you think you know about me?”
He looked her up and down, as if sizing her up. “Intelligent enough not to blow your temp job and strong enough to refrain from telling Ryan to get his head out of his ass, though that had to be tempting.”
Relief crashed into her. Nothing to do with Need to Know or checking into her background. She could handle this. “All true.”
“I’m thinking you’re a little down on your employment luck.”
Well, now, she didn’t care for that at all. She glanced down at her royal blue sheath. “Is that a comment on the dress?”
“Definitely not. You look spectacular. Certainly impressive enough to turn heads and get offers, but not so out of the park with a flashy red dress or something similar that would stick in everyone’s minds if they played the ‘who was the lady in that dress’ game later.”
That was exactly the look she was going for, but still. “How romantic.”
“I think it’s all carefully crafted. You know how good you look and how to dress and picked a step away from all-out smokin’ on purpose, but I have no doubt it’s easy for you to get there fast.” The heat in his eyes mirrored his words.
She blocked out the good parts and went with her new insight into his personality. “I’m guessing you think everyone is always working an angle.”
His hand swept over her shoulder. “Aren’t they?”
Time for a surge of self-protective control.
She stepped back again, shutting down all possibility of touching his impressive body even as she memorized how he felt for when she was alone in her bed tonight with Mr. Fancy. “The song is over.”
“Well, Ms. McAdam, we have a few options.” He nodded toward the reception area outside the ballroom and the hotel beyond. “For one, you could join me for a drink.”
Or she could run like hell. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”
“Ms. McAdam—”
A thought flashed in her brain. “What’s my first name?”
His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
She put a finger behind her ear and leaned toward him. “Hmm?”
He actually treated her to a little bow. “Touché.”
For some reason the idea of this in-control dude not knowing her full name tickled her. So did the little-boy-caught-doing-something-naughty look on his face. “Meaning?”
“I was never given your first name.”
Score one for strong women everywhere. He might demand a confidentiality agreement, but he had to know the woman’s name first.
“Then, Forest, it would seem you really don’t know everything.”
The expression morphed back into confident businessman. “But I could find out. I thrive on a challenge.”
Okay, that sounded more like the half-bossy, all-demanding guy she expected. It must have killed him to admit he didn’t know something, but he sure never came off as weak.
Which meant it was time to run. “I’m going to take myself out of this game and leave.”
“Do you think that will stop me from finding out your name?”
Her legs refused to move. “You’re sounding creepy again.”
“You know you have the control. I appreciate women and know what the word no means.”
She long ago learned not to take men at their word for that sort of thing. “If you say so.”
“Ask around.”
She was. She did. No one said anything bad or anything at all. “What makes you think I’m interested?”
“Call it a hunch.” He winked at her. “Until next time, Ms. McAdam.”
Then he was gone.