Going home was never easy for Gretchen. As the youngest of four children, she had always felt as though she were watching someone else’s family as she navigated the relationships and roles that were put in place long before she surprised her parents with her birth. But despite her feelings toward her family as a whole, she loved her older brother, Brock, and he was getting married. So Gretchen had packed her bags and made the trip home for the big day. Now she sat in the balcony of the church, watching as her brother’s fiancée, Maria, and her mother talked with the wedding director about the last of the details before the rehearsal began. She hadn’t spoken with anyone in the wedding party since she arrived, and instead had disappeared to the balcony where she could gather the nerve to face the disapproval of her mother. There was no use in trying to make small talk with her sisters or any of the other bridesmaids. It had been pretty clear her entire life that she was the odd woman out.
Originally, her partner, Neil, was supposed to have been her date, but with the case gaining momentum, their captain had kept him in town, claiming he was making enough of a sacrifice by letting Gretchen disappear for the weekend. She wished now she had fought harder for him to join her. He was good-looking and, like her, a good enough liar that he would have had her mother eating out of his hand by the end of the rehearsal. Instead, Gretchen was alone, and knew she would only find more ways to disappoint her mother.
Gretchen looked up, feeling a collective sigh from the bridesmaids below as the room around her seemed to sizzle and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose in awareness.
“He’s here,” a female voice whispered in appreciation.
“I’m surprised the church isn’t in flames.” Another giggled in fascination.
Gretchen turned slowly toward the door, knowing there could only be one man they were all talking about. In the doorway stood Finnegan James, all six-foot-four inches of hard male, looking much too dangerous to be standing in a sanctuary. He wore a black suit obviously made to fit his perfectly molded body, the white shirt underneath was opened at the neck. He had foregone a tie, proof that rebel blood still ran through his veins. Gretchen didn’t move as she watched him, fallen angel that he was, as he moved cautiously down the aisle. He scanned the lower room with cool lead-gray eyes before he looked up and spotted her. She felt the moment that his eyes landed on her, assessing her, and she wondered if he was trying to reconcile the woman in front of him with the child he had claimed her to be when he last saw her. If the way his eyes narrowed and he pulled his lower lip between his teeth were any indication, he was definitely not seeing a child. Heat flared up her bare neck and into her cheeks, and her nipples hardened into tight pebbles. Finn James had fascinated her for years. He had been in his twenties before Gretchen had ever started to understand sex or lust, but that had never stopped her mouth from watering when she thought of him. In the ten years since he had last touched her, she hadn’t found anyone who made her crave his touch the way she still craved Finn’s.
She turned her eyes away, forcing the image of him bending her over the church pew from her mind. She didn’t need any reason for God to be upset with her, and Finn was certainly on the side of the devil.
Finn was glad when Brock came to stand beside him, offering a confident pat on the back. The pretty blonde with the emerald eyes was drawing him in like a trap, and he did not need any complications at the moment. He turned to his friend and smiled uncomfortably. He hadn’t been in a church since his mother’s funeral ten years before. There was too much blood on his hands for churches, too much sin around him to believe God could ever find anything redeeming inside him. As if he needed proof there was no hope for him, his eyes were drifting back to the blonde, and he was growing hard imagining bending her over the pew in front of her. Brock’s chuckle beside him brought him out of his dirty daydream and had him turning, an eyebrow cocked questioningly.
“They’re bridesmaids, Finn, not an all-you-can-eat buffet.”
Finn laughed, but the look he gave Brock assured his friend he intended to taste at least one of the delectable bridesmaids.
“So, what do you think?” Brock asked quietly. “Am I making a huge mistake, or is it the best thing I’ve ever done?”
Finn shook his head and slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “I couldn’t tell you,” he answered honestly. “For me, it’d be a huge mistake, but you’re not me, Brock ole boy. You’re not me.”
Brock grinned and clapped a hand on his oldest friend’s shoulder.
“One of my few regrets in life,” he quipped and Finn laughed.
“Yeah I bet.”
They turned at the sound of footsteps behind them, but not before Finn cast another glance at the blonde in the balcony. Bennett Christensen, Brock’s father, and one of the wealthiest men on the East Coast, walked up, seeing his only son with his best friend, standing in their dark suits.
“Finnegan.” Bennett smiled. “It’s been too long, son.” He wrapped Finn in a hug with a stiff pat on the back. “How have you been?” he asked, pulling away.
Brock’s father was one of the few men whom Finn tolerated calling him son, probably because he was the only one who ever said it as if having Finn for a son would have been a gift instead of a burden.
“I’ve been good, Mr. Chris. You?”
“Good, good,” Bennett answered. It was obvious there was something bothering him.
“Gretchen’s not here yet.” Bennett sighed with a shake of his head.
“There’s still fifteen minutes before the rehearsal starts.” Brock ran a hand over the back of his neck. “She told me last night she’d be here, so she’ll be here.”
Bennett nodded and ran a hand through his thinning hair. Finn’s eyes glanced again to the balcony, but the blonde was gone.
“You’re probably right,” Bennett answered, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“Brock, honey, could you come here a minute?” His older sister Abigail stepped forward, shooting Finn a sultry glance from under dark lashes.
“Yeah, sure.” Brock followed his sister, leaving Bennett and Finn thinking.
“Have you heard from Gretchen lately?” Bennett asked, and Finn turned toward him, shaking his head.
He thought back to the last time he had seen Gretchen, and tried not to remember how beautifully vulnerable she’d looked as he had turned her away. “No,” he replied, “not since my mom…”
“That’s a shame,” Bennett told him. “You know, she always looked up to you, admired you.”
“Then maybe it’s better that she lost me as an influence.” He smirked, but Bennett only smiled.
“She’s a lot like you, Finn. Maybe that’s why she’s my favorite.” He winked.
Finn opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as he caught sight of the blonde slipping out the back doors of the church.
* * * * *
Finn entered the hotel bar desperately in need of a strong drink. The rehearsal had been excruciating. If he had thought the bridesmaids were attractive when he had first entered the church, that had all changed in the hour or more he had spent listening to them nitpick every aspect of the wedding like a bunch of old biddies. He was convinced the rest of the weekend wouldn’t be any better.
“I’ll take a Rusty Nail,” he ordered, leaning against the bar.
He scanned the room as he waited and spotted the sexy blonde from the church. She was perched primly on a barstool facing the windows overlooking the river and spinning her wineglass in her fingers. She lifted the glass to her lips and he immediately pictured them stretched around his dick. Maybe this weekend wouldn’t be a complete waste after all.
“Your Rusty Nail.” The bartender slid his drink across the glossy wood bar top and Finn thanked him, taking the glass and leaving a bill in its place. He had just decided to introduce himself to the mystery woman when he heard the shrill sound of Bianca Christensen Van Hoose’s voice, the second oldest of the Christensen clan.
“There you are,” she screeched.
He cringed. She was currently going through a pretty nasty divorce, and from the looks of it over the past two hours, she was on the search for a rebound. There were very few women Finn was unwilling to share himself with, but at the top of the list were Abigail, Bianca and…
“Gretchen Christensen, where the hell have you been?” Abigail demanded, following Bianca.
Finn looked around the room for Brock’s youngest sister; the only person who had ever loved him without condition or expectation. He had hoped he would get the chance to see her on this trip and maybe apologize for how he had hurt her years ago.
The blonde stood from the stool across the room. She paused when she spotted him and shot him a wicked grin before making her way to Brock’s sisters. Finn stared after her, unable to move, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. The last time he had seen Gretchen in her running shorts and tank top fleeing his hotel room, she had been beautiful, her young body still molding itself into that of a woman, but as he looked at her now, the fabric of her dress hugging the curves of her hips and the tight muscles of her ass, he couldn’t help but see that she was definitely not a child anymore.
“You told Brock you would be at the church,” Bianca berated her, and Finn watched as Gretchen shook her head. The blonde hair that had once fell in unruly waves had been tamed into a sleek, stick-straight ponytail held by a small band at her nape.
“I was at the church,” she told them. “I just…”
“Please, Gretchen.” Abigail rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother lying, you were obviously—”
He spoke up. “She was there.”
Finn came to stand behind Gretchen, his chest a solid wall of warmth at her back. She suppressed a shiver. “I saw her. She was in the balcony.”
“See.” She lifted her chin. “I was trying to stay out of the way, just how Mom likes me.”
She could tell her sisters had been looking forward to the hell their mother was going to give her for not showing up. They were severely disappointed now.
“Well,” Bianca huffed, “we could have used your help.”
“I thought you both did an excellent job.” Finn’s full lips lifted, revealing straight white teeth and one dimple at the corner of his perfect mouth. Gretchen could have sworn she heard the sound of panties dropping. She would have been lying if she said his smile didn’t have her ready to drop her own…if she had been wearing any.
“Well, w-we,” Bianca stammered and Gretchen stifled a laugh.
“I would have just gotten in your way,” she humored her older sisters. “You know me.”
They both nodded and smiled, when in fact neither of them knew anything about her and hadn’t for at least a decade.
She stood as they made awkward small talk with Finn before they were called away.
“You didn’t have to cover for me,” Gretchen told Finn when they were alone.
“I didn’t see any reason not to tell the truth.” He moved with her back to the bar, taking a long pull of his drink.
“I wasn’t sure you noticed me at the church,” she told him, sipping the last of her wine.
“I definitely noticed you.” He gave her another of his sultry grins.
“You didn’t recognize me though.” She fake pouted, pleased when his eyes latched on to her lips.
He gave her an obvious once-over and Gretchen recognized the flare of lust that turned his gray eyes just a bit blue.
“No, I didn’t,” he admitted. “You’ve changed.”
Gretchen gave a satisfied smirk and leaned over, pressing her firm breasts against his chest, making sure her hip brushed lightly against his crotch.
“Yeah, I’m not a virgin anymore,” she whispered in his ear before turning and going to join her family.
* * * * *
As Finn looked around the ballroom of the Christensens’ hotel, he swore that if he ever got married he was marrying a poor girl who would agree to run away and not tell anyone. He knew it was more likely he would never get married.
The room was filled with people and he was fairly certain Brock and Maria didn’t know half of them. A part of Finn envied his friend, not his wealth. Finn had more money than he knew what to do with, even if he did sometimes have to lie about where it came from. He had wished as they were growing up for a family like Brock’s. The idea of a mother who was sober more often than not and a father who came home every night, instead of a string of boyfriends and johns, had seemed like a simple enough wish for a young boy. Now, as a man, he saw how happy Brock was, and he envied him all over again, because he was fairly certain he would never find a happiness like that. If he were honest, he would have to admit that he didn’t necessarily deserve one either.
He looked up as they called the single women to the dance floor for the bouquet toss, and a gaggle of women flooded the floor. Maria stepped forward with the small bouquet designed for such an event, but she didn’t throw it. She was looking at the eager group of women and searching the room.
“Where’s Gretchen?” she yelled over the music.
“Gretchen,” the DJ spoke into the microphone. “Gretchen, you have been summoned to the dance floor.”
Finn smiled and looked around the room, spotting Gretchen at the bar, shaking her head.
“Come on,” Maria called, waving her over.
Gretchen stared daggers at her new sister-in-law before turning them to her mother. He thought he saw her threaten bodily harm as she made her way through the crowd and to the dance floor.
The music started again and Maria turned, lifting the bouquet in the air then tossing it in a perfect arch to the back of the group, where Gretchen caught it easily. Maria turned, squealing delightfully as Gretchen shook her head.
Brock passed by Finn on his way to strip the garter from his new wife’s thigh, and he clapped Finn on the shoulder.
“Come on,” he told him. “You have a garter to try for.”
Finn smiled at his friend. Normally, he would have sat out this part of the reception, but as he thought of the chance to get next to Gretchen, he found himself following his friend.
Gretchen watched, more than a little surprised, as Finn eagerly joined the single men who had made their way to the dance floor. She could have sworn he was watching her as he stood, waiting for Brock to finish his ridiculous attempt at being funny and sexy as he slid the garter from Maria’s leg. She was even more surprised when all of the men stepped away from the garter, and Finn reached out casually and plucked it from the air. She could tell from Brock’s hearty laugh that he was surprised as well.
Finn grinned at her and made his way across the dance floor toward her, holding the small ring of fabric on his finger.
“Do you get this too?” he asked her with his signature grin.
Gretchen returned his smile and leaned forward.
“Only if you’re going to slide it up my bare thigh,” she whispered in his ear. She felt his slight tremble as he moved closer, his hand clenching possessively at her waist. Before he could come up with a retort, Maria was behind him, already chattering excitedly.
Finn pulled back, but his eyes promised Gretchen he wasn’t finished, and she hoped for the sake of her suddenly wet pussy that he was right.
“You two have to dance now,” Maria told them, pushing them onto the dance floor.
Gretchen thought about protesting, but then Finn’s hands were at her waist again, pulling her against him, and her arms were going around his neck.
Despite how little Gretchen knew of Finn, she slid easily into his arms, finding that she fit almost perfectly. She had known her body would react to him, but was still surprised at how quickly such an innocent touch had her burning for more of him. She remembered how it had felt to have him against her all those years ago, his broad fingers entering her untried tunnel.
Her breath quickened and she dropped her eyes to where Finn’s hardening dick was beginning to press against her lower belly.
The song ended, and they parted reluctantly as the dance floor was again flooded with drunken partygoers.
“I have a room upstairs,” he whispered in her ear, sending chills over her bare neck.
“I’ll meet you in mine,” Gretchen replied, slipping a key into the pocket of his tuxedo pants and leaving him in the middle of the dance floor.
* * * * *
When Finn let himself into Gretchen’s room short minutes later, he was surprised to find her standing by the window, watching the boats on the river, with soft music playing in the background. He was more surprised by the urge to tell her what a beautiful picture it made. He fought the urge to turn and flee the room. He knew despite what he had said about her being a child years ago, he had never been a match for Gretchen Christensen. She was perhaps the one woman who could have him on his knees, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he wouldn’t love every damn second of it.
“I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up,” she told him without turning.
He pictured himself striding across the floor, his long legs quickly shortening the distance, and taking her small waist in his large hands, pulling her back against his chest. He wanted to bend and kiss her neck, as if it were something he was allowed to do whenever the desire arose.
“I shouldn’t want you like this,” he whispered, not sure where the need to confess had come from.
She turned toward him and he could see her nervousness on her pretty face. He remembered now why he had pushed her away ten years ago. Gretchen was too good for him. He had nothing to offer a woman like her, he could never be the type of man who would give her the stable life of luxury that her mother had groomed her for.
The phone in his pocket vibrated, giving him the distraction he needed to be able to turn away from her.
“Dammit,” he muttered, pulling the phone from his pocket. “I’m sorry.” He strode back to the door. “Yeah, what the fuck do you want?” he growled into the phone. “I’m two hours away. Can’t Carlisle handle his own shit for one night?”
He watched Gretchen as she stood by the window, knowing that she could never fit into the life he led.
“Jesus,” he swore as Grant fed him the information coming from the club. “I’ll be there.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and faced Gretchen.
“Gretch,” he started, but she only shook her head and began straightening her dress and the few blonde curls that had worked their way out of the combs meant to hold them away from her face.
“Go, handle whatever it is you have to handle. I should get back downstairs anyway.”
“It’s probably best,” he tried again. “I was right to stop this years ago. The two of us…”
“Of course,” Gretchen managed, and although she had been sure he could never break her heart again, she found that he could.
She heard her own phone sounding now and she turned, making her way to the dresser to pick it up.
“Neil, honey, I was waiting on your call,” she greeted her partner cheerfully, smiling brightly at Finn. “I wish I was there too.”
Finn stared back at her and Gretchen met his eyes before giving a careless shrug and watching as he turned and tried to leave the room without slamming the door loudly behind him. She waited before walking to the door and sliding the lock into place.
“What have you got?” she asked Neil.
“Shit just hit the fan at Carlisle’s club,” Neil was telling her. “You picked a hell of a weekend to go on sabbatical. He’s calling in the big guns for this.”
Gretchen smiled to herself, realizing why Carlisle’s right-hand man had seemed so familiar to her.
“He’s two hours out,” she told Neil as she began to gather her own things and pack her bags for the drive home.
“What? How do you know that?”
“Because he just left my hotel room,” she told him. “I’ll see you in two hours.”