Holy shit.
If Justin had salivated over Emily earlier, it was nothing compared to his reaction when he collected her from her doorstep. His body went into hyperdrive. He was accustomed to her being curvy and cute. But in a deep green dress with a plunging neckline and a slit up the thigh, with chunky black pumps doing amazing things for her legs, he had to tighten his grip on the steering wheel to prevent himself from grabbing her and ripping the dress off.
The woman was built for sin. Her creamy cleavage played peek-a-boo, and he wanted to latch onto the exposed mounds of her breasts with his mouth. He wondered what color her nipples would be. Pale pink or apricot, he guessed, to match her complexion. With effort, he lifted his gaze to her face, only to be captured anew. She’d done something to darken her lashes and bring out the green of her eyes. Her lips glistened bubblegum pink.
“Wow,” he said stupidly. “You, um…”
Great work, man. She’ll be eating up those sweet words.
To his surprise, she beamed. “Best response a girl can hope for.”
Was she humoring him? With most women, he’d assume so, but Emily seemed genuinely pleased.
“You clean up nice,” she carried on, apparently unconcerned by his inability to form a coherent sentence. Her green gaze raked over him from head to toe and she nodded approvingly. “Very nice.”
“Uh, thanks.” Smooth, Justin. Real smooth.
For the remainder of the drive to the vineyard, about half an hour, they didn’t speak. Normally he didn’t worry about participating in small talk for the sake of someone else’s comfort, but for once he wished he had the same silver tongue his brother, Cooper, had been blessed with. He longed to fill the silence with witty banter, or to butter her up with compliments until she was ready to strip naked and go at it in the back seat.
Observing her out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how the faint smile she wore never left her lips. He’d always thought Emily’s perpetual cheerfulness must be an act, but it seemed he’d been wrong. Either that or being here with him had brought a smile to her face.
Yeah, right.
They passed by golden fields, the grass crisped by the midsummer sun. In the twilight, the heat from the sun had cooled enough to stop the tar on the road from melting, but slicks of black amongst the gray indicated that hadn’t been the case all day. He veered around the larger patches. Eventually, the golden fields to his right gave way to rows of grapevines with large green leaves and heavy loads of fruit.
The restaurant came into sight, and he pulled down the driveway and parked beneath the same tree he had earlier. He hurried around to help Emily out. When she took his hand, his gut wrenched with desire at the feel of her smooth, silky skin. Sparks seemed to hum in the air between them as he steadied her with an arm around her waist. Her hair tickled the side of his face and he inhaled the scent of her shampoo, sweet and fruity. Did everything about her have to be so appealing?
“Thanks,” she murmured, smiling up at him.
He fought the urge to brush a kiss over those glossy lips. “Yeah, no worries. Come on. Let’s get inside.”
He ushered her into the restaurant and out through the other side, to a roofed pavilion. A steel arch, heavily adorned with white roses and greenery, stood at the end of an aisle edged by posies of pale pink roses and flowing white fabric. He’d wager that Chloe had selected the decorations.
Rich and two of his private school friends, who Justin vaguely recognized, loitered beneath the arch. Rich wore a white tuxedo with a black shirt and a white bow tie. His blond hair was slicked back, and even from a distance, Justin could tell sweat was beading on his hairline and upper lip. Enjoy the good looks while you can. The stress of marrying Chloe would age him ten years in no time.
More than half of the seats had already filled—Justin had timed their arrival so they wouldn’t have to linger and chat with others. Placing a hand on the small of Emily’s back, grateful to have her there as a distraction, he guided her into a seat in the back row. Over the next few minutes, people trickled into the other unoccupied seats. Justin tensed as he caught sight of a married couple that he and Chloe used to be friends with. They’d chosen to stay in touch with Chloe rather than him after the split.
“How many on the guest list?” he asked.
“About two hundred and fifty,” Emily replied, keeping her voice low as if to avoid attention.
“Goddamn.”
Chloe really had got everything she wanted this time around. Justin had insisted they cull their invite list down to a modest ninety.
“A bit different from what you had planned?”
“You can say that again.”
Finally, the bridal procession music started to play. Justin gritted his teeth and mentally prepared to see his ex, up close, for the first time since she’d walked out on him.
She’s beautiful.
No denying it, Chloe Somers was a stunning woman. Her golden-blonde hair was twisted elegantly atop her head, a few tresses spilling down her back. Perfectly made up and attired in a designer wedding gown, she could have been a Hollywood A-lister. In comparison, Emily felt like a frump. If Chloe had aimed to be the most beautiful woman present at her wedding, mission accomplished.
Beside her, Justin fidgeted. Glancing down, Emily noticed his fists were clenched so hard his knuckles had turned white. Poor guy. This had to be hard for him. Prizing one of his hands from his knees, she clasped it in her own. His fingers were cold and clammy. She squeezed, hoping to reassure him. He squeezed back.
The ceremony passed with much fanfare, but Emily didn’t hear anything, her attention centered on the man next to her, attuned to his every breath, every move. She heard him scoff once or twice during the vows, but he didn’t look away from the bride and groom, not even during the big kiss. She tried not to let the tension emanating from him get to her. She was here for support, which meant she needed to weather any strain with a smile. Now was not the time to let her discomfort with interpersonal issues get the better of her.
When the celebrant pronounced Rich and Chloe husband and wife, indicating the end of the ceremony, friends and family crowded the happy couple, eager to extend their blessings. Emily and Justin stayed put. When the photographer started gathering groups for the family photos, they slipped inside the reception room and found places designated for them at one of the long tables. Dinner was due to begin as soon as family photos were complete. From her involvement in the wedding planning, Emily knew the bridal party photos had already been taken earlier in the day, when the lighting was better.
Emily scanned the other name cards on their table. She recognized a few names. Would Justin? He wasn’t as social as she, or exposed to the community as often, but he and Chloe must share a circle of acquaintances to a certain extent.
“Do you know any of these people?”
Justin nodded. “These ones,” he pointed to the seats across from theirs, “were mutual friends of Chloe and I when we were together. So were the couples on either side of us.”
Awkward. “I guess it must be hard when you’d been together for so long. You grew up knowing the same people.”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t read his expression. “But you quickly learn who your real friends are,” he added.
Hopefully he considered her a friend. At the very least, she wanted to be someone he could count on. She murmured agreement. Enough depressing stuff.
“How’s your work going at the moment?” she asked. “Must be a busy time of year for you.”
“It is,” he agreed. “Lots of people on the trails and a lot of maintenance work is needed on the huts and tracks.”
“Long days?”
“Yeah, but it’s my favorite time of year, so I don’t mind.” For the first time since they’d arrived this evening, he smiled. Emily cheered internally. “The birds are out singing every day and the sun is shining. Prime work conditions.”
Many times over the years, Emily had seen Justin around in his khaki ranger uniform. It made him look virile and capable. Very sexy. Not that he needed any help in that department.
“Sometimes I wish I could spend a little more time out in nature,” she confessed. “But working with flowers gives me a taste of it. That’s why I won’t hire another florist, even though it would allow me more time to manage the gift store and my tenants. Sure, business is interesting, but I love creating pretty things with my hands even more.”
“So, that’s where it comes from,” Justin said.
“What?”
“The name of your shop.”
“Ah, right.” She’d named her floristry and gift shop ‘Pretty Things,’ and he was spot on about her reasoning.
“You must put in a lot of hours to stay on top of things.”
His upper arm brushed her shoulder and she instinctively leaned into him, expecting him to pull away, but instead he lowered his head until she could feel his breath on the shell of her ear. Goosebumps rippled up her arms.
“I do,” she said shakily, “but like you, it’s not a hardship, since I love my job.”
He laughed, husky and low. “Nice to know we’re doing something right, isn’t it?”
“We’re doing plenty right,” she replied firmly. After all, they both had stable jobs they enjoyed, good friends, and nice homes. Things could be much worse. She liked her life. The only thing that might improve it was the man beside her.
Before long, others joined them. Emily focused on remembering names and faces. She made idle small talk, got them laughing. Most seemed to be nice people. Justin barely spoke, seemingly content to let her keep the conversation flowing, which was fine by her. That was her forte at work too. The longer people chatted in her shop, the more they bought, which meant a better bottom line.
Thank God for Emily.
She smiled, complimented people, poured drinks from the bottles of wine routinely brought to the table, and generally kept the evening flowing smoothly. Hell, Justin hardly had to say a word; she had him covered. No one needed anything from him with Emily there. He watched her work her magic, admiration blooming deep in his chest. How did she do it? How could she be so ceaselessly nice and unobjectionable that everyone she met liked her?
More than one of his old friends winked at him behind her back or shot him a jealous glance. He puffed with pride. Emily may not technically be his woman, but they didn’t know that, and he’d do his level best to earn a chance with her before the night was over. While it was true that she could have any available man in Itirangi with a crook of her finger, the fact she hadn’t shown any desire to do so, at least during the year that he’d been paying attention, boded well for him. And yes, she deserved a better man—one who didn’t scowl so much and was more even-tempered—but he was too selfish to care.
Before he knew it, dinner had finished. They endured a half-dozen terrible speeches, then the bride and groom took to the dance floor for their first dance. Some forgettable pop song came over the loudspeakers. Another choice of Chloe’s, no doubt.
The happy couple swayed together. No one joined them. They wanted the spotlight all to themselves. But when the second song began, Justin claimed Emily’s hand and tugged her onto the dance floor. Someone knocked into her back and he took advantage of the jolt to scooch her closer, resting his hand on her hip, no space between their bodies. When she laid her head on his chest and sighed happily, he wondered if she could hear his heart racing.
She did that to him. Drove him crazy.
Slipping his other arm around her, his palm curved into her lower back just above her butt, high enough not to draw attention, but low enough for her to know he had more on his mind than friendship. The curve where her hips flared out begged for his fingers and he longed to explore it more thoroughly.
Emily arched into his embrace, lacing her hands behind his neck and closing her eyes as she moved in time to the music. The sight of her shuttered eyelids and parted lips illuminated by the soft overhead lighting was so erotic, he had to look away before he embarrassed them both. Thankfully, the next song had a Latin beat, quick and funky, not conducive to slow dancing. A reprieve. Or so he thought, but then Emily’s eyes fluttered open and lit with excitement.
Holy hell, he was done for.
Slow dancing with Justin had set fire to Emily’s nerve ends. Being pressed against his chiseled chest had aroused her body, while the possessive way he’d held her seduced her heart. She had no answer for it. Then the next song started, and all of the Latin dancing lessons she and her friend Clarissa had taken when they were younger rushed to the front of her mind. She knew this song, and if ever there was a chance to rock Justin’s world, this was it.
She tried not to overthink, letting muscle memory take over. She whirled around, the first steps of the salsa coming easily. Justin didn’t know the moves, so she improvised, wildly happy when he became slack-jawed with astonishment. And, she hoped, a little lust. Call her crazy, but she thought he might finally see her as a woman.
When the dance petered out, he stopped her and called over the sound of the crowd, “That was hot.”
“That was fun!” she exclaimed in response, exhilarated both from the dance and the look in his eye. That dark, heated expression could only be desire. He wanted her.
“I’ll get us a drink while you catch your breath,” he said, leading her from the dance floor then dropping her hand to head to the bar. Emily swayed with the beat as another song started, watching the dancers. Everyone seemed joyful, the way they should at a wedding. The beginning of two people’s lifetime together. The most beautiful commitment ever. She smiled.
A man she didn’t know appeared in front of her. “Hey, pretty lady. What’s your name?”
He grinned, crinkles forming around his vivid blue eyes. His fair hair was cut close to his skull, and while he wasn’t much taller than her, his collared shirt clung to his muscular torso and he radiated masculine confidence. She knew his type. Plenty of alpha males had asked her out before. Enough that she could pick one out in a crowd.
Most of the local men didn’t push when she said no. They knew she hardly ever dated. She had dated before—she wasn’t totally inexperienced—but she rarely found the time or the inclination. She’d been out a handful of times in the past few years but hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since her school days, and that had ended when he couldn’t envision a future in Itirangi and she couldn’t contemplate being anywhere else.
The guy who’d approached her didn’t know she’d rather be left alone, and he didn’t look as if he would accept a polite dismissal. Her heart sank. Hopefully if she bored him, he’d move on soon enough. She hated confrontation, and some men got ugly when rejected, especially if they weren’t aware she turned most people down and took it personally.
“Emily,” she replied, not asking for his name in return.
“Em,” he confirmed, shortening her name without bothering to ask what she preferred.
Another typical alpha male move, assuming familiarity where there was none. “I’m Sam.”
“Nice to meet you.” She gazed over his shoulder, trying not to encourage him.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied with a wink. “Come and dance with me, Em. I saw you out there before and you’ve got some moves. I’d love to show you mine.”
She didn’t doubt that. But she’d rather spend her time with a silent hulk who was incapable of doing more than the two-step shuffle. Thankfully, Justin strode back across the room toward them, a glass of champagne in one hand and a beer in the other. When he caught sight of Emily and Sam, he glowered and quickened his pace.
“Hey, baby,” he said, ducking to kiss her forehead. He passed her the wine glass and dragged her into an embrace with his newly free arm. “Miss me?” Emily stared at him, dumbstruck. Justin smoldered down at her, then lifted his gaze to Sam, raising an eyebrow in an unspoken challenge. “Introduce me to your new friend.”
“Justin, this is Sam,” Emily said. The two men engaged in some kind of macho posturing. Emily shrank in on herself, uncomfortable with the tension between them. The men held eye contact until Sam rolled his shoulders, tipped his head to Emily and took off. The moment he was gone, she pulled free of Justin.
“Are men always like that with you?” he asked, apparently concerned.
“You mean, a bit pushy?”
“‘A bit’ may be an understatement. That guy was pushy as hell.”
Emily shrugged one shoulder. “The tourists can be like that. Locals aren’t so bad. I should probably be meaner, but you know how I am.”
She was too nice for her own good.
“They should see you’re uncomfortable and leave you alone,” he fired back. He grabbed her shoulders and smoldered again. “Tell me if I’m stepping over a line, but tonight, I want you to be all mine, Emily. And I don’t share.”
The possessive tone of his voice sent shivers down her spine. “You’re not stepping over a line,” she whispered, “but what do you want with me, Justin?”
“Right now, I want you all to myself. Walk outside with me?”
She nodded. She could think of nothing she’d rather do.