Bad Boy's Bridesmaid: A Secret Baby Romance (9 page)

“
You
told
Mandy you’d help with the musician auditions?”

Bryce didn’t
believe me. He was smarter than he let on. I promised a lot of things to get balls-deep
into a girl. Most of it I regretted the next morning.

This time I’d have
promised anything just to
talk
to Mandy again.

I offered him a
beer from behind the bar, but it was before noon, and he had to save his liver
until the reception. He asked for orange juice instead.

“I figured I’d
help you guys out,” I said. “My taste in music is a hell of a lot better than
yours.”

“And Mandy’s
okay with it?”

“Sure.” It was a
lie. She had no idea I was coming, but that made it fun. “We could use some
time together.”

“Careful.
Lindsey will chew you up and spit you out if you mess with her sister.” Bryce
sighed. “At least before the wedding.”

“Mandy’s
perfectly safe with me.”

“Yeah, right.”

The first time I
wasn’t actually looking to screw around, and even my best friend didn’t trust
my intentions. Damn. I’d be insulted if I wasn’t trying to apologize to Mandy
so we could pick up where we left off.

But she hadn’t
answered my calls or replied to my texts all week. It meant that I had to get
crafty. Meet up with her in a place she wouldn’t expect me.

I never wanted a
woman as badly as I wanted Mandy. I’d be damned if I pretended to be a prince,
and I wasn’t the type of man who’d reaffirm her faith in marriage and
relationships. But I could at least remind her she was twenty-three and had an
entire life ahead of her before she turned jaded. Why waste the fun years
worrying?

And so I did
something I wasn’t proud of. Something I never thought I’d offer.

I took on more
wedding responsibilities.

Bryce shoved a
notebook over my bar and gave me Lindsey’s criteria for what she expected from
her musicians.

“Dude, I can’t
thank you enough. I need a break.” Bryce looked like he hadn’t slept, and I
doubted it was any pre-wedding sex keeping him up. “Don’t get married, Nate.”

“Wasn’t planning
on it.”

“This
magical
day?” He sipped the orange juice before gesturing for something stronger. “It
feels like we’re paying fifty grand for some appetizers and a day of stress.”

“Then comes the
wedding night.”

“Yeah...” His
voice trailed off. “She wants to try for kids right away.”

“
What
?”

“She said it
would bring us closer together.”

“Closer than a
legally binding contract?” I snorted. “Christ, you’ll share a
tax return
.
How much closer can you get?”

“I know, man. I’m
just trying to stay out of swinging range.”

“Good call.”

“Lindsey won’t
be at the audition. She said she wants to be surprised when she walks down the
aisle. So try to find a band that would make her
weep
but not actually
sob
.”

“O-kay.”

Bryce eyed the
beers on tap. He was welcomed to as much as he needed to make it until the
wedding. He shook his head.

“Remember to
write what you
feel
when you hear the music. Lindsey would like a short
essay. Nothing crazy.”

Yeah. Because an
essay
wasn’t
insane.

Bryce handed me
the rest of the homework Lindsey required. I should have said something, should
have warned him right then and there.

Getting married
to his girl shouldn’t have come with an alcohol habit and a thousand-yard
stare. He should have been happy. Excited to see his woman. Thrilled to touch
her.

Willing to
wedding
plan
just to make sure he hadn’t fucked everything up.

I didn’t even
recognize myself. This was the last goddamned time I let myself get wound
around a woman. Mandy was special, but I had no idea she was
subject-myself-to-wedding-bands special. Now I couldn’t get her scent, her
taste, or her beautiful smile out of my head.

One more night
with her would satisfy my urges. It had to.

Maybe a morning
goodbye quickie too. She’d look gorgeous basking in the golden early morning
light. Then we’d have breakfast in bed, the perfect way to regain strength for
a mid-afternoon fuck. Hell, while she was already there, it was easy enough to
keep her with me for another night…

That was a dangerous
fantasy. Even more dangerous because I already imagined how the morning sun would
strike her naked body, wrapped only in a silken sheet. Mandy was all about
contrasts. White sheets, dark skin, passionate lover, sweet friend.

Good girl at
home, bad girl for me.

I would seduce
Mandy Prescott again, and I’d introduce her to more pleasure than she knew
existed. We’d use each other for stress relief until the wedding, no regrets.

I had to
convince her it was a good idea.

Easier said than
done.

Lindsey reserved
the fellowship hall at my dad’s church for the auditions. I hadn’t been there
since Easter, and that wasn’t by choice. Mom had called, flustered and sobbing
because she lost the pink Easter hat Dad demanded she wear. Had I not been
there to hold her hand, Dad would have turned the sermon from the joyful
resurrection to something fire, brimstone, and focused on the role of the
family—father as head of the church with the rest of us mere mortals
subservient to him.

I didn’t bother
visiting him. His office door was
always open
, but only to his
parishioners. God forbid his own family had problems that required counseling. That
would have meant we were imperfect and reflected badly on him.

I jogged the
steps down to the fellowship hall, passing a man tuning his oboe in the
stairwell.

Great. Lindsey
ordered a
symphony
.

Mandy had set up
a card table with a tablet at her fingers, score cards and listed criteria
spread out before her. She snapped a selfie to post to whatever bullshit Instagram
or Facebook album Lindsey demanded to chronicle her wedding planning.

I picked a chair
from the stack against the wall and plunked it next to Mandy. She flinched, but
her expression knotted both relief and apprehension into a wobbly smile.

“I thought you
were Lindsey,” she said.

“I’m much worse,
apparently.”

She cleared her
throat and crossed her legs. Like I’d prop ‘em open and dig in during the
auditions.

“You’ll never be
worse than Lindsey,” she said.

“I’ll take it as
a compliment.”

“What are you
doing here?”

“Bryce asked me
to help judge the bands.” There was some truth to the statement. “Figured I’d
come visit. See if you had it handled.”

Mandy stared
straight ahead. “Yep. All good. I’ll be okay on my own.”

“Nah, that’s not
fair.” I crossed my arms behind my head, leaning back in my chair. “No sense
doing this alone, baby.”

“I’m doing a lot
of things alone.”

“No need.” I
winked. “I’m at your service tonight.”

“I know what
you’re trying to do—”

“I’m trying to
take some of the pressure off you. Get these bands all auditioned and cataloged
for Queen Lindsey.”

Mandy didn’t
believe me, and she had good instincts. It didn’t stop her from gnawing on that
perfect, full lip. Her fingers twisted in her skirt.

I loved to watch
her squirm.

I was serious
the last time I trapped her in my embrace. I wanted her to think of me, dream
of me,
want
me every second of the day. When I first tasted her, I fantasized
about being the only man who could pleasure her that well. Fortunately, I had
no competition.

But it wasn’t
enough. Something about this woman had changed since the last time I slept with
her—something that made her absolutely
irresistible
.

“The first band
comes highly recommended,” Mandy said. “Traditional sound. Quartet.”

“So…this is how
it’s going to be?”

She knew
exactly
what I meant. “I have to audition these groups for my sister.”

“We’re not even
going to talk about what happened the other day?”

Mandy scribbled
on the corner of the paper, accidently poking a hole through the essay section
with the pen.

“I thought you
said we wouldn’t have to talk about it? My one
freebie
was supposed to
come with
no
strings.”

“Yeah, but I
think you’d feel better if you talked about it.”

Her smile wasn’t
kind. “You know, Nate. With your reputation? I expected you to back off once
you got what you wanted.”

So did I. “Maybe
I want something else.”

“And what’s that?”

“You.”

Mandy hesitated.
“Do you know what I need?”

“What?”

“The only thing
I’ve ever asked of you.” Her almond eyes met mine briefly, a quick tease of
power she didn’t know she possessed. “I want to make it to the wedding without
any more complications.”

“How do you know
I’d complicate things?”

“You already
have.”

She smiled at
the musicians timidly waiting at the door. If they thought auditioning for a
wedding was strange, they didn’t say anything.

Christ, I hoped
there weren’t more brides like Lindsey making demands in the world.

The first two
groups performed their sets and sounded decent. Wasn’t my type of music, but
it’d work for a wedding. Of course, my opinion wasn’t good enough for the
bride.

Lindsey armed
Mandy with score cards and instructions. She demanded a shit ton of information
about her music—well beyond genres and skills. Mood, tone, warmth qualities, sexiness,
ability to cover Adele, and set songs. Nothing about price or availability.
Apparently if she liked them, she’d hire them, no questions asked.

Mandy’s foot
tapped as she listened. She had no idea what she did to me. How long could a
man last watching her wiggle with the beat?

This was no way
to listen to music or judge how
romantic
a song was. The group struck up
a slow ballad and strummed on soft strings with a sultry rhythm. I grabbed the
score cards from Mandy and ripped the paper in two.

Her eyes widened
like I’d burned the US flag or, worse, Lindsey’s wedding program.

“What are you
doing?” Mandy screeched. “Lindsey’s gonna kill me!”

“There’s only
one way to figure out what music is right for a wedding.” I didn’t ask, just
took her hand. “You gotta dance to it, baby.”

“Oh, no.” Mandy
shrunk away, awkwardly shaking her head, even as the band encouraged her.
“Really, I’m good.”

I tugged her out
of the seat. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Dancing with
you?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a
lot
of things that could happen.”

That wasn’t good
enough for me. “I can think of only one—you enjoy it.”

Mandy dug her heels
into the floor, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight me, especially when I
lured her with the most powerful weapon I possessed.

A smile.

“Nate—”

I wrapped her in
my embrace, but I was a gentleman. I kept my hands at her hips. It was the only
thing that prevented her from dissolving into a puddle of embarrassment. I
liked that. For whatever reason, it was cute on her. She panicked around me like
she didn’t trust herself so near my body.

Not in the
swaying music.

Not with my
touch upon her waist.

Not with my
breath in her ear.

The ballad
slowed and dipped, and the musicians helped me out. They played a slower,
sexier, more intimate song, and Mandy couldn’t escape the beat.

Her fingers
curled into my shirt, and she didn’t pull away. I’d take anything I could get. Simply
touching this woman excited me. I never wanted to let her go.

For the first
time, I stopped caring what it meant. It was time to keep her in my arms.

“You don’t trust
me, do you?” I breathed deep, savoring the warm vanilla trace over her skin.

Her body
softened, and she rocked within my arms.

“I don’t trust
your intentions,” she said.

“You know what
they are.”

“You want to
sleep with me.”

Yes. Definitely.
Maybe more, but neither of us had the clarity of thought to imagine beyond the
bedroom.

“You’re
beautiful. You’re sweet. You’re the best fuck I ever had.”

Her voice
lowered. “I bet you say that to all the virgins.”