Jilted: Promise Harbor, Book 1 (8 page)

“That wasn’t very enthusiastic. I thought you loved living in Boston.”

“I do. Of course I do.”

“How’s your job going?”

She didn’t immediately answer, then said, “It’s fine.” She hitched a shoulder. “You know. Same old.”

He blinked. Devon loved her job and had had all kinds of ambitions for moving up in the company. She’d loved to talk about it, and he’d always enjoyed listening to her, sounding so smart and passionate. “I heard that you moved.”

“Yeah.” She’d lived in a tiny little bachelor apartment when they’d been together. “I found a really nice apartment downtown. In a high rise. I like it.”

“Big enough to hold your shoe collection?” He’d always teased her about her weakness for shoes.

She gave him a halfhearted smile. “Yes, it has lots of closet space.”

“You looked really pretty,” he said, surprising even himself with that one. “At the wedding. That was a nice dress.”

Her bottom lip pushed out a little, but she still smiled. “Thanks. I didn’t get to wear it for very long.”

“You’ll be able to wear it again.”

“True. And that is really the
least
important reason in the world for being sad about what happened today.”

He sighed again. “God, Dev. I can’t believe it.”

“Maybe you should try to call Allie again.”

“I’ve tried. She’s either screening my call or has the phone off. Or the battery’s dead. She always forgets to charge her phone.”

“D’you…think she still cares about him?”

Josh drained his beer while he thought that over. “I don’t know. I thought she cared about me.” He gave a short laugh. “Obviously I was wrong about that.” He knew that Allie had been crazy in love with Gavin at one time, though. And you didn’t always get over feelings like that so easily.

He glanced again at the woman beside him, the woman he’d been thinking about the night before his wedding. The woman he still thought about a lot, if he was being perfectly honest with himself. He’d been bitter for a long time after he’d moved back to Promise Harbor, hurt that Devon hadn’t been willing to give up big-city life and move back there with him. No, you didn’t get over feelings like that so easily.

How differently would things have turned out if she’d come with him? Maybe the wedding today would have been
their
wedding. Christ. That thought just made his gut hurt, so he shoved it ruthlessly away. There was no point in going there. Things were the way they were, and that was that.

“Let’s go,” he said abruptly, sliding off the stool. He’d signed the bill to have it charged to their room, and he tossed some bills onto the bar for a tip.

Chapter Six

Devon grabbed her purse and followed Josh out of the noisy little bar with an envious glance at a martini a girl was drinking. She needed more than one glass of wine to be able to deal with all this. She wanted to stop and grab that martini out of the girl’s hand and toss it back.

As she walked through the small bar, she again scanned the faces of other people there. She hadn’t spotted anyone who looked like William Mudge when they’d arrived, either in the lobby or here in the bar. Although all she had to go on was a small head shot from the company website.

But if he was here with his family, he probably wouldn’t be in the bar on a Saturday night.

The lobby glowed with low light from the table lamps and the fireplace, outside now totally dark. Josh strode past the chairs and tables and headed up the stairs, and she trailed along behind him. So they were going back to the room. Er, suite. Great.

It was only about nine thirty, a little early for going to bed.

Bed.

She gulped at the thought of being with Josh in a room with a bed.

But she wouldn’t. The bedroom was hers, and he was sleeping in the living room. On the couch. That made into a bed.

Really, she hadn’t thought this through when she’d suggested this little trip. Her first thought had been holy crap, Greenbush Island. William Mudge. The real reason she’d come home to Promise Harbor.

Well, mostly.

She hadn’t thought past what would happen when they got there and either found Allie and Gavin or not.

Okay, it wasn’t a hotel room, it was a
suite
. Lots of room.

When they’d walked in earlier and she’d seen the romantic ambience created by all the candles and flower petals and champagne—oh hey, they could still drink the champagne—she’d found herself on the verge of tears. It was so beautiful and romantic and special. But not for her. It had been meant for Allie, and her heart had squeezed painfully at that realization.

Josh unlocked the door and walked in, and she headed straight for the silver bucket still sitting on the console table behind the sofa. She pulled the dripping bottle out of the bucket and held it up. “No sense in wasting this,” she said. “It’s a very nice champagne. Let’s have some.”

Josh threw himself down onto the soft, cream upholstered couch piled with cushions. “Sure,” he said. “I don’t know anything about champagne.” He extended a hand, and she gave him the bottle to open. She picked up the two flute glasses and rounded the couch to sit beside him.

He popped the cork expertly for a guy who knew nothing about champagne, and carefully poured the bubbly golden liquid into the glasses. He reached behind him to return the bottle to the ice bucket, then lifted his glass. “Cheers,” he said with a glum smile.

“Cheers.” She touched the rim of her glass to his with a gentle clink, then sipped the wine. “Very nice.”

Josh picked up the remote control for the flat screen television mounted to the wall above the fireplace, both flanked by feathery palm trees in wicker baskets. Curious, Devon rose and approached the fireplace…yes, it was gas, and she found the switch to turn it on.

“It’s fake,” Josh said, sounding mildly disgusted.

“It’s not fake. It’s gas.” She returned and sat beside him again, tucking one foot under her so she was at an angle facing him. “You’re a firefighter. You should know that’s real fire.”

He grinned. “You know what I meant. I much prefer a wood-burning fireplace.”

“This is nice. And obviously much more practical for a hotel. Safer too, I would think.” She gave him a look from beneath her eyelashes, and he laughed.

“Yeah. Safer.”

He started clicking through channels on the television. “Maybe we can watch a movie,” he said. “No chick flicks about weddings, though.”

“Darn. That is
so
what I want to watch right now.”

He slanted her an amused glance as he channel surfed.

“You’re clicking too fast,” she complained. “How can you even tell what the show is when you go that fast?”

“I can tell,” he said. “I’m a guy. It’s how we roll.”

She relaxed a little into the cushions, smiling. The champagne was delicious and cold and had her blood warming in her veins a little.

“
Austin Powers
,” he said, pausing. “Yeah baby. That’s what we need. Something funny.”

“Oh Jeebus Crust.”

She’d always laughingly disapproved of
Austin Powers
, and he probably thought that’s why she complained, but really she cursed because of the memories it brought back. They’d watched all the
Austin Powers
movies together. She’d loved to tease him about watching something so lowbrow, pretending she was above that, and yet she’d sat there with him and laughed along with him at all the ridiculous penis and bodily function jokes. Then she’d teased him because he’d watched the movies so many times, he knew what line came next at any given moment.

“
The Spy Who Shagged Me
,” she murmured.

He held out a fist. “Good job, Dev,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” She grinned and made a fist and bumped his knuckles with hers. Shaking her head, she dragged her gaze away from Josh’s handsome face to look at the big television. She closed her eyes briefly at the emotion that washed over her, a sense of familiarity, of comfort, a rush of warm affection. God. Her heart banged in her chest, and she focused on breathing to slow it down, pretending to watch the movie while her thoughts and emotions rampaged inside her.

He probably didn’t expect to be spending his wedding night watching
Austin Powers
.

But she kept that thought to herself, sipping champagne and trying not to cry, until the movie eventually did make her laugh out loud.

Josh glanced at her with a sly smile. “See. You do think it’s funny.”

They’d had this discussion many times, always with good-natured teasing, often ending with him grabbing her and wrestling her down until she admitted that stupid movies made her laugh, and then he’d kiss her and…

Heat swept from her chest up to her hairline.

“It’s ridiculous,” she said, tossing her hair back, but she couldn’t help but smile.

“I know,” he agreed, settling deeper into the cushions. “That’s why I like it.”

She reached for the bottle and topped up their glasses. After a second glass of champagne, the movie was even funnier, Josh was even cuter, and the whole wedding-interrupted thing seemed like a pesky annoyance. Champagne was good.

When that move ended,
Goldmember
began. “It’s an
Austin Powers
marathon,” she said with a giggle.

“Lucky us.” Then Josh let out a huge belch.

She stared at him in mock horror.

“Excuse me,” he said, grinning. “It’s the bubbly.”

“That was very rude,” she said primly. She turned her attention back to the TV. It only took her a few seconds to work up an almost equally impressive burp.

“Good one,” Josh said, still grinning.

And she burst into giggles, her head falling back into the couch cushions, tension easing out of her body. Ah god. Laughing was so good.

They watched the next movie too, and somehow she was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Josh, leaning into him when she laughed at the jokes, and then he looked down at her and met her eyes. Awareness of his big muscles made her tingle everywhere, and the air around them suddenly seemed electric. His smile faded, and they stared at each other as moments accumulated and her insides grew heavy and achy. She was close enough to see the whiskers starting to shade his jaw, his long eyelashes, the tiny mole in front of his left sideburn that she remembered so well. She tried to breathe but her lungs were constricted.

Tempting. So tempting, to reach out and touch his face. To kiss his mouth and see if it felt the same, to see if he tasted as good, if he was still the best kisser she’d ever been with. To give in to the emotion welling up inside her, the lust and need and yearning. She’d missed him so much. Maybe he’d missed her a little too…

No. He’d been going to get married. To Allie.

It took everything she had to drag her gaze away from him and look back at the television, trying to shift a little away from him so they weren’t touching, without being obvious about it.

And once more her awareness was all on the man beside her and not the movie, the jokes going unnoticed as she valiantly fought the attraction that tugged at her, the intense, physical need for him. Jeebus.

By the end of the movie, the champagne bottle was empty and upside down in the ice bucket. Her eyes were getting heavy, and she had to keep herself from resting her head on his shoulder and giving in to the urge to sleep.

“Hey,” he said, nudging her, and she jumped. The movie was over. “Tired?”

“Um. Yeah.” She blinked. “I better go to bed.”

“Yeah. Come on.” He held out a hand and pulled her up off the couch. “I wonder if this bed is made up.” He yanked off the cushions, then frowned. “Hell. I thought this was a sofa bed.”

“It’s not?” She peered down blearily. “Nope. It’s not.”

“Ah well. I’ll just grab a pillow from the bed in the other room. Hopefully there’s an extra blanket around somewhere.”

“You’re going to sleep on that couch?” She eyed it doubtfully. “It’s way too short for you. I’ll sleep there, Josh. I’m shorter than you.”

“No. You take the bed.”

She sighed. This was where she was supposed to offer to share the bed. It was king size, room for both of them. They could easily sleep there without ever touching. She’d read so many romance novels where this happened, but in romance novels, sharing that bed always led to sex. And the way she’d been feeling earlier, she didn’t have much faith in her own abilities to resist him if they climbed into that bed together, no matter how much space was between them.

“Fine,” she said, ignoring the guilt that bumped inside her at the uncomfortable sleep he was going to have. Not her problem. She’d have that king-size bed with the beautiful, poufy duvet all to herself.

She washed her face and changed into her pajamas in the bathroom, admiring the luxury of marble floor and counters, the huge Jacuzzi tub with separate, glassed-in shower stall, the thick towels. She emerged to see the lights out in the living room, Josh standing there in the firelight, tossing a pillow and blanket on to the couch, naked except for a pair of snug boxer briefs.

Her stomach dropped and she hesitated, her heart bumping in her chest, her girl parts giving a warm squeeze. Oh Jeebus Crust, son of Gosh. She’d seen him naked many, many times, but holy hell, he was beautiful in the lamplight streaming through the bedroom doors. His shoulders were wide, his upper arms thick with rounded muscles, his chest and abs sculpted into mouthwatering ridges. “Um. Good night,” she said.