Picture Perfect Wedding (7 page)

“I’m not a bride.”

“So be the groom.”

He wasn’t planning on being either of those things. “Use Mac to stand in for the bride.” He deliberately palmed his forehead. “Oh, sorry, that won’t work, he’s not batshit crazy.”

Erin shook her head emphatically. “Connie isn’t crazy either. She just knows what she wants, which in a lot of ways is easier than a bride who constantly changes her mind.”

Luke wasn’t convinced about the crazy part.

“This is going to be the most fabulous setting when the flowers open and the photos will be stunning.” She threw her arms out and spun around, her face filling with a dreamy look.

A heavy feeling dragged at Luke, as if he was missing something.

The spinning stopped abruptly as her feet stilled and the dreamy look vanished. She hit him with an intense stare. “The flowers
will
open in time, right?”

He rocked back on his boots, surveying the bulging heads that were so very close to opening. “They should, unless we get an unexpected cold snap or a hail storm that decimates the entire field.”

She blanched, her features looking stark and pinched. “Is that likely to happen?”

He shrugged. “In farming, anything can happen. In a lot of ways it’s an inexact science because there’s only so much you can control.”

Her whole body jerked as if she’d just been shocked.

“The weather
must
be perfect because this shoot has to work.”

Her reaction and forceful tone surprised him because as a photographer she must be used to dealing with brides and inclement weather. “If it’s a complete disaster there are other places you can use for your difficult bride, like the covered bridge and Mrs. Norell’s garden.” He rubbed his neck. “Although if hail flattens this, it’ll probably take out those gardens too.”

“And that’s you trying to reassure me?” She shook her head slowly as if she couldn’t quite believe her ears. “For a moment there, I’d forgotten farmers are pessimists.”

“Hey!” He took offense at being cast as a naysayer. “I’m not being negative. I’m just being a realist. You asked would the field flower on time, and I gave you the facts.”

“The facts...” She stared at him for a long, contemplative moment. “You’re a guy so of course you gave me all the facts because facts are important.”

“Damn straight, they are.”

Her face creased in a genuine smile. “My brother’s always giving me the facts. Sorry, it’s just this shoot is really important to me.”

Me?
He raised a brow. “Isn’t it supposed to be important to the bride?”

“Yes. I meant the bride.” She sounded defensive and her body seemed to bustle with exaggerated movement as her hands tied the leash around a fence post. “So, is your dog going to play nice with Maggie-May while we do this?”

He got the distinct impression she wanted to change the subject. “Mac will stand with me.”

“Great. I need you both to stand—” her fingers closed around his forearm and she tugged him into the middle of the dirt strip that ran down the center of the field, “—here. Now if you can just turn around...”

Her hands were suddenly on his shoulder, her fingers pressing firmly into the bare skin at the tops of his arms. There was nothing gentle or tentative about the touch—it was all business—a photographer used to putting her hands on people to position them exactly where they were needed for the shot. Only it was making him think Swedish massage, hot oil, naked skin and her hands pummeling every part of him.

When she finally stepped back from him and he was left alone facing down the field with his back to her, he gave up a silent thank-you. At least the time it took her to take the photos would give him a few moments to get his body back under control and give his erection time to deflate.

He heard the sounds of the camera behind him and grabbed on to an innocuous topic to help the process along. “I’ve never understood why digital cameras make shutter sounds?”

“This one’s a top-end SLR and it’s got both an electronic and a mechanical shutter. It means a sharper picture. Even if it only had an electronic one, I’d have the shutter sound turned on for my clients because when they hear the click, they know I’ve taken the photo. Can you walk over to the sunflowers, please?”

He did and Mac followed him. Maggie-May bounced on her leash, yapping, as if saying to Mac,
It’s so not fair you’re walking free.
This time Erin wanted Luke to face the camera and he crossed his arms, feeling uncomfortable. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just stand.” She squatted down and angled her camera.

He found himself studying the way her hair fell from her part, which ran perfectly straight until the last quarter where it snaked crookedly. It was at odds with the neat bob that fell effortlessly in a shining waterfall of hair. He instantly remembered the silky feel of it against his chin when she’d fallen on top of him and the delectable scent of fresh fruit.

Don’t go there
,
buddy.

It was too late.

The memory made way for the one he’d tried to forget—the one where her body had wriggled against his, sending her heat scudding through him and making his blood pound hard and fast. Sweat broke out on his top lip as he tried to keep his blood supply north of his groin. Frantic for a distraction, he looked up at the sky and was instantly mocked. There wasn’t a cloud in sight to watch or wonder about.

One twelve is twelve
,
two twelves are twenty-four
,
three twelves
—

“Actually, Luke, you’re taller than the groom. Can you bend your knees?”

He wanted out before she noticed he was hornier than a teenager watching porn. “I can hear the cows getting angsty.”

“Five more minutes. Please.”

She flashed him a quick “all business” appreciative smile, and despite the assault of color from her clothes, the slightly ditzy and chaos-causing woman he’d first met was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the overly polite or the pointedly snarky one. Instead he was faced with focused professionalism and gratitude.

Shit.
It meant he really couldn’t walk away without looking like he was a grumpy and difficult farmer.

Why worry?
Two nights ago you wanted her to think exactly that.

For some unfathomable reason it now bothered him and that ticked him off. He found himself missing the general animosity that usually swirled between them. That he understood and it had kept him from acting on the fact his body wanted her. With a sigh, he bent down. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You’re really helping. You probably could have been a model if you hadn’t gone into farming.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right.” He’d been raised on a farm and was a country boy through and through. He had no time for fripperies and false images. He fingered the soil as he often did, but the excitement he usually got from feeling the perfect mix of moisture and organic matter didn’t come.

The camera clicked rapidly. “Can you walk into the actual field and then do a peekaboo from behind the stalks?”

He rose to his feet. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No.” She looked taken aback and came and stood next to him. “I want to see if the shot will work or if the shadows are too long.”

The request hit the limit of his patience. Everything he believed about being a man was suddenly at stake. “Not even a whipped groom is going to pop out from behind sunflower stalks.”

Her chestnut brows quirked knowingly. “Believe me, a groom will do pretty much anything his bride asks, especially if she’s invoked the ‘no sex’ rule for the previous seven days.”

Her lush lips had formed a perfect red O when she said “no,” and when it combined with the smoky way her voice rolled over the word
sex
, he let his throbbing body take control. He stepped in close. The fruity scent of her hair and the crisp fresh aroma of her perfume flooded him and he looked straight into those upward-slanting eyes rimmed with thick, cocoa lashes. “A groom will do pretty much anything the bride wants, you say?”

Her eyes widened at his softly spoken words but she didn’t back away. “So I’ve been told.”

“Then he’s not much of a man.” He slid his hand under the bob of her hair, his fingers cupping the soft skin of her neck. Her warmth caressed his palm and her pulse bounded against it.

She shuddered at his touch, the delicious movement flowing into him like a heat-seeking missile with its target fully in its sights. He groaned and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, gently easing the damp fullness down.

For a long moment time stood still—his thumb suspended against delicious softness. Then she flicked out her tongue, its pink tip circling the pad of his thumb, around and around and around. His blood roared, shattering his pretense at restraint and he lowered his mouth to hers.

Erin shut her mind to all the reasons why kissing Luke Anderson was a hugely dumb idea. Instead she focused on the fact that he was real rather than a disembodied, sexy GPS voice, and she closed her eyes on a blissful sigh. Who knew the gorgeous to look at yet often irritable, difficult and confusing guy was a kissing god. How could that be?

But answering that question was beyond her as his mouth trailed over hers. The slight scratch of his work-hardened hands was as rough as he got. There was no saliva-loaded attack, no tongue lashing at her teeth trying to gain entry before being plunged down her throat. No, this kiss was soft, enticing and divine—a slow exploration of her lips as if they were some precious parcel to be unwrapped slowly and carefully, layer upon layer upon layer.

Her arm lost strength and dropped to her side, her grip on her camera barely holding, and she leaned into him. Pliant and sighing against his mouth, she lost herself in the wonder of the moment, hoping it would never end. She could stay here all day being kissed like this, pressed up against his broad, solid chest, and still be left wanting more.

His fingers toyed with her hair, gently rubbing her scalp as his mouth moved slowly off her lips and reached her jaw. Her body turned liquid as pleasure streamed through her, slowly waking her up cell by cell and stripping her muscles and bones of their form. Her head tilted back of its own accord, giving him access to more skin, wanting more of the same, and as his mouth roamed, her body floated. It was like lying in a warm, fragrant bath surrounded by candles and listening to the lulling sounds of Vivaldi. He plied her skin with featherlight kisses as if she was fragile porcelain and any more pressure might make her shatter.

Oh
,
yes
,
please.

She gloried in it all and was just hoping that he’d start nuzzling her neck, especially the dip at the base, when he reached her earlobe. He kissed it tenderly. She sighed again.

He nipped it with his teeth and sucked it.

Her eyes flew open as her blood burst into flames. Delicious lethargy vanished. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to feel him inside her. She needed his tongue to plunder her mouth, to brand her with his heat, and she wanted to do exactly the same to him. And more. Forgetting she was holding her camera, she threw her arms around his neck and it banged him on the bony scapula.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

“Put it down.”

“No, it’s worth a fortune.”

“Keep the damn thing still then.”

“Shut up.” Her free hand pulled his head down to hers, and she opened her mouth and invaded his.

Stars exploded in the back of Luke’s head. Erin tasted of vanilla coffee, mint, and a hot and desperate need that matched his own. There was nothing delicate or tentative about her kiss. She was exploring his mouth exactly how he liked it—taking what he offered and leaving her own mark.

He felt her breasts tighten against his chest, firming into two hard balls of arousal and if he wasn’t already totally hard, he would have matched her. He slid his hand under her tank top, his fingers sliding against smooth, warm skin until they met the clasp of her bra. With one deft flick, the back opened.

She broke the kiss, looking up at him with a grin on her face. “You’ve done that before.”

His hand snuck around and cupped her left breast. “Once or twice. I’m pretty good.”

She half gasped, half moaned and he ached for her.

“I’m better,” she said as her free hand whipped down from his neck. A second later, she was gently cupping his testicles through his jeans.

Game on.
He stroked her nipple.

She shuddered, hooked his gaze and stroked him, her fingers gently sliding over the bulge of his erection.

He shuddered.

They matched stroke for stroke, gasp for gasp, and moan for moan until she fell against him and he lifted her off her feet, not caring that the damn camera was now digging into his back. All he knew was that he had to feel her legs wrapped around him and the pressure of her body pressed hard against him.

The yapping sounds of her dog floated on the air but he ignored them as he buried his mouth against those pillow-soft lips and felt them yield to him. God, she was so responsive, he could barely see straight.

Mac’s insistent bark joined the yapping and Erin’s tongue paused in its delicious assault. He flicked his tongue against hers to kick-start the kiss.

“Luu-ke.”

Erin unwrapped her legs so fast he almost lost his balance.

“Luu-ke.”

He realized someone was calling his name. “Shit.”

“Let me go!” Erin pushed at his arms which were supporting her thighs.

He half lowered her, half dropped her as some of his blood managed to reach his brain. He saw Erin fumbling with her bra. “Do you need a hand?”

She shook her head as Mac’s barks sounded closer. “Should you go meet him?”

“Mac?” He wasn’t sure he could actually walk.

“Not Mac.” She half pushed him toward the end of the row. “The guy who’s calling you.”

“Luu-ke! Mac, go find him, boy.” The booming voice sounded really close now.

What the
... Shock thundered through him so fast he swayed as lust was replaced with utter astonishment. He shoved his shirt into his jeans and with a throbbing pain in his groin, he stepped out onto the dirt road.