The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) (9 page)

“When you’re with me, Ms. Evers, you will be treated accordingly.”

There was a message in his expression—she was sure of it—but since she lacked practical experience with such things, she was stumped by what it meant.

“And as for last night,” he murmured in a deep growl, “you have my mother to thank for not being pinned to the door of your room.”

“Say what?” Pinned to the door of her room? What did that mean?

His eyes had a warm glow. She fell deeper into his gaze as he effortlessly hypnotized her with his charismatic magnetism.

“Hannah Sommerfield on the subject of how to treat a lady is a four-alarm barn burner. And Ali only makes it worse.”

“Your sister. Has she arrived? For the wedding?”

Chuckling lightly, he nodded with a serious expression. “Oh god, yes. Her and Aunt Mel are probably raising hell in the spa at this very moment. So you can thank her for why you got away from me last night without being molested.”

Sam felt her brows bump together. She was looking at him like a bug under a microscope. Was he flirting? Was that what this was?

“You look like you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, oh, no,” she stammered. “I’m sorry; it’s just that I can’t figure out when you’re teasing.”

“Why would I tease about something like that?”

She startled at his gruff tone.

“Samantha.”

A shiver raced along her spine when he said her name.

“Um, Sam. Just Sam.”

His eyes flared.

“Samantha,” he repeated with pinpoint precision. “Before we were even introduced, I saw you.”

She was frozen, unmoving and barely able to breathe. What was he saying?

“That second when your hand slid into mine, I wanted to strip you naked and push you onto a lounger.”

Sam gasped and stammered at his provocative words. “You, you did?”

“Fuck, yeah.” His muttered answer sounded raw with frustration. “You made it off the beach in one piece despite the temptation to have my wicked way with you under the moon—down by the water’s edge.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

His expression gentled. “Yes, Samantha. You.” He shifted in his seat and looked around. When his eyes met hers again, she couldn’t look away.

“At the door to your room? When I walked you back last night.”

She nodded, remembering the moment.

“I wanted to shove you against the wall, push my leg between your pretty thighs, and make you ride it while my tongue explored your sweet mouth.”

Her mouth was moving, but no words came out. She saw his hand, the one with the watch and leather band, move to the center of the table, palm up. His fingers moved twice. He was asking for her hand.

A warm morning breeze blew hair into Sam’s face and made a slender curl flutter across her neck. Out of habit, she reached for the long tangles, gathered them behind her head and twirled the mane into one long tendril. Usually, the trick worked to keep it all in one place, for a couple of minutes at least.

His hand waited. She looked at it after finishing with her hair. It felt. . .well, it felt like a command, and the thought made her heart pound.

Completely unsure of herself, she answered his call. Her arm extended in a jerky straight-line like a car running out of gas, and when her hand touched his palm, she could see her fingers shaking.

“You fascinate me, Samantha Evers.”

“Sam,” she croaked from sheer reflex.

H
ow could this girl not know how interesting she was? Ryan found her complete lack of game to be refreshing and equally as beguiling. In his mind, the rules changed the minute he saw her for who she was. The golden stunner with the clueless style who flirted without design was a rare find. This time-out-of-place encounter was an once-in-a-lifetime blessing.

Turning her small hand over so his was in the dominant position, his eyes drifted the length of her arm, taking in the underside’s paler skin. Wanting to lick every centimeter of her creamy skin, his mouth and tongue tingled in anticipation. He knew without debate that she’d be soft and taste sweet.

He thought it cute how she kept trying to make him call her Sam. The stammering, hesitant insistence did things to his groin he wasn’t sure were appropriate in this situation. Sam was an endearment, not a nickname. Something used in private. Not out in the world.

“Samantha,” he growled playfully.

A soft pink glow highlighted her suntanned cheeks. The colors made her eyes seem brighter than usual.

“You are a rare gem in a world of tacky glitter.”

She almost snickered. Almost.

And he almost rolled his eyes at how greeting card-ish that sounded.

“Now, see.” Ryan chuckled softly. It couldn’t be helped. “Right here is exactly why. I’m trying to be all serious and whatnot but you? You’re at a comedy show.”

Serious moment be damned. She giggled despite chomping on her lips. “Aw, come on,” she quipped. “You have to admit that was pretty cheesy.”

“Rare gem in a world of tacky glitter is cheesy?” He made sure there was a double helping of mock outrage in his retort. “I beg your pardon, madam, but I do believe that in certain circles that particular bumper sticker would score a perfect ten.”

She leaned on her elbows and added her hand to his creating a tangle of fingers and palms.

“Eight, maybe an eight-point-five, but that’s the best I can do, Mr. Charming.”

“Ah! Mr. Charming, is it? Why thank you very much. You’ve earned some bonus cheese.”

She smirked. He wanted to pin her to the table.

“Go ahead, then.” Her sigh of indulgence sent his libido soaring.

“A guy could waste a lifetime waiting for a girl like you.”

She squinted and stared at him real hard. “Are you messing with me?”

“No. And that would be the point. I can guarantee you, Ms. Evers, that nowhere in my world of experience have I ever encountered anyone like you.”

“Is that a. . .good thing?” she asked quietly.

Ryan smiled indulgently. Was it a good thing? Sheesh.

“You’re embarrassed when you think you’ve said the wrong thing. You’re a loyal friend. When faced with it, you had no problem insulting what I do.”

She gasped, shook her head in denial, and tried to pull away. He just chuckled some more.

“You know damn well you did, which is why I spent two hours locating this delightful vacation outfit. No one besides my mother has ever had the balls to ask if I get high.” Plowing on, he just kept going with a bullet list of their previous encounters. “And you took a noogie like a pro. I don’t do wedding guest sex was a nice touch, by the way.”

The pink blush went full rose.

“Now, I’m not stupid. We each chose our outfits carefully for this meeting.”

He eyed her critically and gave her a wink. “Boutique, I’m guessing. Right?”

“Andi,” she groaned.

“All that taken into consideration, why wouldn’t I be fascinated?”

Ryan played with her hands and stroked her fingers in silence.

“But I do have one question. I’m a pretty good judge of people, but you threw me a curve with the triskele comment. Not that I’m complaining.” He shrugged and smirked. “To each his own—but that seems like odd knowledge for you.”

Samantha laughed merrily and squeezed his hands. “You, sir, are underestimating the street knowledge a girl can pick up in a town like Hollywood.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” He knew his reaction was harsh and fierce, but he couldn’t help it. Even the slightest suggestion that the delightful fresh-faced woman across from him was dabbling in such things in a place known almost exclusively for excess and debauchery made his blood boil.

“Chill, okay? Let me explain. I handle the scheduling for a craft services business. We regularly juggle multiple clients. Film, TV, video. More times than I can count over the last two years, the rather serious BDSM community in L.A. consulted on or were the balls-out subject of a project. They insist on themselves, by the way.”

His expression mirrored his confusion.

Her tone was hushed and low when she explained. “I just mean they take their stuff seriously. It’s no entertainment joke to them.” Beaming as if she’d won the Olympic floor dance competition, she proudly declared, “I learned how to tie some pretty cool knots along the way. And don’t get me started on the sheer number of leather stores in L.A.”

He saw her eyes dip to his wrist. Took him a good few seconds to get the message. She liked leather and probably didn’t even know it. This kept getting better minute by minute. A girly girl who got off on a testosterone vibe. The fucking universe better not be clowning him.

Their damn waitress was making her way to the table. Shit. The conversation was just getting good. He had one chance to drop something meaningful into the space between them. Something she’d think about all day. He went with comical and from her amused snort knew his instinct was right.

“Shit, Samantha. Leather? Really?” He released her hands and sat back. “Now where the hell am I supposed to find a leather getup on Maui before tonight?”

The sound of her sweet laughter filled the air around them. He was sure she had a comeback but didn’t get a chance to set it free as their breakfast arrived and their conversation ended.

Samantha was three pieces of bacon in when she reached for her phone and started tapping.

“Got notes to share,” she mumbled as she chewed. “Or did you get an email from the event planner?”

“If I did, it got ignored or went to the trash can.”

“Great! So you’re going to be no help at all? Some BM you turned out to be.”

The best man abbreviation would never
not
sound hilarious coming out of her mouth.

Practically inhaling an omelet the size of his ass, Ryan enjoyed the relaxed air between them. He honestly couldn’t remember if any woman he’d ever dated actually chewed her food during a shared meal or just carefully rearranged it on the plate. Samantha had clearly never received the
starve at all cost
memo.

Another reason he liked being around her.

Shoveling a forkful into his mouth, he chewed and wiped the napkin across his lips before saying anything.

“Hey, lady. I’m your man. Your best man and don’t forget it. Whatever you need, just tell me.”

She rewarded this answer with a beaming smile.

“I need you to get the groomsmen in hand and make sure none of them wander off the reservation.”

“They’ve all got wives to handle that part.”

“For real? They’re all married?”

“Yes, ma’am. Kyle and I are the last bachelors in the bunch.”

“Okay, then”—she snickered softly—“so that makes things easy. I’ll start a chat with the wives and keep them in the loop. Looks like you’re all meeting at the clubhouse at nine. Prepare to be wowed. We toured the Poipu Bay Golf Course last week. The scenery sucks.” Amusement tinged her laugh and shone brightly in her eyes.

“When’s the bachelor party?”

“There isn’t one. Now, pay attention,” she burbled with smug delight. “Kyle’s on lockdown at the golf course. One round and that’s it. Understand?”

“You’re a bossy little thing, huh?”

With a cocked brow, she drawled, “You have no idea.”

“Okay. Got it. Clubhouse at nine and only one round. What’s after that?”

“Mmm. Looks like lunch on your own. Then in the afternoon, the ladies are off for a final fitting and a mini-spa appointment. The gentlemen,” she said with a comical head nod, “are booked for a boat tour. Not quite a booze cruise, but close.”

“Is this a three-hour tour?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, it might. Have you checked the weather?”

God, it was so much fun playing with her. She took things so seriously, looking at him as if she was translating languages. He started singing and got through the whole first verse before it hit her.

His father and uncle were
Gilligan’s Island
fanatics. Both could go off on an endless rant about how clever the professor was with nothing but coconut shells and bamboo. Ryan and Kyle knew the theme song by heart.

By the time the tiny ship got tossed, she was laughing out loud and so was a couple at a nearby table.

“Feeling an
S.S. Minnow
t-shirt coming on.”

She laughed even more at his cheesy comment. “I think you’ll be fine. Better be because I’m counting on you to keep the adults under control later when it’s just family.”

“Is tonight a rehearsal dinner?”

“No actual rehearsal, I’m afraid. But there is a video for the wedding party to watch. I suppose, in a way that, yeah—tonight is the rehearsal dinner.”

“So tomorrow night is the bachelor party?” Needling her was a shit ton of fun.

Slapping her phone onto the table, she sat back with a huff and crossed her arms. Ha! All that managed to do was lift her tits up in that ridiculously skimpy triangle of fabric masquerading as a top—and he was totally fine with that.

“What part of no bachelor party don’t you understand? I mean, you’ve met Andrea before, right? If Kyle gets a raunchy dick party in his honor, believe me, Ryan, she’d counterpunch with a ladies’ bacchanal that would go down in the record books. Best not to tempt fate.”