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Earlier, after Natalie had sent him out for coffee and food—clearly ready and willing to take advantage of every opportunity to boss him around—they’d hit the road. Two miles into the drive, while he was busy daydreaming about the take-no-prisoners gleam he’d witnessed in her eyes when she’d ordered him to handle the checkout, she’d started debating the merits of different favors for the tea. He’d tried to wrap his mind around the idea of a bachelorette party in Vegas that involved fine china and civilized conversation instead of strippers. And sometime after that, he’d slipped into a combat nap.
“Chocolate body paint,” she said, her voice ringing with triumph. “Nothing else combines my sister’s favorite things—chocolate, art, and well, now Cade.”
And oh sweet Jesus, why had he fallen asleep? Had he missed an entire speech on the pros and cons of edible sex toys? Because damn, that was one conversation he wanted to have—with her.
“If I can find it. I should have time to shop after the poolside meet and greet,” she said, changing lanes and exiting the highway toward Sin City’s infamous Strip. “Now tell me about your plan to get Mufasa into the hotel.”
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sp; “We’re going to fast rope down to the helicopter pad on the roof. I don’t want to risk landing the bird. And I think your pup can handle it. Right, boy?”
Jack glanced at the backseat. Mufasa lifted his head off his paws and let out a bark.
“Jack,” she said. “I’m serious.”
“So am I. I’ll make it happen,” he said. “I promise. Now tell me more about the body paint.”
Natalie scanned the Greek god inspired pools. Columns, fountains—the setting for her sister’s wedding weekend meet and greet was like the adult Disney version of antiquity. A long, narrow pool ran through the center of the space. Smaller, circular pools stood at each end and featured an enormous fountain in the middle.
She studied every statue as she walked by on her way to the cabana reserved for her sister’s party. Dionysus. Dionysus. And oh look, another statue of the drunken party god. There were almost as many replicas of the Greek god as there were bars.
She paused on the other side of the narrow, central pool from the cabana and watched the other guests talking. She spotted Lucia in a black one-piece suit. The 1950s style complemented her sister’s curves. Two women—a tall, willowy blonde and a plump brunette—chatted with her. Lucia’s coworkers from the hospital. Natalie had met them once but had already forgotten their names. She’d have to ask before the bachelorette tea party.
How did I end up here, the maid of honor in Lucia’s Vegas wedding to my best friend?
She’d been looking out for her little sister for as long as she could remember. When their parents had died, she’d shouldered her grief and Lucia’s. She’d tried to look out for her sister when Lucia announced her plan to pick up a man in Vegas for one wild night. Natalie had sent Cade. And now she was here, ready and willing to celebrate the beginning of her sister’s happily ever after.
But the closest I will ever get to a fairy tale ending is a dirty-talking SEAL on the other side of the bathroom door.
Jealousy threatened, but she pushed it away. Lucia deserved a happy ending after everything she had suffered. Still, she couldn’t escape the hollow loneliness that bubbled up in sharp contrast to Lucia’s bride-to-be glow. Just like she couldn’t ignore the fact that for a fleeting moment last night she’d felt connected to someone too—the man on the other side of the bathroom door.
She shoved that thought aside and focused on why she’d endured the disastrous road trip in the first place.
“I can do this. I can be a damn good maid of honor,” she whispered as she stared at the fountains and ran through her mental wedding weekend checklist.
1) Buy chocolate body paint
2) Wear the world’s ugliest pink dress while my best friend marries my sister
3) Have sex
Before last night, the third item on her to-do list would have ranked below take on extra shifts at the bar and go to the dentist. But the fact that she’d experienced her first orgasm in mixed company since—crap, she couldn’t remember the last nameless face from sixteen months ago. Whoever Mr. Last Time was, he couldn’t compete with listening to Jack describe a fantasy. Not Jack’s touch. Or his cock—
Across the pool, by the columns leading to the cabana, Jack turned away from Cade and Ronan. He looked right at her and smiled. She was tempted to smile back. Instead, she bit her lip and offered a scowl. He raised an eyebrow. His handsome features, perfect for this godlike setting, seemingly lit with amusement.
This man…
He could make her laugh, make her cry out with pleasure, make her crazy—and he could destroy her controlled life.
And he turned her on. That’s why “have sex”—with someone other than Jack—had moved up her to-do list. She needed to find someone else to drive her wild for a few hours and erase the physical need. And it wouldn’t be Jack. She wanted a man she could control, who wouldn’t lead her straight to wild and passionate. A man she could add to the relatively short list of Mr. Last Times and then forget about in the morning.
If she’d learned anything from their impromptu stay at the motel, it was that Jack Barnes was not that man. She’d been fighting to escape the memory of what they’d done, how he’d made her feel as she’d sat on the bathroom floor screaming his name—connected, wanted, desired. Dammit, she’d felt closer to him than the last man she’d slept with and quickly forgotten. And Jack had inspired that connection despite them coming on different sides of the bathroom door.
Lucia stopped by her side, having left her coworkers chatting with a man Natalie didn’t recognize. “Most women smile, maybe drool a little, when they see a team of shirtless SEALs by a Vegas pool.” Her little sister shoved a drink into her hand.
“I know,” Natalie said and accepted the beer. Lucia had to know Natalie would hate the fruity umbrella drink her sister had designated her “signature cocktail” for the long weekend. “I’ve seen it happen.”
Back in Coronado, Natalie had on occasion visited the beach with Cade. She’d grown accustomed to the wide-eyed stares. A hard-bodied Navy SEAL in board shorts, his muscular chest tanned to perfection, drew longing looks, especially from the bikini-clad population. And sometimes Jack tagged along. She’d seen him without a shirt, his suit riding low on his hips. But she’d never wondered about the hard length hiding behind his shorts.
