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“Hey, I love Meghan,” Sean assured us. “But, come on—she’s only two months pregnant. What’s the rush?”
Kyle snickered. “You’re a lucky SOB and you know it. Meg’s a knockout and you’re marrying into a crazy-rich family. Too bad she doesn’t have a sister. But, hey, if I catch the garter, that means I’ll find my own pretty little love slave, right?” His gaze swept over me.
“Use a condom,” Sean lamented. “That’s all I’m saying, man.”
Kyle leaned in close—too close for comfort, making me flinch. I didn’t like anyone invading my personal space unless invited.
Despite being good-natured, Kyle exuded enough self-confidence to convince me he had a way with the ladies—and wasn’t the least bit hesitant to use that particular gift to his full advantage.
So my nerves jumped to attention when he gave me a suggestive look.
“I’d be your love slave,” he said in a low tone. “You can tie me to the bedposts, if you want.”
“That’s, um … not really my thing.”
“You’re not married, are you, Ari? Or otherwise spoken for? ’Cause there’s a whole night of dancing ahead of us—”
“Dude.” Sean fake-punched his best man in the arm. “She’s my wedding planner. Don’t hit on her. At. My. Wedding.”
Kyle said, “Weddings are the perfect place to meet new women, amigo. And this one’s beautiful, smart, possibly single. So why wouldn’t I find out if there’s something to pursue here?”
I suddenly felt another set of eyes on me. From behind. It was an eerie yet unmistakable feeling.
As Sean and Kyle bantered like I wasn’t standing next to them in earshot, I glanced over my shoulder. And lost my breath.
The argument faded into oblivion as my pulse echoed through me, drowning out all other sounds, thoughts, everything.
In the corner up front sat two men, paperwork sprawled across their table. One salt-and-pepper-haired, distinguished looking, older. The other dark-haired and dressed all in black—jeans, boots, and a button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal impressive forearms. Late twenties, maybe thirty. He had a very mysterious air about him, and he was staring at me.
Right at me.
His onyx hair was sexily tousled, as though he’d just rolled out of bed with a woman who’d enjoyed mussing the thick, silky-looking strands. His piercing green eyes held a hint of intrigue and a hell of a lot of don’t mess with me. Contradictory signals that sparked my interest.
His face was a chiseled masterpiece. He had strong features with a stone-set jaw, balanced brows, not too thick, not too thin, and a nose that might have been punched a time or two, given the slight bump close to the eyes, but which still managed to look specially crafted to keep harmony with all the sculpted angles. A mouth that easily drew my attention, my gaze lingering on it until I caught myself.
All in all, he was devilishly handsome. Darkly beautiful.
It struck me that I would never consider a man beautiful, thinking it would undermine his masculinity. Not so with this one. He was beautiful and virile. Downright heart-stopping.
I felt a peculiar stirring deep within me. An innate reaction to his edgy perfection.
It seemed as though the blood moved a bit slower through my veins. Thicker, warmer. Molten.
My gaze lifted, our eyes locked, and I was riveted. I still couldn’t breathe.
Something flickered in those hypnotic emerald pools of his. Something curious, like a warning to be heeded. Not menacing, but … definitely intimidating.
Unnerved and surprisingly, intensely aroused, I tore my gaze from the sexy stranger just as Grace brought my shot.
“So, bottoms up,” I said as I reached for the tequila, my voice a bit shaky from the unexpected encounter. I finally pulled in a long breath, then gave a quick toast, brevity being the order of the moment. “May the new Aldridge family be blessed with a lifetime of health and happiness.” We all touched rims and threw back the booze. Even the burn of alcohol couldn’t compete with the simmering inside me created by that heated gaze. But I had business to focus on and resisted the temptation to look over my shoulder again. “Okay, guys. Showtime.”
“Damn, you love to crack the whip,” Kyle said. “Maybe you ought to rethink your stance on bondage.” He raised a hand as though to rest it at the small of my back and escort me out. I instinctively leapt a bit too far out of his reach—and stumbled into a trio of men just coming through the door.
One of them caught me around the waist and held on tight. “Hey, hey there, pretty lady.”
Behind us, I heard the scrape on the stone floor as a chair shoved back. A powerful sense of awareness jolted me. I knew exactly who was about to intervene if anyone got too touchy-feely.
But why?
