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Still, she couldn't help but fantasize about a bit of relief for the many sleepless nights spent with the image of Jason's well-formed body—broad shoulders, trim hips, strong legs and arms—occupying her mind, teasing her body into a frustrated state of arousal. He was confident, intense, driven. And sexy. He was a man comfortable in his own skin, confident in the space he occupied. When he put his hand on her—for nothing more than pulling her out of the way of a falling cake, or to pick a bit of birdseed from her hair—every nerve in her body seemed to sensitize, polarize, and migrate toward the point of his touch.
Closing her eyes, she willed the images of Jason from her mind. With a deep breath she walked out of his office. There was a bride to contend with.
Of course willing Jason from her consciousness only went so far when the man had an exasperating knack for being everywhere Laine went. Two steps into the lobby and she caught sight of him leaning against the front desk with his favorite go-to bell boy, no doubt trying to score a cake through Dil's connections. He might have been talking to Dil, but when his drifting gaze landed on her, it fixed, hardening into a steady stare that followed her as she crossed the marble lobby floor and had her skin flaming red by the time she reached the elevator doors. Ack, he'd done it again.
What was he thinking, staring at her like that?
God, she wanted to steal a glance over her shoulder, find out if he was still watching her. Biting her lip, she started to turn—
"Well, hello, wedding planner,” came the slow, slightly nasal voice belonging to her groom. No more coy and cutsie flirtations with Jason; it was time to get her head back in the game.
Laine took a step back and offered up a platinum smile as she scanned the length of him, checking off the details. Hair, styled. Tux, clean and wrinkle free. Shoes, shined. Eyes ... glassy. Not good. “Ed, looking very sharp."
"Glad you approve, lovely Laine."
She stiffened, but flashed a wink to show she recognized what a charmer he was. “Melinda is never going to forget today. Say, have you got a bit of Visine up in your suite? Looks like you might have gotten something in your eye.” Something like weed, maybe.
Shrugging, he gave her an accommodating smile that lingered just a second too long. “Sure, I've got something. We'll ride up together."
"No, you go on ahead,” she offered, already stepping away from the elevator. “I've got to grab something down here and then I'll head up to talk with Melinda.” It was probably just the pot, slowing his reactions, or maybe nothing at all. Still, Laine didn't want to ride anywhere with this one. There was something about him she just didn't trust. Not that she had to. She wasn't the woman about to marry him. And besides, her hesitancy to spend a second longer than necessary with him—or any of her grooms—probably had more to do with her past than theirs.
Jason watched as Laine brushed off the smarmy groom and headed for the back stairwell. His gaze tracked down the length of her body, over her long smooth legs, slim ankles and landed at the sexy, spiked heels she wore. She couldn't be thinking about walking up just to avoid that guy. His stare narrowed as he looked back at the groom stepping into the elevator car, and he realized the guy was shamelessly watching Laine's retreat.
Figuring she might appreciate a legit excuse to skip the stairs, Jason turned, intending to catch her with a bit of business—just long enough for the groom to take off.
As he opened his mouth to call her, a deep voice originating behind him resonated through the lobby. “Laine!"
Jason hung back, feigning interest in his PDA, as some young guy jogged across the open floor and greeted Laine with a kiss on the cheek.
Just out of eavesdropping distance, Jason watched through hooded eyes as the guy chatted her up.
He didn't look like a client. She wasn't giving him the pat, reassuring smile she sold to all her customers. This was something more subtle. Authentic, he realized with a slight tightening in his gut.
"Jason?” the reception clerk called over the lobby noise from her desk. “Line six is about the cake. Do you want to take it?"
Laine's head popped up, and she looked over at him. She'd want to be in on the call.
He glanced back at reception. “Tell him to hold a minute, I'll be right there."
Laine was already walking toward the exit. The guy, smiling wide, was right beside her, his head bent to hers in intimate conversation. Laine's grin spread and—oh, shit—genuine laughter spilled out.
As they passed, their voices became clear.
"You know we'd be great together.” The guy turned around and started walking backward, keeping his eye on Laine as he headed for the lobby doors. “Just think about it."
She cocked a scrutinizing smile at him and nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, Max. I will."
Jason almost choked, his fists balled at his sides. He wanted to pound this Max for making a move on Laine in his hotel.
Christ, who was he kidding? A hundred guys made moves on her, and right under his nose. It was the fact that this guy had wrenched some genuine emotion from her that set him apart and got under his skin.
Damn, damn, damn.
He'd wanted Laine for too long to let some punk come in and get the jump on him. Tamping down his frustration, he nodded as Laine walked up to him.
"Sorry about that,” she offered with a vague gesture toward the exit. “You didn't have to wait."
"No problem.” Game face. Keep the game face. Don't ask who he was, or what he wanted. You'll look like a jackass. Be cool. No problem ... Except that cool guys were never at a complete loss for words, and he couldn't think of a damn thing to say.
