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"Well, let's go find out about that cake you've gotten for me."
Back in his office, Jason hunched over the expansive desk and connected the line on speaker. “Okay, let's have it."
"Jay, I'm coming up empty so far."
Not what he needed to hear. He wanted to be the man who made Laine's dreams come true, not the schmuck who couldn't get a freaking cake delivered. Thrusting his fingers into his hair, he closed his eyes, straining for patience. “There are literally hundreds of weddings sc
heduled to take place in this city alone today. Somewhere, some girl, wrapped up in her favorite terrycloth bathrobe and wearing a two-hundred-dollar veil, is sitting at home, crying her eyes out because the groom-to-be forgot his future father-in-law was there when he got a blowjob at the bachelor party the night before. Someone doesn't need a cake."
The voice across the line was tight. “I'll keep looking."
"Whatever it takes, just get it over here.” Disconnecting, he planted both hands on his desk and looked up at Laine as she leaned against the doorframe to his office, rubbing one delicate foot while he struggled to make good on his promise.
She cocked her head to the side, a cascade of shiny chestnut hair falling over her shoulders. “Well, that certainly is a romantic way to look at it."
"Save the indignation. You and I both know I'm right.” He didn't like the sound of his voice. He was thinking about that guy, Max. The way his lips grazed her cheek. The echo of their words.
"Think about it..."
"I will..."
"How about your groom today? I saw you dodge the elevator ride with him, but the wedding's still on, so I'm assuming this one didn't try any games of grab-ass in the kitchen.” The words were out of his mouth before he'd found enough sense to stop them.
Shit. He was being a prick because he was jealous. Bringing up the almost-wedding from three weeks ago, where the groom had gotten grabby with Laine, was a blow below the belt. Something totally out of line that he knew would upset her.
If he could kick his own ass he would.
"Oh, right. You saw that. So nice of you, by the way, to intervene on my behalf. That dickhead had me pinned against the room-service cart."
Jason's jaw clenched at the memory. He'd walked around the corner an instant before Laine's knee rocketed through the hip-high split in her gown and into the groom's thigh. The man had gone down into a writhing ball, clutching his leg and screaming in pain. Laine wasn't in any danger, but she'd been livid. And Jason hadn't trusted himself to approach them.
The possessive rage that overcame him in that split second had every cell in his body calling for blood. The groom got off lucky with the girly dead-leg assault. Another second of unwelcome contact and Jason would have been on him ... and the damage he'd have inflicted wouldn't have left the bastard able hobble out of the hotel.
When the staff had rushed to her aid, Jason backed away, trying to get past the veil of red that blinded him to the idea of anything but punishment.
"By the time I came in, it was done.” Talk about a limp apology.
He'd been a jackass to bring it up. But now that he had, there was something he'd been wondering about. Trying to get back to a cavalier tone, he went fishing. “The bride's mother walking in then was perfect timing. Took the pressure off you to do anything about it."
Laine fixed him with a hard stare, but he couldn't stop.
"Connie has a strict policy of one freebie for grab-ass grooms, but this guy was serious. Would you have told the bride if her mother hadn't been there?"
Laine rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “Connie almost fired me for not heading the mother off, but I wasn't even going to try. I'm glad that girl found out what he was capable of, and on their wedding day no less. He deserved to lose her.” Her expression lost the fight she normally flaunted, and his chest tightened. “Besides, he was rough."
His fists balled at his side as he dragged the breath in through his nose. She'd been scared. She'd been scared, and three weeks later was still upset, yet he'd walked away, afraid that he would kill the man who'd threatened her. He should have. “I'm sorry, Laine."
She hadn't exactly said that she would have told the bride, but it was close enough. Laine would have done the right thing if it had been left to her. He could see in her eyes that she knew Connie was wrong in her policies.
Hell, he knew her. He shouldn't have even had to ask.
"Don't be sorry.” Her pouty mouth twisted up to the side, and the unflappable façade returned with a dismissive humph. She didn't like to look vulnerable. She rarely let him see what she was really thinking for more than a moment at a time, but when her guard was down ... he lost all resolve to stay unattached and indifferent. When Laine showed the woman beneath the flawless veneer, he wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and never let her go. When her guard returned, flying up to fend off his probing questions, and she offered him her most adversarial stare, he wanted nothing more than to get her underneath him, penetrate that false shell and touch the parts of her she couldn't disguise. Either way, she had more control over him than he liked any woman to have.
"It was a lesson in prevention,” she continued, shaking her head. “I need to be more aggressive about keeping potential problem grooms reined in. No opportunities on my watch. Day-of cancellations kill reputations, and Connie can't have that."
Jason curled his lip. “Wow, Laine, you really are full-service. Peddling that kind of romance every weekend, it's no wonder you've got a waitlist of brides clamoring after you."
Laine's glare shot to him. “Bite me, Jason."
