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“I know, you were humming that one tune for weeks. I had to ask Karen at the front desk what it was. You don’t mind the floor, do you?”
Laine stared down at him. How had she missed it?
She walked over and knelt next to him. “Not at all. What have we got here?”
Plucking up the chopsticks he delved into one of the white boxes and held his pick out to her mouth. “The first cashew, for you.”
“This must be love.”
Jason smiled, leaning back on one arm as he fished out another spicy morsel for her. “The Kung Pao is going to knock your socks off.
Chapter Three
Saturday, the nineteenth of June
Laine all but danced into the hotel lobby. Having spent her first night out of Jason’s bed since she fell into it the week before, she was giddy with excitement to see him this morning. After last night’s rehearsal, she’d met with Connie to discuss potential problems that might surface with the happy couple, and by the time they’d wrapped up it was late. So she’d gone home, alone, and spent half the night awake, frustrated and thrashing in the sheets, kicking at the cold emptiness around her. But now relief was only a penthouse away.
The wedding was going to be a breeze, and she was flying high. There was nothing to catch them up. Nothing to worry about.
Laine had kept a watchful eye on the groom, and not once had he even looked at another woman. He barely looked at her, even when she asked him direct questions. She was hoping for another Saturday of smooth-sailing wedding bliss and another night in Jason’s arms and bed. She’d worn the new, shimmering blue dress he’d sent her as a gift to replace the one saturated in the four-tiers of twice-abandoned cake from two weeks ago, and it was going to take all of her restraint not to beg him to tear it off her.
Her plan was to steal a few hours this morning with him before both of their days kicked into high gear. Maybe offer him a little preview of the night to come by showing off the bra and panty set that matched her dress exactly. Ask for his expert opinion on the ease of getti
ng her out of them.
Unable to help herself, she rushed up to the concierge desk and bounced on her toes. “Hi Jackie, looking lovely this morning. I’m here for Jason.”
Jackie flashed a winning smile and nodded quickly. “Sure, Ms. Malone, he left instructions that you head straight up to the residence. Elevator One will take you direct, and I’ll call to let him know you’re on your way.”
“Thank you.” She had to stop smiling like this. Anyone who saw her was bound to read each and every emotion flitting through her head. Her business smile, the bride smile, was warm and reassuring, but only surface deep. It showed what she wanted it to, and nothing more. These days though, she had complete strangers beaming back at her like her grin made their day. It was downright embarrassing. She was out of control… and it felt incredible.
Inside the elevator, the doors swished shut and the display flashed to “Private car.” She had the perfect greeting in mind, but she had to move fast.
—
The elevator doors opened, and all conscious thought abandoned Jason’s head.
Draped provocatively against the rail of the car, Laine wore nothing but a bra, panties and her matching sapphire blue, strapped heels. With one foot propped against the rail, the other planted firmly on the floor, she was one enticing invitation.
Her eyes flashed mischief from beneath lowered lids as her fingers played at the waist of her tiny panties. “I’ve been thinking about you all night long.”
A deep groan rumbled from somewhere near Jason’s stopped heart. He wanted nothing more than to step into the car, sink to his knees in front of her, and set his mouth to giving her something she’d never forget. But he knew he couldn’t.
“Laine, you take my breath away.” He stepped into the elevator, stripped off his blazer, and wrapped it around her shoulders. “But I’ve got to talk to you about something first.”
The wanton look disappeared, and she transformed into the controlled creature he so often saw handling nuptial emergencies. “What?” she asked, braced for anything.
God, he didn’t want to tell her. Pulling the lapels of his jacket closed across her chest with one hand, he rested the other against her arm.
“It’s the groom.”
“What? He’s nervous, he’s missing, he’s got cold feet… I can handle anything short of him being dead. Oh my God, he isn’t dead?”
“No, nothing like that—”
“Okay then,” she said with a faltering smile. “He’s getting married today, I’ll make it work. There isn’t another woman, I know—”
“He’s gay.”
