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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. He could see in her eyes that she knew Connie was wrong in her policies. Laine would have done the right thing if it had been left to her. He knew her. He shouldn’t have even asked.
Her pouty mouth twisted up to the side, and the unflappable façade returned with her 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 real her, 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.
“Don’t be sorry. It was a lesson in prevention. 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 at Laine’s effort to sound callous. “Wow, Laine, you really are full service. Peddling that kind of romance every weekend, it’s no wonder you have a waitlist of brides clamoring after you.”
Laine’s glare shot up at him. “Bite me, Jason.”
He took one step toward her and dropped his voice. “If that’s what you like, give me the chance and I will.”
The blush that flooded her face was as priceless as the way her eyelids fluttered, and her breath sucked in. The space between them sparked with heat and anticipation. She almost looked like she was considering the offer, and blood rushed to his cock in response.
Laine looked away first, giving him the closest thing to a win over her he’d ever had. When she looked back it was all business. “Have you tried Dolce for a cake yet?”
The question took him by surprise, but he should have seen it coming. She was going to play hardball. His mouth pinched into a tight line. “No. But be my guest. The phone’s right here.”
Laine slipped her foot back into her heel and lazed across the carpet, taking a seat in the open club chair closest to the phone. She leaned forward, and for one split second, Jason thought he was going to be rewarded with the sight of her perfect breasts popping free from the top of her dress. He waited as she stretched, twisting until the full swell was nearly exposed, and his mouth watered for that last little bit of flesh, the cherry tip. God, he wanted her.
He was hot, his cock erect within his pants, his chest feeling like he’d been rock climbing instead of lounging in his office, trying to find a cake to appease this sexy little wedding imp.
Back in control, the tension she’d shown was gone. With one hand, her fingers danced over the number pad, while the other twirled the phone cord. Her hands were long and thin, elegant. She never seemed at a loss for what to do with them, and Jason couldn’t stop wondering what they would feel like on him.
“Dolce? Hi, Laine Malone from Blissful Brides… I have an emergency. Is there anything you can do to get me a cake for three hours from now—” She yanked the phone away from her ear as the clerk on the other end bellowed at her request.
Jason let out a short laugh as he watched her, wondering how much she knew about the rift with Dolce. It couldn’t be much, or she would have thrown it in his face before this. Tried to use it for leverage in one of her notorious negotiations to get each bride’s most ridiculous fantasy met.
She stared back at him with narrowed eyes and, when the bellowing ceased, pulled the phone back to her ear. “I’m at the Henley Hotel here and… hello?” she looked at the earpiece on the phone with shock, as though she thought it might explain why someone would have hung up on her.
Ha. Apparently she didn’t know enough to keep her mouth shut about the location of the wedding. Her only shot would have been to offer to pick the cake up, or meet it at the intersection two blocks down. So much for Dolce. “No dice, eh?”
Watching her incredulous expression, he wanted to laugh but tried to rein it in.
She licked her lips and slowly settled the receiver back into its cradle. “He hung up on me. I know rude. I deal with it daily. But that was exceptional.”
“They don’t do business that involves the hotel.”
“So it would seem,” she said, eyeing him carefully.
He cleared his throat and shrugged, then, keeping his tone matter-of-fact, offered a half-hearted explanation. “Dispute over a wedding a few years back.”
“That must have been some dispute.”
She wanted more answers, and he was half considering giving them to her when the partially open door slammed against the wall. Dil careened into the private office, his face red and dotted with sweat. “Jay, I’ve got a cake.”
Laine flopped back against the chair. “Dil, I love you.”
Oh sure. Dil brings her a cake and suddenly she’s in love. The guy always came through.
“Fine, fine. Dil, we owe you. Laine, go deliver your cake news.”
She was up and dancing out the door in a flash.
Jason glanced over at Dil with a smirk. “This one’s gonna cost me isn’t it?”
