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There were photographs to take next, then the drive to the church. In the vestibule Vivian and the other bridesmaids helped arrange the small train on Jodie’s dress, then Vivian tweaked the veil one last time. The doors to the church proper opened, the organ chimed the opening chords to “Here Comes the Bride,” and Vivian started down the aisle, her suddenly sweaty hands clutched around her bouquet.
She might not want this for herself, but it hit her that this was a big deal. Jodie was getting married. She was about to become someone else. Mrs. Anderson. She was about to lay the foundation stone for starting her own family.
Vivian blinked rapidly, worried she would ruin her makeup. Then her gaze found the tall figure of Seth standing at the head of the aisle, and she saw the smirk on his lips, as though he fully expected her to turn into a slobbering sentimental wreck any second. She sucked back her tears and lifted her chin. She loved her sister, but she had her dignity to consider.
The ceremony passed in a blur, the only stand-out moments in her memory being when Jason and Jodie exchanged rings, and the time when she got caught staring at Seth’s profile and had to let her gaze drift as though she’d been examining the stained glass window over his shoulder and not wondering what kind of a kisser he was. She wasn’t entirely sure he bought it, but she’d tried.
There were more photos—endless photos—after the ceremony, then they piled into the cars and drove to the Fairfield Boathouse for the reception. The food came quickly, which was just as well as Vivian was starving, having somehow forgotten to eat breakfast and lunch in all the rush. The champagne flowed freely, and before she knew it they were at the speeches part of the evening. Her father spoke well and made everyone cry, then Jason’s mother took the floor and made them laugh. Seth told droll stories and earned his brother some raised-eyebrow looks from her sister. Then it was Vivian’s turn to talk about the happy couple.
She’d never been crazy about public speaking, so she chugged down her glass of champagne before taking the mike. She’d written out her speech, and she pretty much stuck to the script as she shared how happy she was for Jason and Jodie, and how she thought they made a great couple and couldn’t wait for little Johnny and Jan and Jill to come along. Everyone seemed to think that was funny—phew—so she finished on a high note.
With the official stuff out of the way, the music started. Vivian knocked back more champagne while watching her relatives make idiots of themselves on the dance floor, then went in search of the ladies’.
Afterward, she couldn’t quite face returning to the rowdy din. Not just yet. She slipped out the front entrance onto the covered balcony that circled the Victorian building. The river was dark as night, but fairy lights circled the gum trees nearest the boathouse and the world seemed mysterious and full of promise.
The scent of smoke drifted to her and she glanced to her left. Someone stood in the shadows of the balcony, the tip of his cigarette glowing.
She smiled, because she knew exactly who it was. Full of champagne and mischief, she went to talk to Seth.
* * *
WHATEVER ELSE A person thought about Vivian—and Seth had had a few very detailed, very specific thoughts regarding her in the twenty-four hours since they’d met—it was impossible to ignore the fact that she knew how to move. There was a swing to her hips, a strut to her walk that issued a challenge.
Look at me. Take me on.
Watching her walk toward him, half her face in shadow, he could only admire the way she worked it.
“Ms. Walker. Taking a break from the festivities?”
“Avoiding the ‘Chicken Dance.’”
He winced. “Really?”
“Yep. There will be some ‘Greased Lightning’ and the ‘Bus Stop’ before the night’s over, too.”
He swore under his breath and took another drag on his cigarette.
“You got another one of those?”
“Didn’t realize you smoked.”
“Only when I’m drunk.”
He gave her an assessing look. She wasn’t swaying on her feet or glassy-eyed, but her cheeks were a little flushed. She waved a hand dismissively.
“Relax. I’m not there yet,” she said.
“Hey, whatever gets you through the night.”
God knows, she’d get no judgment from him. He’d been guzzling champagne since they’d arrived at the boathouse, trying to anesthetize himself against the knowledge that his brother’s life was officially over.
He offered her a cigarette and lit it, breathing in her perfume. Spice and musk. Nice.
“So I hear you’re a fashion designer?” he said as she blew a stream of smoke into the darkness.
“Been asking about me, James?”
It took him a moment to remember their James Dean/Marlon Brando conversation from last night.
“My mother mentioned it. She seemed to think we might have a lot in common.”
Her eyebrows shot skyward and she looked as horrified by the notion that his mother had matchmaking on her mind as he had been.
“Yeah, I know. I laughed so hard I think I broke my funny bone,” he said.
“What is it with people always trying to pair everyone off in neat little couples? News flash—not everyone in the world wants to file two by two onto Noah’s Ark and live like the Brady Bunch for the rest of their lives. There’s a hell of a lot more to life than paying taxes and making babies.”
“Man, don’t get me started,” he said, thinking of the grief his father gave him every few months about giving up the band to do something “realistic” with his life. No matter how many times he explained that music was his life, it never seemed to get through.
“No offense, but I nearly choked on my own tongue when Jodie told me Jason had asked her to marry him. I mean, she’s only twenty-six. That is young to be getting married these days.”
“You think I didn’t freak when Jason told me he’d popped the question? Your sister is nice and everything, but come on.”
She held her hands in the air. “Hey, preaching to the converted here.”
He reached for the bottle of champagne he’d smuggled out with him and took a swig before passing it to her. He watched her pale throat as she tilted her head back and drank deeply.
“I’ve got to ask this, because it’s been bugging me. What is it, exactly, that people say about weddings?” he asked.
She handed him the bottle. “I don’t know. Why?”
He shook his head, confused. “You’re the one who said it.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah, last night. You said tomorrow is another day and you know what people say about weddings.”
She laughed, the sound loud and delighted. “That’s freakin’ hilarious.”
He watched her, unable to stop himself from smiling even though he had no idea what was so funny. “You want to let me in on the secret?”
“Sure. I have no idea what people say about weddings. I was trying to be mysterious. You were doing your whole brooding thing, and I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t a pushover.” She laughed again and this time he joined in.
“Well, mission accomplished. Congratulations.”
“Why, thank you, James.” She grabbed the bottle and took another swallow.
He took advantage of the opportunity to check her out again. The other bridesmaids looked okay in their dresses, but Vivian looked amazing. He especially liked the split in the side of the skirt that had tantalized him with glimpses of her thigh all day.
“I bet the other bridesmaids were pissed when they heard you’d be maid of honor,” he said admiringly.
“You don’t need to butter me up, James.”
“Don’t I?”
“Nope.” Her gaze held his, and he was pretty damn sure that he wasn’t imagining the invitation in hers.
Well, happy birthday, Mr. President.
“In that case, maybe it’s time for me to bring out the big guns.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the joint he’d rolled earlier.
“I see you’ve really committed to the whole rock-and-roll lifestyle.”
“You got a problem with that?”
She gave him a slow, steady head-to-toe appraisal. “Not in the least.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment of thanks. Sometimes, out of nowhere, the universe delivered a perfect moment. He was going to grab this one with both hands and run with it.
* * *
VIVIAN WASN’T SURE if the limo was her idea or Seth’s. It was all a bit hazy in her mind after that first kiss on the balcony. One minute they’d been talking, then she’d been pressed up against the building with Seth’s body against hers and his tongue in her mouth.
And holy hell, could the man kiss.
He’d stormed her mouth and her body as though he owned her, and she’d been wet and desperate for him within seconds. The feel of him, hard and demanding against her belly, had her thinking of getting naked and horizontal pronto. Then he’d broken their kiss, taken her hand and led her to the stairs.
Now, he slipped the driver some money to take a walk. She shivered with anticipation as Seth opened the door and waved her inside.
“Madam.”
One word, but so loaded with promise she had to squeeze her thighs together to contain her excitement. She crawled onto the backseat, kneeling as he got in and closed the door.
“You’ll have to unzip me.” She offered him her back. It didn’t take three years of design school to know that precious little action would happen while she wore a figure-hugging, floor-length sheath.
“Totally on it,” Seth said, his hands on her zipper.
She felt the fabric loosen, and she wriggled until she’d pulled it off and draped it over the driver’s seat.
“Oh, man.” His gaze was avid as he stared at her cream-colored balconette bra and matching panties.
She loved the slightly dazed look in his eyes.
“Brace yourself, I’m climbing on board,” she said, slipping a leg over his body and straddling him.
“Permission to board granted. And anything else that strikes your fancy,” he said. “And speaking of fancy...”
She bit back a moan as his hands slid onto her satin-covered ass, curving his hands to the shape of her body as he pulled her close. They kissed, his hands massaging as she ground against his erection. He smoothed one hand up to the clasp of her bra, and seconds later she felt it slacken around her rib cage.
“You’ve done that before,” she murmured as she slipped the straps down her arms.
“I was a Cub Scout.” He swore under his breath as her bra fell from her breasts. “Vivian, seriously. Could you be any freakin’ hotter?”
She didn’t get a chance to respond because he leaned forward and pulled one of her nipples into his mouth and she was lost.
Utterly gone.
Never had a man’s mouth on her breasts felt so good. Hot and wet, his teeth and tongue teasing her. She gripped handfuls of his hair and held him in place, riding the waves of desire sweeping through her. Then he slid a hand onto her belly and beneath her panties and took her to a whole new level.
The feel of his clever fingers between her thighs was crazy-making, the pressure both too much and not enough. She started to pant, and when he slid a finger inside her she gave a low, guttural moan.
“These have to go,” he said, and she heard a rip as he tore her panties off.
A part of her wanted to laugh at how mad and desperate it all was—the cramped quarters, him tearing her clothes off, their harsh breathing. But then he found her with his thumb at the exact moment that he bit her nipple and she was too busy coming, her head dropping forward as she clutched at his shoulders, needing an anchor to keep her earthbound.
Moments later she opened her eyes to find him watching her with a huge grin on his face.
“Like a handheld flare,” he said.
“Sorry?”
He reached for the buckle on his trousers. “I’ll explain later.”
She stared as he slipped himself free from his pants. Wow. This was going to be good.
“Want to do the honors?” He held up a condom.
She smiled, relieved that they weren’t going to have to have that battle. “Don’t mind if I do.”
She pulled the latex from the foil, slipped it over the head of his very hard erection and smoothed it on. The moment she rolled it home, she took him in hand and guided him to her entrance. Holding his eye, she slid onto him in one slippery, wet rush.
His breath sighed out on a wordless exclamation, and when she started to move, his hands tightened on her hips. He felt so good inside her, so thick. Desire tightened inside her again, stoked higher by every stroke of his body. He drew her closer, tonguing her nipples. She tilted her hips and ground herself against him, one hand on his shoulder for balance.
For long moments there was only the sound of their breathing and their bodies coming together. He reached between them, finding her with his thumb again, and she keened desperately, so, so close to coming a second time.
Her movements became urgent, fervent, as she raced toward oblivion. This time he went with her, his hips surging off the seat, his hands dragging her down as he buried himself, his body shuddering. Her body tightened around his as she climaxed, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she kissed him deeply.
She lay limp as a rag doll on his shoulder for what felt like a long time afterward, trying to muster the energy to move. So many things to do—get rid of the condom, get dressed, check her makeup, go back to the reception—but she was so boneless with sated pleasure she could barely blink.
“How you doing there?” he said, his voice a rumble near her ear.
She pushed herself off his chest, letting out a gentle sigh. “I’m pretty good. How about you?”
“Fair to middling.”
They began to laugh, then a car started nearby and they both ducked instinctively.
“Shit. What time is it? People must be leaving already,” Vivian said.
