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Authors: Lauren Layne

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BOOK: Cuff Me
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And she got it; she was average height, flat as a board, with a too-pointy chin and jaw, eyes too big for her face, and blond hair that she wore in a pony more often than not in an attempt to disguise how flat it could be.

But Tom?

Tom made her feel
beautiful
. He made her feel like a
woman rather than a girl who seemed to inspire pats on the head from those around her.

Tom had picked her up at a bar. Cliché, yes, but made less skeevy by the fact that neither of them had walked into that swanky hotel bar with the intention of going home with a member of the opposite sex. And they hadn’t.

Gone home with each other, that is. Not that first night at least.

It had been the end of Jill’s first week in Florida. Her mom had just started coming to grips with the immobile reality of her near future and understandably had turned ornery, even toward Jill.

Not that Jill could blame her.

The prospect of months of not being able to walk or use an arm would have made Jill a bit stabby too. Still, by the end of that first week, both mother and daughter had needed a break.

Jill had waited until her mom’s friend came over for a marathon viewing of some show Jill had never heard of, and Jill had gone straight for her favorite therapy of choice: wine.

She was halfway through her first glass of a rather bright and delicious sauvignon blanc at a swanky beachside resort when
he’d
walked in.

It had been impossible to miss him. The bar was practically deserted, being early on a Monday evening, but even if the bar had been packed with wall-to-wall people, she would have noticed him.

For starters, he was tall.

Like, six-foot-plus, definitely.

Broad shouldered in that football quarterback kind
of way. His hair was dark blond and styled to look like a freaking Kennedy, all thick and rich-person like. Skin… perfect golden tan. Not the type of tan of a sun worshipper, or worse, a fake sun worshipper, just a guy who spent enough time outdoors to not look like a zombie.

Perfectly tailored suit? Check. White, friendly smile? Yup.

Politeness toward the bartender as he ordered his rye Manhattan?
Be still her heart.

Later, he would tell Jill that she’d been staring, and she didn’t bother to deny it.

In that moment when he’d picked up his drink and slid off his bar stool at the other end of the bar, it had never, not once, occurred to Jill that he’d be coming toward her.

Not until the bartender fluttered a cocktail napkin down onto the bar beside her own, just seconds before a large male hand placed his drink on it, did she realize what was happening.

This gorgeous, untouchable man was coming over to talk to her.

Luckily, there was one thing Jill did very well, and that was talk to strangers. It came with the job, what with questioning suspects and witnesses and family members all day long. Because God knew her partner was no good at that part.

But anyway, the gorgeous man in the navy suit later told her it was her unabashed staring that had amused him enough to make his way to her.

It was her unabashed friendliness that had made him stick around.

Everything after that… well, it had happened fast. Only a week after, he’d stuck out his hand and introduced himself as Tom, Tom Porter, in a sort of James Bondian
way that made her giggle. They had been eating dinner at that very same hotel restaurant.

Only a week after
that
, dinner with Tom had become the norm rather than the exception.

The week after that?

They occasionally threw lunch into the mix, either her coming to meet him at some fancy place while her mom was in physical therapy, or him bringing fabulous picnic-style lunches to her mother’s house, where he’d proceed to charm Jill’s mom
almost
as thoroughly as he charmed Jill.

Five weeks into Jill’s stay in Florida, Jill had stuck around for breakfast.

In his hotel room.

And then there’d been last night.

“Okay, okay, so he’s a dreamboat,” Elena said as the car crept slowly through rush hour traffic toward Manhattan. “How’d he pop the question? Champagne? Roses? Fancy restaurant with a water view?”

“Holy crap,” Jill said with a laugh. “Were you
there
?”

“I know all,” Elena said, extending her hands to the side as though she were some wise sage. “Did you see it coming at all?”

“Not even a little bit,” Jill admitted.

Not even with the expensive champagne, or the two dozen roses, or the fact that the restaurant staff seemed to be going out of their way to give Jill and Tom privacy at the terrace table overlooking the ocean.

She’d simply thought it had just been a really fantastic good-bye.

Instead it had been a bit more of a
be mine forever and ever
.

And Jill had said yes.

She’d said yes almost the second he’d gone down on his knee, not because she’d been that sure—she’d been
pretty
sure…
sort
of sure—she’d said yes because in that moment, Jill had wanted what Tom Porter was offering her.

A companion. A partner.
Love
.

And that’s what it came down to. Jill wanted to be loved. She wanted
to
love.

She loved her mother, obviously. And loved the memory of her father, God rest his soul.

And though she had no siblings of her own, the Morettis had filled that gap. And with the recent addition of Luc’s girlfriend, Ava, and Anthony’s new wife, Maggie, she had some amazing girlfriends to add to the mix.

And last, but never least, there was Vincent. Her partner. In some ways her best friend, although in a way that was different from her relationship with Elena.

But as much as Vincent sometimes seemed like two parts of the same whole, he’d always held a bit of himself back from her. From everyone.

He’d made no secret of the fact that he had no intentions of getting married, ever. Any fantasies Jill had had that her partner would one day wake up and
see
her were long gone.

Which left her a bit… lonely.

She wanted someone to come home to at the end of the long day who would just be there. Who’d pour her a glass of wine, maybe rub her feet and just listen.

Tom offered Jill what nobody else had offered her… ever.

Love. Commitment. A future.

And she knew that he loved her. Fast as their relationship
had developed, she could feel it. And she loved him too. At least she was pretty sure.

“Aww, you like him,” Elena said teasingly, reaching out a finger and poking the dimple in Jill’s left cheek.

“I want to be happy, El. I want the happily-ever-after with someone who wants it with me.”

She met her friend’s eyes and saw from the flash of regret on Elena’s face that El understood what Jill wasn’t saying out loud.

I can’t wait for Vin forever.

“I’m assuming you haven’t told him?”

Jill shook her head and looked down at her ring, still trying to get used to the sparkle on her finger. “No. Like I said, not really a phone conversation.”

“He’s going to be thrilled,” Elena said with a small smile. “I mean, he won’t show it, of course, because he’s emotionally barren. But he cares about you, babe. He just wants you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” Jill said.

Elena nodded distractedly, and Jill’s eyes narrowed. She knew her friend well, and something was definitely on Elena’s mind.

“Spill it,” Jill said.

Elena blew out a long breath. “Okay, so it was supposed to be a surprise, but given that huge rock on your finger and the enormity of the bomb you’re about to drop, I just can’t let you go in unprepared.”

Jill frowned. “Go in where?”

“To Anthony and Maggie’s place. There’s kinda sorta a surprise party awaiting you.”

Jill clapped her hands excitedly. “I love surprise parties! Especially when they’re for me.”

“I know you do, I just didn’t know if you were planning to tell everyone all at once, or if you maybe first wanted to break the news to…
individuals
first.”

Jill rubbed her thumb on the underside of the platinum band as she contemplated. In truth, she hadn’t really thought about how she was going to break the news to her partner. Hadn’t really let her brain go there.

“He was unbearable while you were gone,” Elena said quietly. “Even more so than usual.”

Jill snorted. “Yeah. I’m sure the separation was pure agony. You know, I barely heard from him?” she said absently. “I was gone three months, and I’d say he returned about ten percent of my texts, maybe two percent of my phone calls.”

Elena sighed. “So what’s the plan? I can make an excuse, say you’re not feeling well—”

Jill’s head whipped around. “No! I’m dying to see everyone. And your mom’s cooking…” She rubbed her belly.

“Okay, so what about the rock? You want to take it off for now, wait until you figure out how to tell everyone? Because you know it’s going to take all of thirty seconds for Ava or Maggie to spot that bad boy, and then it’s going to be all over.”

Jill twisted the ring on her finger as she stared down at her cell phone. The cell that hadn’t once buzzed with a message of any kind from her partner. No
welcome home
, no
hey
… nothing.

She glanced up at Elena. “It’s worth celebrating, right?”

Elena’s mouth dropped open. “Um, I’m offended by the question. Of course it is.”

Jill reached across and squeezed her friend. “Then I can’t think of anyone I’d rather celebrate with more than your family.”

“Hell yeah!” Elena said, reaching into her purse and pulling out her phone. “I’m totally telling my liquor guy to have a shit-ton of champagne delivered to Anth’s place.”

“I love that you have a liquor guy,” Jill said with a smile. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

Elena smiled without looking up from her phone. “I’ve missed you too. We all have.”

Jill’s happiness slipped slightly, and she turned to look out at the slowly passing city.

She was sure that most of the Morettis had missed her, but she wasn’t sure about all of them.

And she certainly wasn’t sure about the one that mattered. The one that had
always
mattered.

CHAPTER THREE

B
y the time Vincent found a parking spot even remotely close to his older brother’s apartment, he was a good thirty minutes late to Jill’s surprise party.

Elena had already sent him a scolding text that he’d missed the surprise part.

So had his mother.

He hadn’t heard from Jill, but then she wasn’t the type to bust his balls about stuff like that. She liked to reserve that for work-related topics.

Still, he regretted being late. But as it turned out, thinking of a welcome home gift for one’s partner is something that should not be left for the actual homecoming day.

After his haircut, Vin’s plan had been to go out and get…
something
to welcome Jill home.

But what was supposed to be a basic, simple errand had
led to Vincent driving all over the Goddamn city, growing increasingly clueless on what was appropriate.

Flowers? No. Vin didn’t
do
flowers. To say nothing of what his brothers would have done if Vincent had shown up with fucking roses.

Wine? Fitting. Jill loved wine. But seeing as the wine was already likely to be flowing freely at Anth’s place, a little anticlimactic.

Jewelry? Fuck no.

Clothes. Even Vin knew that was a no-no. You get the wrong size, you’re a dead man.

But damn it, he’d wanted to get
something
. Needed to. Needed to show her…

He’d gotten her a doughnut.

A maple bar, which as far as he was concerned was a sorry excuse for a doughnut. If it wasn’t chocolate, he didn’t bother. But the first day he and Jill had been paired up, and she’d talked his fucking ear off, that was the first thing she’d told him.

Hi, I’m Jill! I think we’re going to be great partners, but before we can be best friends, we’re going to have to know each other’s favorite kind of doughnut. Mine’s a maple bar…

Vincent smiled at the memory as he knocked at the door.

There was no answer, and he was about to let himself in, when it opened.

A wall of sound hit him. Typical Moretti family gathering volume: loud.

“Vin! I’m so glad you’re here.”

Vincent flashed a smile at his new sister-in-law. Maggie Walker—no, Maggie
Moretti
—was just about the sweetest woman on the planet, and far too good for Anthony.

She was dressed in a knee-length navy dress, her brown hair spilling over her shoulders, a warm smile in place, as always.

“Hi, dear,” he said, kissing her cheek as he slipped in the front door.

Vincent turned to face her, reaching out a hand and resting it unapologetically against her slightly rounded belly. “How’s my nephew?”

She smiled and glanced down. “Don’t let Anth hear you say that. He’s convinced it’s a girl.”

“Only because he knows a junior version of him will be an absolute nightmare.”

Anthony Moretti appeared at his wife’s side. “I heard that, brother dearest. And, actually, I’m a junior. So if we have a son and name him Anthony, he’d be the third.”

Vin shook his head. “You sound like an asshole.”

Anth shrugged. “We’re Italian. I don’t make the rules.”

“Whatever. Everyone all here?”

“Seeing as the party started at six, yeah, everyone’s here, ” Anth said.

“See? Asshole,” Vincent grumbled, starting to brush past his brother and head toward the kitchen where all the noise was coming from.

Where Jill was.

Anth grabbed his arm, and Vincent glanced up in surprise before shaking free. “What the hell, man? I’m thirty minutes late. Not a big deal.”

Anth opened his mouth, but shut it again after glancing at Maggie.

Vin shot a glance over his shoulder at his sister-in-law, whose expression was troubled. “Am I missing something?”

Neither responded, and he shrugged. “Whatever.”

He continued toward the kitchen, his eyes automatically scanning the room for Jill, even as he registered that the hand holding the bag with the doughnut was slightly sweaty.

You idiot. Should have left it in the car.

His eyes locked on the group of women in the corner, but before he could find Jill, who was several inches shorter than the rest of them, his younger brother stepped in front of him, blocking his field of vision.

“Champagne?” Luc asked.

Vincent accepted the glass, mostly to get it out of his face, before frowning at the fussy flute. “Is there no red opened?”

Luc clinked his glass against Vin’s. “We’re celebrating, douche bag.”

Vin took a sip. It was actually pretty good. “What are we celebrating?”

There was the briefest of pauses before Luc responded, and Vin’s instincts went on high alert. Now both brothers were acting strangely.

Not good.

“That Jill’s home,” Luc said.

Vincent’s eyes narrowed. His brother’s voice was too cheerful, even for Luc.

Testing his brother, he stepped to the side. Luc sidestepped with him, blocking Vin’s view of the women.

Bingo. Vincent took another casual sip of the champagne. “So, you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you and Anthony going to flip for it?”

“We already did flip for it,” Luc grumbled. “I won, and yet I notice Big Brother’s conveniently loitering with his hot wife by the front door.”

“Great,” Vin said, clamping his brother on the shoulder. “You can tell me later then. In the meantime, you cool if I go greet the guest of honor?”

“Vin.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, turning to find that Anthony had decided to join them, and both brothers were giving him a grim look. “Who died?”

Anth grabbed a handful of Vincent’s leather jacket before dragging him backward away from the kitchen.

Vin shrugged free and glared. “I swear to God, will you two clowns just—”

“Jill’s getting married.”

It was Luc that blurted it out, and Vincent very slowly turned to stare at his younger brother. Luc’s blue eyes gazed back at him, and there was no trace of his usual humor.

Vin slowly shifted his gaze to Anthony, whose look was equally somber. “I’m sorry, man.”

Vincent shook his head. “What do you mean she’s getting married? Who the fuck is she marrying?”

“That guy she was seeing in Florida.”

“What guy?!” Vincent was practically shouting now. This didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Jill couldn’t be getting fucking
married
. She’d have told him. She’d have…

“Well maybe if you’d made the time to talk to her, you might have known she was seeing someone,” Anthony snapped.

“Hell, maybe if you’d made the time to talk to her, she wouldn’t have been seeing
anyone
,” Luc muttered into his champagne flute.

Vin’s eyes narrowed on his brother. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it’s supposed to mean, you dumb, cowardly—”

Anth cleared his throat before socking Vincent in the shoulder.

It was as much warning as Vin had before a small, warm body collided against his.

Jill.

He’d been picturing this moment in his head for weeks now, and the joy, he’d expected.

The pain… not so much.

Jill was getting married.

Her arms were around his neck, and he very slowly wrapped one arm around her back before letting his face find the crook of her neck.

He told himself it was just a natural position, but there was nothing natural about the way he wanted to linger. Or the way his lips accidentally brushed her neck, or the way he wanted to kiss her there. To…

Jill was getting married.

She pulled back slightly before putting her hands on either side of his face and giving his head a little shake. “Would you believe that I’ve missed your ugly face?”

Her smile was all warmth and friendliness and familiarity, and he resisted the urge to rub his chest, which physically ached.

Tell her you’ve missed her too. Tell her that you…

Vin thrust the now completely crumpled bag at her. “Here.”

She blinked in surprise, looking completely puzzled as she hooked a finger into the opening of the white bag.

He felt the curious gaze of his family as everyone gathered around, but he ignored them. Only Jill mattered, and…

Damn it, man, a doughnut?!

She had a hard time pulling the bag apart, probably because he’d smushed the contents to death, and it was just…

Good God, it was like he was a fucking Neanderthal.

He was about to rip the bag out of her hand and make some lame excuse about having to be somewhere… anywhere, when Jill’s startled blue eyes snapped up at his.

She looked stunned. And… happy?

Please let her be happy.

“How’d you know?” she asked, tilting her head.

He blinked. “What?”

“How’d you know that a maple bar was
all
I could think about when I was in Florida? Would you believe they can’t make a decent one?”

“No such thing as a decent maple bar,” he said gruffly. “They’re disgusting.”

She ignored him as she pulled the completely flattened doughnut out of the bag and took an enormous bite, smiling happily as she chewed. “Perfect.”

“It’s not going to be perfect when you ruin the dinner I spent all day preparing,” Vin’s grandma grumbled as she generously topped off her champagne glass.


You
spent all day preparing, did you? Was that before or after yoga, or your ‘afternoon delight,’” Vin’s mother said, outraged.

“Whoa, whoa,” Luc said, moving between the two women before a fight could erupt. “Two things. No fighting about cooking. Remember? That’s why we hosted this shindig at Anth’s place. Second thing, afternoon delight. Thought we agreed that Nonna’s geriatric sex life was off-limits for family dinner conversation?”

“Oh, Luca,” Nonna said with a shake of her head. “You’re telling me you and Ava never—”

Luc’s girlfriend gently reached out and tipped Nonna’s champagne glass up to her lips. “Let’s not finish that sentence, hmm?”

Vincent barely heard any of this.

He was too busy watching the way Jill happily devoured her doughnut.

She was holding the sugary mess with her left hand.

Which was adorned with a brand-new diamond that was threatening to break the heart he didn’t know he had.

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