May the Best Man Win (14 page)

Emily ducked her head and brushed a few strands of hair from her face, obviously flustered by the compliment.

Mitchel turned to Jase then, a wide smile in place as he shoved out his hand. “Jase, man, good to see you again.”

Jase pulled it together and did the whole polite thing, not entirely sure whether the guy had picked up on what was happening before he walked in.

If their roles had been reversed, no way would Jase have missed some asshole putting those moves on Emily. And he sure as hell would have let the guy know
he knew
what was going on. But that was just him.

Not Mitchel. Emily's not-fake date, who was barely six feet.

An uncomfortable weight landed in Jase's gut. He looked away, then back, as an ugly, unfamiliar part of him started to pound at the inside of his chest.

What was this?

Jealousy? Not just the funny, no-big-deal kind, but the real, gut-wrenching, bad-decision-making, caveman kind?

Jase didn't get jealous—at least he hadn't with the women he'd dated in the past. But now that Emily was in the picture, yeah, jealousy.

He was so screwed.

His eyes cut back to where she was smiling at Mitchel. Whom she'd been out with a few times. Did that mean they'd already had three dates and this was the fourth? Or was tonight—the night she was wearing that killer dress with her hair all wound up so there was no missing the sexy length of her neck—date
number three
?

Not. Going. To. Think. About. It.

He needed a distraction.

An emergency. Why hadn't he gone to medical school? He could be faking a call from the hospital right that minute. Skating out to go save some critical pretend patient in immediate need of his expertise. Only then he wouldn't be able to scrutinize every subtle touch, breath, look, or word shared between Emily and Mitchel for the rest of the night. He wouldn't be able to make an educated guess on where this date was going after the flaming saganaki and cheers of “Opa!”

It didn't matter. He didn't need Emily.

There were at least a dozen women he could call and have waiting at his doorstep when he got home.

Only he didn't want any of them. He didn't want anyone in his bed except Emily. And there was every likelihood that she would be going home with another man.

Flagging the waitress, he ordered a drink. A stiff one.

The night wrapped up not a minute too soon. Two grueling hours of Jase pretending he didn't care about the conversation taking place beside him. Trying not to react to the occasional brush of some soft bit of Emily he wished he didn't know quite so intimately. Trying not to think about what
a few dates
constituted for a girl like her.

And then trying not to think about what Emily—no matter what kind of girl she was—had let him do to her in a church after exactly zero dates.

He'd wanted more than the one drink he nursed all night, but better judgment and the all-too-real fear of putting a serious move on another man's date—in front of two dozen friends and family—kept him from giving in.

Standing with the rest of the group, he leaned in and dropped a kiss on Delphine's cheek, promising her a perfect day tomorrow. He toughed out an extended good-bye with Marcos's great-aunt, who liked to hold hands while she talked about the new medicine she'd started taking, and passed on Brody's invitation to take it back to the bar.

There was no way he could sit down with his friends and be cool while his thoughts were wrapped up in the sound of Emily's soft laugh for some other guy.

No, he needed to be alone.

Shrugging into his coat, he'd thought he was in the clear when Emily stopped beside him.

“Jase,” she started, not able to meet his eyes.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Em.” He thought about catching her chin in the crook of his finger and bringing her eyes to his, but if he let himself do that much, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop. So instead, he said the words a bigger man might have actually meant. “Have a good night.”

Twenty minutes later, he was stalking across the entry to his apartment, the echo of his door slamming harder than it should have still ringing in his ears. He threw his coat over the back of the couch and went straight for the bar, thoughts of Mitchel asking Emily if she'd ever been to France swirling through his head as the first gulp of scotch burned its way to his gut.
Provence
. Like, maybe they ought to go together. Because Emily would
love
the lavender fields.

Yeah, she probably would.

She'd probably find it romantic and be full of those soft, sweet smiles he hadn't had enough of since high school. Since he'd started putting up the walls between them so his friend could have the girl he'd announced he wanted to marry. Since he started blaming her for—

He swallowed past a lump that tasted an awful lot like regret.

Since he'd stopped deserving those smiles that it always killed him just a little to see.

Throwing back another swallow, he had one consolation to keep him warm that night. If she married stupid Mitchel, at least Jase wouldn't have to worry about being paired up with her for that wedding. Even if he was the right height.

Hell, he wouldn't even be invited.

Because they weren't friends.

Walking to the living room windows, he stared out at the night, the dark swath of Lake Michigan beyond the Drive. He threw back another slug.

A few dates.

Did she love that guy?

A knock sounded at his door.

Checking his watch, he saw it was after eleven.

Maybe one of the guys? They usually just let themselves up if the security door was open—and about half the time it was. But they'd have called first, and his phone was silent.

His steps slowed halfway to the door. It could be Lorna. The curvy brunette from upstairs who had a knack for knowing when he was in the mood for company.

Except tonight, he just wasn't.

Walking the rest of the way to the front of the apartment and working out a friendly put-off, he swung the door open—and froze.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

His vision narrowed to one singular point before him.

The strawberry blond with the Audrey Hepburn style, standing in front of his door.

Alone.

“Emily,” he finally managed, her name coming out rough and low. His relief in seeing her there was disturbing in its magnitude.

“I didn't know if… Maybe I shouldn't ha—”

She didn't have a chance to finish whatever she'd been about to say, because he reached for her, wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, and pulled her into the kiss he couldn't wait for. The kiss she eagerly returned, opening beneath him like she was as starved for the taste of him as he was for her. They'd barely closed the door before he had her pressed against it.

It was just after dawn when Emily woke. Pushing up on one elbow, she swept the hair back from her eyes.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep in Jase's bed. But then she hadn't meant to end up in his bed at all—at least not when she'd been getting dressed for the night before. When she'd had her date with Mitchel all lined up as defense number one against this thing with Jase they'd agreed shouldn't go any further than it already had.

Mitchel was supposed to be a nice distraction. He was decent looking. Interesting. Successful and sort of funny. An overall good guy who wasn't throwing off any of the signs that suggested he might be the type to get too attached, too possessive, too dependent. The signs that he might have a little bit of the crazy running through his veins. The signs that made her break out in a cold sweat and swear off all guys for at least the next thirteen months every time she caught even a whiff of it.

Mitchel had seemed like a good fit, which was what she'd been thinking when she ran into him at the coffee place around the corner from work and he'd asked if she wanted to share a table for a few minutes, teasing that he'd gotten gypped out of her company when he'd been out of town for Romeo and Sally's rescheduled wedding. She'd laughed politely, silently thanking her stars he hadn't been there. He was one guest who might have actually noticed when she'd disappeared.

The conversation was comfortable, just like it had been that first time they'd met. And when she was done with her coffee, he asked if he could take her to dinner that weekend. She'd been hesitant. On the brink of saying no when she asked herself why.

And the only answer was because of Jase Foster.

So she'd said yes, thinking the timing was perfect. If she had dinner with Mitchel, then she could bring him as her plus one for the rehearsal. And once and for all stop obsessing over what would happen when she finally saw Jase again. Take her destiny into her own hands and ensure the right thing happened when she saw him.
Nothing.

Good plan. Except for one thing.

Mitchel wasn't Jase. And no matter how much she'd wished that he would distract her from the man she shouldn't want, he couldn't. She'd spent the rehearsal dinner in a heightened state of awareness—her body in tune with every move Jase made. Every inadvertent touch nearly setting her aflame. It took everything she had to pay attention to her date. To smile at the right times. To respond to his questions and not give away the fact that she was hanging on every word the man she wasn't with was saying. That all she could think about was the fact that Jase was there alone. And the way he'd looked at her before Mitchel had shown up. The way he'd looked at her after. And then the way he hadn't looked at her at all.

Which was why once the night was through, she'd thanked Mitchel for a lovely time and told him good night outside the restaurant, passing on his invitation to find somewhere quiet to grab a drink. And then she'd tossed all better judgment aside and hopped in a cab and gone straight to Jase's apartment—because she simply couldn't stop herself.

But now, as night turned to morning, this stringless little hedonistic reprieve was over and it was time to scoot. To spend the day wiping the stupid, satisfied grin from her face before heading over to Delphine's around four to get ready for the wedding at six.

Jase had fallen asleep with his arm slung loosely around her, so step one was extracting herself from that too-tempting hold.

Shimmying to the side, she'd made it about halfway clear of the bed when Jase's breathing changed and then she found herself scooped back into all that solid warmth, held tighter than she had been before.

“Trying to sneak out on me?” he asked, his sleep-rough voice rumbling low against her ear.

It seemed too early to smile, but the playful tone in his voice triggered that slow spread across her lips just the same.

“No way,
darling
,” she replied, covering his hand with hers. “I was just going to check with the movers about getting my stuff moved in while we're at the ceremony. Maybe see if Delphine minds if we piggybacked their wedding.”

The snort against her ear shouldn't have given her any kind of warm, fuzzy anything. But for whatever reason, it did. She liked that she could make Jase laugh. She'd always liked it.

And that last thought was the one that had her prying up Jase's arm and wiggling her way out. Because this wasn't about warm fuzzies. It wasn't about her heart pounding a little faster when she thought of him. It wasn't even about the two of them being friends—and that was something she'd do well to remember.

Standing beside the bed, she scanned the floor and scowled. No panties or bra. No dress. Just her four-inch black heels—at opposite sides of the room where Jase had tossed one, then after kissing his way from bare ankle to bare ankle, he'd discarded the other.

Good times.

Jase pushed up on one well-toned arm, the sheet pooling around his lap so he was decent but just. He scrubbed a spectacular bedhead and gave her a long, appreciative look. “The wedding isn't until six, and you've got until noon before you need to be at Delphine's. Come back.”

Tempting. Definitely tempting.

Snagging a corner of the slate-and-charcoal comforter, she yanked it off the bed and tucked it beneath her arms. “Not that early. I have a few errands I need to take care of before meeting Delphine.”

She needed to get out of there before they found themselves in one of those awkward silences that would demand she say something about what brought her there the night before. What it meant about the night to come.

Stuffing her foot into one heel before hobbling over to the other and doing the same, she flashed him a restrained smile. “See you at the church.”

It seemed like the right thing to say, until Jase's brows shot up and then he was out of bed, wrapping the sheet around his hips as he followed her down the hall.

“Hey, wait a minute, will you?”

Scooping up her panties at what was now her favorite stretch of wall, she glanced back. “Hmm?”

He shouldn't be following her. He shouldn't have done anything more than maybe holler to her from his bed that she should lock the door on her way out.

That would have been the cool thing to do.

“Emily, you don't have any errands to check off your list at 6:47 a.m.”

Her bra was dangling from the arm of a steel-frame dining room chair. Which left her dress. The most critical element in her escape plan. “No, but I should get home and showered. I have a lot to get done today.”

Not in the kitchen either. Which meant…sure enough, there it was, a splash of black against the blond hardwood of Jase's entry. And bonus, her coat was right beside it.

Hopping around, she managed to get into her panties and work them up to her waist beneath the comforter. “Just give me a minute to get dressed, and I'll be out of your hair.”

It was a solid plan, but then Jase was right there beside her, his big hands curving over her shoulders as he pulled her around to face him.

Would she ever get used to looking up into those blue eyes?

No, she wouldn't. That's what leaving was all about.

“Emily.”

“Jase?”

“I don't want you to go. I…” He shoved a hand through his hair and swore. Only this time, it didn't sound like he was cursing his own weakness where she was concerned; it sounded like frustration. “Damn it, Em, I have some things I need to say to you. Some things I should have said a long time ago, but I didn't. And now here we are in my apartment, and you're trying to skate out like this was just some one-night hookup and—”

“And?” she asked quietly, not sure where he was going with this or even where she wanted him to go.

“And I don't want you to leave. I want… I want to tell you I'm sorry, damn it.”

She blinked. He was sorry. There were things she'd thought this man should have apologized to her for over the years. Big things. But never had he seemed to have even one iota of sympathy for her struggles. He'd never understood what she'd gone through with Eddie. He'd never believed her.

So those things she would have welcomed an apology for couldn't be it. Which meant he was apologizing for the business with her date last night. Or maybe for the whole twisted affair—was it even an affair? No, that sounded way too stringy for what she'd signed on for.
Fling
sounded about right. Actually,
hookup
was probably dead-on. It was just the four-night variety, not one.

God, she didn't want to hear he was sorry for what they'd been doing together. If anyone apologized here, it was going to be her…
for using him
.

“Whatever you're sorry for, don't be. I wouldn't be here if—”

“I'm sorry for Eddie,” he said, and everything stopped.

Suddenly the silence in Jase's sleek, modern apartment seemed deafening. The rustling of bedsheets and clicking of heels and pounding of her heart had ceased with that single statement. The topic they'd been gingerly avoiding—only getting close enough to throw a subtle jab the other's way, for as long as they'd been on opposite sides of the mess that had defined their relationship—had just been broached.

The wound she'd become an expert at ignoring reopened.

She stared at Jase, too stunned to shield her emotions.

“Christ, the look on your face right now. Emily, I don't want to hurt you. I'm sorry. I just can't pretend it isn't there between us anymore. And I can't pretend I don't want there to be an
us
either.”

“Us,” she coughed out, clutching the comforter tighter against her chest, because that was one word she'd thought she was completely safe from when it came to this man. “You don't want there to be an
us
, Jase. You're just…tired and—”

He laughed then, wrapping one heavy arm along her back and using it to pull her in to him, to take a kiss that was, God help her, so damn good. But instead of pushing the kiss further, instead of backing her against the wall or picking her up so her toes dangled off the floor—a novelty that had yet to wear off—he dropped a kiss on her nose.

“I know what I want, Emily. And I know there are a few things you ought to hear from me before I can ask you for it.”

Looking up into the deep blue of Jase's eyes, she shook her head.

“I don't want to talk about all that. For the first time, things are finally easy between you and me. Can't we just let last night be something we both wanted and not worry about the rest? I don't need anything more than this.”

She didn't. She couldn't.

Except then this man who had been the first to make her feel too many things, who she didn't want to allow to have any sway over her whatsoever, went and said the one thing she couldn't defend against.

“But you
deserve
it, Em. And the truth is, I
need
to say it. I'm not a bad guy. I try like hell to do the right thing in my life, to be a good friend to the people around me, but with you, it hasn't gone that way.”

“No. I guess not,” she said quietly, too many years of resentment and questions and hurt suddenly weighing her down so that the shoulders she always kept tall and straight bowed beneath the strain.

There were questions she had. Explanations she wanted. But to ask would only make her more vulnerable.

Then she thought about it, and screw that. In this one thing Jase was right. She did deserve an explanation.

And vulnerable?

Not unless she allowed herself to be. So she pushed her shoulders back and stepped out from beneath Jase's arm to walk over to the couch in his living room.

Like everything else in the apartment, it was masculine to the extreme. A dark-roast leather cut in clean lines and built with a frame to fit a man of Jase's size. A woman of her height.

She sank into the corner and kicked off her heels, pulling her knees up in front of her. “I used to think we were friends.”

Sheet still wrapped around his waist, Jase sat beside her. He braced his arms over the vee of his legs and folded one hand into the palm of the other. “I never thought of you as my friend.”

It shouldn't have been a surprise. And it sure as hell shouldn't have hurt, but his words hit her like a blow. Because she remembered those smiles. She remembered the laughter. The talking. The things that set what they'd had apart from anyone else. How could she have read it so wrong?

It didn't matter.

“Good to know.” She moved to stand, but before she could even wrestle one foot from the thick bedding tucked around her, Jase caught her fingers.

“I never thought of you as my friend, because I'd always thought of you as something else. First, you were the girl I wanted. And then you were the girl I couldn't have. You became the girl my best friend loved, and turned into the girl who was screwing with his head and tearing up his heart. And then when it didn't look like it could get any worse, you became the girl who almost killed him.”

Emily's breath rushed out in a whoosh.

She wanted to pull her hand away, but Jase was looking up into her eyes and she couldn't make herself move.

“Emily, that's how I saw it. But as I sit here now and look back at our history as a man and not the kid I was, I realize I was only right about one of those things. You were the girl I wanted. From the first day I saw that soft smile and those crazy long legs, I was a goner. You were so sweet and smart, and you made me laugh. And I wanted you. But for as cocky as I was about sports and grades and all that other meaningless shit in high school, I didn't feel so cocky around you. Around you, I was warming up to it. And the day I was ready to ask you if maybe you felt the same way, Eddie said it first.

“We were walking down the hall, and I was watching you like I always did, instead of watching him, which might have clued me in a little earlier, but there we were and he puts his hand on my arm and stops me. And the look on his face is everything I felt inside when I looked at you. And he tells me you're the girl he's going to marry.”