My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding (6 page)

The words had no sooner left Jemma's lips, than the waiter reached the table with their meal. The wait staff unfolded napkins and placed them in their laps, filled water glasses, and strategically placed plates in front of them. The table was momentarily abuzz with more workers than she'd seen throughout the entire restaurant to that point.

Slowly but surely, they cleared until one final waiter remained. "Will you need anything else?"

Tony looked across the table at Jemma and raised an eyebrow. She shook her head in response. "I think we're fine for now," Tony said, his tone and manner confident. He nodded for the man to leave.

Such rich, decadent food—although Jemma wasn't entirely sure she could name everything she ate, or that she wanted to. Light conversation filled the air, and they enjoyed their meals and each other's company.

As she laid her fork on her plate in defeat, she stared across the table at Tony. "I couldn't eat another bite. It's a good thing this dress has some give to it."

"I take it you enjoyed your meal?"

"Oh, yeah." She leaned back in her chair, released a contented sigh, and contemplated what would happen if she let out a Mikey-style belch. She imagined the facial expressions of the pompous well-to-dos, craning their necks to scowl in her direction. Thinking of the impression that might leave on Tony, she thought better of it and flashed him another playful smile.

"Leather thoughts again?"

"Nah, I'm way past that now."

"Are you ready for Bogie and Bergman?" He stood and rounded the table to pull her chair out.

With an emphatic nod, she stood and threaded her hand into the crook of his arm again.

He led her through the restaurant and back to his car, not stopping to pay the bill. As a matter of fact, a bill was never even put on the table.

*  *  *

They pulled into the outdoor movie park, and Jemma scanned the area, immediately disheartened. People filled all of the benches, cleared ground, and level patches in front of the old building the movie would be projected upon. She'd forgotten to grab a blanket or chairs for just such an emergency.

Tony stood beside her door and helped her from the car. "Too busy for your liking?"

"No, it's just that all of the good seats are taken."

He walked away from her, disappearing behind his car. The trunk lid popped up, and she heard rustling before he closed it. "Will these help?" He held out a thick quilt, a picnic basket, and an old radio. "The radio is so we can put the blanket wherever we want. There's an AM station that plays the movie audio. Am I clever, or what?"

"You
are
." She placed her hand on his proffered bicep.

Tony led her toward a small, cleared hilltop away from the crowd of people. With no need to be within hearing distance, the viewing aspect was their only concern. They reached the clearing, and Jemma turned to survey their remote, hidden treasure that offered them everything they needed: privacy, a great view, stars, and moonlight.

"Talk about prime real estate. This is perfect." Jemma took the blanket from Tony's arm and spread it on the level, grassy spot next to a huge oak tree. He unloaded the basket of goodies, and she noted he had everything she would've brought: a bottle of wine, two glasses, strawberries, cheese and, of course, chocolate. Tony placed them on the blanket and flipped on the radio, tuning into the right station just as the movie started.

Patting the ground next to him, he raised the wine and an inquisitive brow.

"Sure, why not." Jemma lowered herself to the ground in the most lady-like manner she could manage in her close-fitting dress, trying to retain all of her "secrets" in the process.

He filled both glasses and handed her one as she settled herself on her side. The familiarity of the movie mixed with the wine relaxed her. Before she knew it, the movie completely engrossed her as though she'd never seen it. The tinkling of piano music filled the air, and the raspy voice of Sam broke into the song "As Time Goes By."

Tony reached his hand out to Jemma. "Care to dance?"

She glanced around as though he'd asked someone behind her and blushed when she snapped out of her movie-induced bubble. "Sure." She slipped her hand into his, and sensual energy flowed into her from his touch.

She struggled to make her jellied legs work and come to a standing position.

This could be dangerous.

The song lilted from the radio about a kiss being just a kiss.

Tony slid his right hand over her shoulder and brushed her loose curls free, trailing his fingers lightly under them until his palm came to rest on the small of her back. Fire branded her skin where his hand touched, but paled in contrast when his body pressed against hers. The warmth smoldered through her, and she became far too aware of every inch of him touching her.

Tony took her right hand within his left, her fingers slowly clasping his; her free hand led a languid trail over his strong bicep and broad shoulder before coming to a rest at the nape of his neck. The silky feel of his hair between her fingers and the intoxicating,
beachy
smell of his cologne added to the overload on her senses.

Her legs steadied a bit when he led her onto their makeshift, quilted dance floor. Everything around them disappeared except the music and the moonlight. Jemma released a deep sigh, closed her eyes, and placed her head on his chest, listening to the heady staccato beat of his heart. She felt safe, secure, and right with the world. Even the nervous
jelly
feeling disappeared. All that remained was the sensual humming of attraction between them. Jemma had never felt a more perfect peace.

No dueling, no fighting. Just peace.

She raised her head and looked up at him.

"What's that sweet smile all about?" he asked.

"Oh, I just have a gut feeling my parents would probably like you."

"Okay." Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow and stopped dancing. "Do I want to know why holding you close brought about that particular
gut
feeling?"

"I can assure you it's nothing weird, if that's any comfort. It's just a woman thing, as my brother would so eloquently phrase it."

"Ah, that's good to know."

Tony pulled her close again, his lips brushing her ear, and they swayed to the music. A small sigh escaped as she thought about those lips on hers before
she could stop it.

Tony placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her face. "Something wrong?"

Not wanting to push her luck, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "I just remembered that this song almost got cut from the movie. It would've been such a shame. It's one of my favorites of all time."

"Yep, if Ingrid Bergman hadn't already cut her hair for her next film, they would've pulled the scene and shot a new one. It's funny how one little detail can change the course of history like that."

Jemma cocked her head to the side, impressed that he knew that bit of information. "We are
so
gonna play Trivial Pursuit sometime."

Tony spun her away from him and quickly tugged her back into the safety of his embrace, returning her to the now familiar spark as their bodies pressed together again. Their swaying resumed, only this time it seemed primal, rhythmic. Their gazes locked, and the flames inside Jemma burned higher as their lips inched closer.

"
As time goes by
," crooned between them.

Tony eased her back into a dip, cradling her upper back with one hand, raising her knee to his hip with the other. His lips grazed hers, a gentle touch at first, which slowly increased in intensity. His tongue slid along the seam of her lips, begging for her to open to him. Without any thought, she answered and allowed him access. Their tongues mingled, and Jemma enjoyed the mix of strawberries and wine she tasted from him. Tony stood her upright without breaking their bond. His arms reached around behind her waist, bunching the material of her dress in his hands, pulling her firmly against him.

Jemma's arms snaked up around his neck, and she wound her fingers in his silky hair. She released a small moan into his mouth, her body coming close to overload from his kiss alone.

Tony pulled away and stared down at Jemma with a hooded gaze. "Well, that song is wrong."

Jemma frowned in confusion.

"A kiss is
not
just a kiss, at least when it comes to yours. All I can say is, wow."

"Well, I prefer to leave words out of it and let the kiss speak for itself." Jemma grabbed Tony by the front of his shirt and pulled him into another sizzling kiss.

Tony's hands framed Jemma's face, and he pushed her back to within inches of his. "I think it's only fair to warn you that you'd better stop
talking
like that, or this
conversation
may reach the point of no return."

Jemma feigned a pout, complete with sad eyes and protruding bottom lip. "So, you're basically telling me to
shut up
and watch the movie."

Tony shook his head emphatically. "Oh, no, but I
am
still giving you that option at this point."

"Ah." Jemma slid to the ground near the tree and watched Tony's shoulders slump in defeat. He sat, leaning against the sturdy oak trunk near her.

Patting the ground between his legs, he cracked a lopsided grin. "Come here. I'll be good, I promise."

I'm sure 'good' would be an understatement.

She slowly crouched to her hands and knees, crawling toward him. She fought the urge with each movement to straddle his lap and give herself to him right there, with all the people just down the hill and Bogie and Bergman playing on the old grain storage building wall. Instead, she closed her eyes, released a huge sigh, and surrendered sweetly, sliding to a sitting position in front of him and leaning back into his awaiting embrace. Hard and ready, he pressed against her back, and it prompted the images from her dreams to flood her mind. She closed her eyes and reveled in the warmth swelling through her. The light touch of his fingers blended well with her thoughts, and he brushed the hair away from the crook of her neck, replacing it with light, lingering kisses, trailing them to her ear.

"What happened to being good?" she breathed.

His subtle sigh warmed her neck. "I can't help myself," he whispered into her ear. He nipped her earlobe and wrapped her tighter in his arms, pressing his body closer to hers. They both pretended to watch the movie, but the smoldering attraction kept a different kind of picture playing in Jemma's mind. The evidence of her effect on him never left its spot, pressed firmly in the middle of her back. The movie came to an end, but she didn't want to leave the safety of his arms or the fervent, liquid fire that consumed her.

During the quiet car ride home, Jemma found herself caught in the turmoil of her own emotions. Her two selves once again at war, they fought with hand grenades and tear gas. Common sense repeated a mantra:
Don't invite
him up or you'll look like a slut.
Over and over.

The little devil on her shoulder was all about satiating the needs they both obviously had, seizing the here and now, grasping the down and dirty sex that begged to be had by replaying their kiss, mingled by flashes of her dreams.

What happened to the harmony from earlier, guys?

Tony brought the car to a stop in front of her building. Tension reached a fevered pitch in Jemma's body, enough so that she was sure Tony could physically feel her struggle. Full-blown nuclear war erupted inside her. She turned, witnessing the smoldering passion in his eyes, and he claimed her lips in a mind-numbing kiss. Passion took over her brain, body, and soul, leaving no room for thought, only actions. His hands framed her face while his thumbs caressed her jaw line and fingers teased behind her ears.

Tony released an agonized groan and backed away from her. "Please, don't ask me to come up." His eyes extended the desperate plea.

"Okay." Disappointment slashed through the desire, leaving her confused. "I won't," she said, unable to hide her feelings. Even though he had settled her struggle, she flew right past the relief of not having to make the decision and felt a little sad and jilted.

He threw his head back against his seat, releasing a disgruntled scoff. "Oh, it's not at all what you're thinking. There isn't an inch of my body that isn't mad at me for saying those words. I'd love nothing more than to carry you up those stairs and have my way with you until you begged me to stop."

"Okay." Her brow knit, and she tilted her head, waiting for an explanation.

"I feel as though there could be so much more between us than merely the physical element. I guess I need to be sure you want me for more than just my body." He turned his handsome face toward her, staring deeply into her eyes. She read nothing on his poker face. Shock and embarrassment bolted through her at assuming so much more.

A mischievous smile crept onto his lips.

"You bum." Swatting at him playfully, she turned to let herself out of his car.

His hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him. "I'm not ready to let you go yet. Just because I don't trust myself within a fifty-foot radius of a bed at the moment, doesn't mean I'm done kissing you."

Jemma woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. Her nightgown clung to her body again, not that she wasn't getting used to it. Her phone chirped a happy tune from her nightstand. "This Kiss"
by Faith Hill, the song she'd programmed for Anthony's calls, filled her apartment. Lunging for the phone, she stumbled over her own feet and grabbed it on the third ring.

Deep breaths. Don't seem too eager.

She cleared her throat and tossed her head from side to side in a last ditch effort to loosen up. She grasped for nonchalance as she answered, "Always the Photographer, Never the Bride, this is Jemma." Her voice squeaked.

Damn.

"Hey, it's Tony."

"Hey, yourself." Playing coy seemed to work better than the whole aloof thing, so she went with that. She glanced at her alarm clock and noticed it was only six in the morning. Inwardly groaning, she said, "You're up early for a Saturday. Does the term 'butt crack of dawn' mean anything to you?"