The Secret Wedding Dress (19 page)

“Kendra has lots of nightgowns,” Rianne said. “Please, Daddy? Sylvie can pick me up in the morning. ‘Cause she’s going next door to Kendra’s, where some woman’s dog is having puppies. If they get born tomorrow, like Mrs. Wiley thinks, me’n Kendra get to see the puppies.”

Sylvie and Dory both converged on Joel and began talking of one accord. Dory prevailed over her sister. “Joel, I said she had to get your permission to spend the night. And if the puppies are born, then they can go and see them
maybe.
If they’re good. That’s the deal.”

Sylvie denied knowing the plan included a sleepover tonight.

Dory tied the garbage bag and handed it to her husband,
who’d just walked up. “There aren’t many days left until school starts. Sleepovers are more scarce after that. Really, Joel, the girls are getting along so well.”

Because they were displaying the kind of ties he’d envisioned Rianne forming here, Joel gave in. He gathered up his daughter’s purchases, shook hands with Grant and Rob, and in about a minute, found himself alone in his van with Sylvie.

She buckled up. “My family engineered this,” she said bluntly when they’d backed out of the Sheas’ driveway.

“Engineered the festival meeting tonight? Don’t worry. I enjoyed myself.”

She snapped forward. “This!” Sylvie gestured between them. “Us. You and me driving home together. Without Rianne.” Flinging herself against the seat, she crossed her arms in disgust. “Honestly, they are so transparent.”

“So,” he said slowly, as if he’d finally grasped her point. “What shall we should do about it?”

“Do?”

Joel hesitated briefly, and flexed his hands nervously around the steering wheel. “Well…it seems a darned shame for two adults to waste a perfectly good, carefully engineered kid-free night.”

Sylvie gaped, but gnawed at her upper lip, saying nothing. She had to admit, however, that she had all sorts of thoughts running through her mind. And what her mind conjured up had her heart pumping blood lickety-split through her veins.

“Am I alone in thinking there are sparks flying between us, Sylvie? If I’m off base, say so, and the whole idea of spending an evening together will be forgotten.”

“You’re, uh, not alone.” Her admission came out sounding squeaky.

He took one hand off the wheel and in the dark, found her cheek. He brushed it softly, then clasped her fidgeting fingers. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt attracted to anyone, Sylvie. What about you?”

“The
same,” she said, unable to meet his searching gaze.

“I believe you said there was a man who hurt you.” Again he let silence engulf them. “Just thinking if you’re still hung up on him, this probably isn’t a good idea.”

She bit her lower lip. “I—someone made a fool of me, Joel. Please…I’ve lived in the city, so I know that hooking up for…sex…is handled like a business transaction by some people. Basically, I’ll always be a country girl.”

“Well, now.” He expelled a ragged breath. “I’m uncomfortable with what you called it—hooking up for sex. Just so you know, I don’t do that, Sylvie. All I’m proposing is that we take advantage of my having a free evening. To get to know each other better. Hell, I like being around you. But you seem really prickly, like at times you’d rather not be in the same room with me.” He broke off then, his voice letting him down with a gruff cough.

She burrowed into the seat again. A soft smile, one that wasn’t the slightest bit forced, teased her lips. “You’re a fine one to talk, Joel Mercer. We didn’t exactly start off well, what with your cat and Oscar causing trouble. And I explained about the wedding vigilantes. I know, I know.” She held up a hand. “You’re immune—that R factor thing. However, if you like popcorn and old movies, I think we may actually have a place to start over.”

Joel couldn’t explain it if he tried, but all of a sudden he felt as if he’d dropped about ten years. He started to turn into Sylvie’s driveway, then slammed on the brakes, backed up and pulled into his own lane. “I’ll have you know I love popcorn, provided it’s slathered in artery-hardening butter. And I’ll stack my closet full of old movies against yours. I mean, when you’re single in a big city and you have a kid, late-night movies become a way of life.”

Laughter filled the interior of Joel’s van. As they climbed from the vehicle, Sylvie said, “So, are we indulging in this movie fest at your house or mine?”

“Yours,” he said, pocketing his keys to grab her hand. “This
short jaunt to my house is insurance. If your nosy family takes it upon themselves to do a drive-by,” he said, sounding smug, “they’ll see both cars in their proper spots. Who’s to know where the drivers are?”

“Brilliant, Mr. Mercer. I’m definitely beginning to like the way you think.”

“Give
me a minute to close all the drapes,” Sylvie said when they got inside. “Let my sisters speculate, if they do come by to check on us. It’s something I can see Mom doing, frankly. Carline’s probably too miserably pregnant. And Dory took the kids home, so it’s pretty far for her. But I wouldn’t put it past her to send Grant out for milk, and then make him promise to take the lo…ong way home. I guess you’re beginning to see what I meant about my family, Joel.”

He rattled change in his front pockets. “In spite of that, I like them. They care about you, Sylvie. Every last one. They’re happy. Any fool can see they want the same for you. Your mom likes me, but she seems worried that I’ll get bored living in Briarwood. She doesn’t like me enough to have me start a relationship with you if I end up going back to the big city.”

Sylvie just listened to what he had to say. Joel followed her into the kitchen, where she now emerged from the pantry with an electric corn popper. “Mom said all of that tonight?”

“She’s subtle, yet at the same time, you get the picture. I’ve give Nan that. So, when’s your sister’s baby due? Your dad said something about Labor Day weekend? Did they plan that? A fitting time to schedule the arrival of a baby.”

“Carline thinks she might go early. She had a lot of phantom pains tonight.”

“My
wife had those. Braxton-Hicks contractions, they told us.”

“Was your divorce civilized, Joel? So many aren’t.” Sylvie plugged in the popper and passed Joel two unopened beers. “I assume you didn’t drink at the barbecue since you were driving home,” she said, turning to measure out oil and corn.

With a twist of the wrist, he wrenched off first one cap, then the other. “I guess you could say Lynn’s and my divorce was civilized, although it came as a shock to me. Rianne was a baby. We were saving, or so I thought, for a house. Lynn worked as a junior reporter for a local news channel. She came home one night and over dinner announced she’d accepted a post as foreign correspondent—a stepping stone to bigger and better jobs. After I got past the initial blow, I asked about us. Me and Rianne.” He took a swig and motioned with the bottle. “She pointed out that I’d wanted a baby. I wanted the house. She said she wanted more. More money. More excitement. More freedom.”

Sylvie watched the steam bead inside the popper lid. “At least she didn’t stab you in the back and run off with another man.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

Sylvie didn’t immediately speak. She tensed, then said curtly, “This popcorn will be done before you know it. My movies are stored in a glass-front cabinet on the east wall of my living room. Why don’t you go see if there’s something you like. Or at least can sit through. According to Grant and Jeff, men and women will never see eye to eye on what makes a good movie.”

Figuring Sylvie didn’t want to talk about herself, Joel headed into the other room.

“Holy cow! Okay, I take back everything I said about my movie supply competing with yours.” She had her DVDs and videos alphabetized and neatly stored with the titles facing out. That was another difference between men and women. His collection was thrown in boxes without any order whatsoever.

Joel
settled on a 1940s swashbuckler,
The Black Swan,
starring Tyrone Power and Maureen O’Hara. It was probably a grade B adventure-romance. But for now, it gave him reason not to go home to an empty house. He liked the idea of sitting on that couch with Sylvie. Maybe they’d even cuddle during the racy scenes, he thought, slipping the cover off the movie. Not that those scenes were likely to get too racy.

The smell of fresh popped corn filled the room as Sylvie entered carrying a large bowl. “Good, you found something, I see. Ah, and one I haven’t watched in a while. Pop it in the player, and then come and share some of this while the butter’s still hot.” She dropped a stack of paper napkins on the center cushion of the corduroy-covered couch. As Joel sat, near enough to reach the bowl but not so close as to crowd Sylvie, he wondered if she’d covered the sofa herself. Other crafts scattered about the room contributed to a pleasingly warm atmosphere.

The initial credits rolled. Neither Sylvie nor Joel were squeamish about diving right into the buttery mix, to the point of batting at each other’s hands. “Quit hogging,” they accused almost in the same breath. After that, they both had the grace to look guilty, and ended up laughing as good friends might.

Joel spent as much time watching Sylvie enjoy her snack as he did on the movie.

“You chose this film,” she finally muttered. “If you’re staring at me hoping I’ll get so self-conscious I’ll hand you the whole bowl, forget it. My sisters tried that trick at the theater. I don’t distract easily, Joel.”

“Izzat so?” he drawled, studying her from sleep-lidded eyes as he inched nearer, not really having a plan to go farther. “It’s a rare man who can resist a dare like that.”

Sylvie stopped munching popcorn and swallowed hard. There was something about the glitter deep in his eyes that said he had more than stealing popcorn on his mind.

Joel didn’t make any sudden moves, nor did he rush. He caught her hand, which had gone still holding two pieces of
popcorn. Lifting her hand to his lips, he nibbled the kernels out of her fingers, then methodically licked salty butter off each fingertip.

A shaft of passion stabbed through her, connecting her tingling fingers with a quivering seizure in a wholly unrelated part of Sylvie’s body. She didn’t notice when Joel slipped the bowl off her lap and reached around her to set it on the lamp stand. A range of sensations seemed to paralyzed her. As if detached, Sylvie heard voices from the movie soundtrack. Swords clashed in the background. Having steeled herself for so long against any feelings of desire, Sylvie honestly believed she’d lost the capacity to suffer this sharp, immediate need that gripped her.

But she hadn’t…

Joel felt the quiver that ran through her and excitement pumped through an out-of-practice body. He loved the effect his touch had on the woman he was with. It’d been so long, Joel actually feared he might have lost the ability to evoke such a response. So it was humbling and gratifying to feel Sylvie’s lips soften beneath his. To watch her body become pliant, responsive…

She felt a hot flush sweep over her the minute Joel’s fly pressed against her most sensitive spot. She wanted more than that erotic friction. She wanted oh, so much more. But with his kisses inflaming her addled brain, she felt powerless to do anything but
feel.

And damn Joel Mercer—he was in no hurry to end her frustrations. In slow motion, it seemed, he dispensed with her blouse and his shirt. He didn’t even rush to free her aching breasts. Rather, he nipped his way down one side of the V formed by her bra, and up the other. Her nipples throbbed, and Sylvie chased his lips, fusing them against hers.

During one steamy kiss, Joel unfastened her bra. Though he fumbled a bit, he helped her out of her capri pants. Necessity forced them to surface for air before he’d managed to do more than unsnap and unzip his slacks.

It
crossed Sylvie’s mind that she ought to suggest moving to her bed. But it became obvious that comfort wasn’t high on either of their lists. They used precious minutes just determining that Joel had a couple of crushed but usable condoms tucked deep in his wallet. After that, giving each other pleasure took top priority. It’d been a long time since either of them had engaged in love-making, so when Sylvie began to rock her hips, he growled deep in his throat. He reversed their positions, settling her above him.

Being on top was a first for Sylvie. Touching him intimately, exploring his many textures, his shape, his hardness, filled her with a power like none she’d ever experienced. She gloried in knowing that she alone was responsible for Joel’s arousal.
She
had the privilege and the means to bring them both incredible pleasure. The ultimate primal satisfaction crashed over her in waves.

Afterward, Joel couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. He loved the feel of her pressed fully against him. When he was finally able to command his muscles, he lifted an arm and stroked Sylvie’s smooth back.

Her answer was to kiss his chest. She realized that what she’d feared most about ever putting herself in this position again, in making herself vulnerable to another man, hadn’t occurred. Sylvie knew Joel didn’t love her, either, any more than Desmond had. But he’d made her feel cherished all the same. With Des, it’d always been about
his
pleasure. She could see that clearly now.

“Thank you,” she whispered against Joel’s hot skin.

“You stole my line,” he said, rolling to the outside of the sofa, enough to slip a hand under her chin and tilt her head so he could see her eyes. It pleased him immensely to find them clear and free of any shame or recrimination.

“I suspect our popcorn has grown cold,” she said, not sure exactly what was expected after such a cataclysmic coupling.

Laughter rumbled from Joel’s stomach up through his
chest, shaking them both. “My ego will really be hurt if you point out that we missed the best part of the movie, too.”

She raised herself and peered at the television, leaning her chin on his naked shoulder, “I don’t know about the best part. I’d say we missed all of it.”

Joel felt an erection building again, just from her casual touch. Kissing her hard, he murmured, “I wouldn’t have thought I’d be able to suggest a repeat performance so soon. I’m willing, if you are, to call our last run-through a damned good dress rehearsal.”

What surprised Sylvie most was that he didn’t have to ask twice. “If you think we didn’t get it right the last time.” Her soft smile teased him.

“Oh, we got it right. But now we’ll improve on perfection,” he said, crushing her mouth with his.

Their second time was less rushed. They knew things about each other now that they’d had to guess at before. Ways to touch. Spots to linger on. They clung together for a long while afterward. Neither felt the need to budge or say a word.

When Sylvie did speak, it was lazily. “I’m sure glad I closed the drapes.”

“I agree.”

“Do you think tomorrow, when I go pick up the kids, that Dory or anyone will…figure it out?” She swung her legs over Joel’s, and finger-combed her tangled hair with one hand, while reaching for her fallen shirt and pants with the other.

Joel sat up to give her more room. He studied her, a half smile lurking at the edges of his mouth. “If they walked in right this minute, the answer would be a definite yes.”

Sylvie swatted him with her blouse. “That’s a given, you dope. It’s that…Dory has my mother’s eyes. Eyes that can see right through you.”

Easier with his nakedness than apparently was she with hers, Joel stood and stepped into his briefs and slacks. He couldn’t say for sure how he’d divested them both of shoes. Or
how his loafers and her sandals got wedged so far under the couch. On his hands and knees, searching for them, he asked, “Does it matter that Dory knows? We’re not kids, Sylvie. And this
is
the twenty-first century.”

Dressed again, she crossed the room to hit the rewind button on the movie that had gone to waste.

Her obvious silence matched the pinched expression tightening her lips. Lips still swollen from his kisses.

Joel found her hesitation troubling. “I was going to suggest making more popcorn and letting you choose the next movie. But considering how long it’s been since either of us engaged in the activity we just engaged in, I should probably amend that idea so you can go soak in a hot tub. Otherwise, tomorrow you may have aches and pains that are hard to hide. That could be a giveaway.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, Joel. You’re right.” All business now, she scooped up the bowl and the nearly full bottles of beer. “I could…uh…make coffee, if you’d like.”

“What I’d like to do is spend the night,” he said, pausing to skim his hand along the slope of her cheek. Withdrawing, he lightly rubbed the first shadow of a beard. “But since Rianne could call me at home at any time, we’d better hold off on that. At least until her next sleepover, when I have time to tell her to call my cell if she needs me.”

“You, uh, want to do this again?” Sylvie asked, stopping at the kitchen door.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Joel chewed on his upper lip for a moment. He fought a rush of heat creeping up his neck. “To be honest, yes. But if all you want is a one-night stand, I won’t make a pest of myself.”

“No…no,” she rushed to say. “I…just never thought about down the road.” Sounding panicky, she said, “Really, Joel, nothing’s changed. Despite this evening. We can’t let Dory, Carline or my mom see the slightest hint. I swear they’d have our church booked, flowers ordered and a minister on tap.”

He
turned after he’d disengaged the front door lock, deciding to throw caution to the winds. “If that’s the case, shouldn’t
I
be the one to worry? According to rumors, you’re the one who has a secret wedding dress waiting for…what? The right man to come along?”

There was a look of shock in her eyes. “Who…said such a thing?”

He shrugged. “I don’t recall. Several people in town. Is it true?”

“The dress they’re talking about is no one’s business, Joel. It’s…just…not!” She was so flustered, Joel held up his hands, palms out, to deflect further discussion.

“Okay. Okay! Calm down. I’ve got no problem keeping our relationship a secret. I like you, and I think you like me. Whatever comes next, I’m fine with playing it by ear, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Yes. That’d be best all the way around, Joel. Tomorrow, we’ll both go about our normal lives and see. Uh, good night.”

He slipped out then, wondering at her sudden switch in—in what, exactly? She’d said all along that she didn’t have marriage in mind. Jeez, neither did he. Or
did
he? No, they were just neighbors. Neither had made a commitment of any kind tonight.

Joel stomped down his lane and up onto his front porch. He didn’t have the slightest idea why he was so bothered by something most men he knew would leap at. A pretty neighbor willing to engage in casual sex. But bother him it did.