The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) (5 page)

Dressed in a plain white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back, she caught sight of a thick men’s watch strapped to his wrist. The man’s broad shoulders tapered quite deliciously to a trim waist where she became fascinated with the buckle of his leather belt. Long legs, sturdy thighs and a gait that was half swagger and half fuck-off-and-die mesmerized Sam.

He was, in simple words, nothing short of breathtakingly impressive.

Stopping at the end of the tropical-themed bar, he was speaking to the bartender when one of the scantily clad waitresses sidled up to him and put her hand on his arm. Sam almost leaped from her seat so she could push the woman away—a reaction that both stunned and excited her.

Sensing her clenched jaw, she tried to send a relaxation signal when she stopped in mid-breath and just hung there. Annoyed at the woman trying to chat him up, she was surprised when his reaction was an arched brow and a pointed look at the hand caressing his arm.

Oooh. My gladiator doesn’t like being toyed with.

Wait. What?

My? Gladiator? Where the hell had that come from?

Shaking her head, as if doing so would bring some sense back to her thoughts, Sam exhaled sharply and bit her lip but didn’t look away.

The pose Gladiator Man struck as the waitress continued to crowd close gave Sam pause. Whoa. If he looked at her the way he was glowering at the girl and her calculating performance, she’d fold up her lawn chair and run as fast as she could.

“What?” Sam murmured when she heard her name called.

“Earth to Sami.” Andi was chuckling. “Ground control to mission specialist Samantha Evers.”

Swinging her gaze to the other occupants of the table, Sam was relieved to find both Kyle’s hands in clear sight. She blinked a couple of times and took a sip of ice water. What the hell was wrong with her? It was so unlike her to be distracted by man candy walking by.

“I said,” Andi pointed out with pinpoint enunciation, “that we have to update everyone’s itinerary. Command performance dinner with the ‘rents tomorrow. Just the wedding party, though. Everyone else is booked for a private luau on the beach.”

“Right, right, right,” she answered. Pulling her thoughts into the present, Sam refocused all her attention on the happy couple across from her. “By the way, Kyle. Your mom is so sweet. I met her yesterday.” Chuckling, she gave them a wry smile. “Nobody told me she’d be a dead ringer for Reba.”

Andi’s smile was broad. And genuine. “Melanie Sommerfield is the real deal. But don’t be fooled by that Southern belle thing she does. The woman has a deliciously crude sense of humor and can issue a putdown with so much charm, the other person says thank you.”

“Oh, good lord. Bet your mom loves that, huh?”

Andi stiffened. Her mother was a card-carrying real housewife. Of the suburban kind where caring what everybody else thought and keeping up with what she called ‘the proprieties’ consumed the woman twenty-four seven.

Sam always felt Dolores Frank’s starched and stiff personality was the result of having her husband leave one day for a business trip—with his secretary—and never come home.

Andi was only twelve at the time, and the damage done to the preteen by her father’s betrayal of the family was long lasting. Not even the kindness of her stepdad, Steve, made much of a difference. Until Kyle came along, she’d been engaging in a farce of emotionless relationships that were little better than a shadowy blip on the radar screen.

“It would take at least two world-class Bloody Marys to loosen the stick up my mother’s ass.”

Andi’s sardonic comment was so funny and titillating that they all cracked up at the same time.

“Oh, look.”

Sam’s head snapped up at her friend’s gushing yelp.

“Here comes Ryan.”

As all eyes turned to where Andi was gesturing, Sam’s heart did a dance. Gladiator Man was walking their way.

The first thing she noticed was the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when a warm smile broke out on his face. Kyle was waving to him, and Andi clapped with delight as he neared.

Then, everything in her life changed when his eyes swung to her. She saw a flash—so quick it was gone in an instant—but not before Sam felt a blast of heat hit her broadside from just a look.

Oh. My. God.

His eyes never strayed from Sam’s face. Walking straight to her, she felt her heart’s drumbeat thudding in her throat.

Feeling trapped in the tractor beam of his gaze, she tried to swallow, but there wasn’t enough saliva in her mouth. A loud hum vibrated through her body, increasing the closer he got.

Finally, when he stopped at the table, his eyes still glued to her, Sam belatedly realized her head had fallen back on her neck as she sat there helplessly gaping up at him.

If drool were to suddenly drip off her chin, she wouldn’t have been surprised in the least.

O
n his list of things he despised were women who reacted to him as if he had the words sex toy tattooed on his face. He’d had enough of that shit in his life. After spending a couple of years modeling, Ryan developed a keen understanding of what it was like to be regarded as an object with one purpose.

The chick with the coconut-sized implants and way-too-obvious hair extensions propositioning him so blatantly when he stopped at the bar turned his stomach.

“Join me for a midnight hula lesson?” she’d growled.

“Sorry, sweet cakes,” he’d bit out. “I’m gay.”

Watching her face fall was worth the price of admission, and he was certain the throwaway line would earn him some breathing space.

The champagne ordered, he made his way to the table after spying Andrea perched on Kyle’s lap. His mood lightened at the sight of them.

He was so fucking happy for Kyle. Andi was a keeper. The farthest thing on the planet from a golf groupie, she had a way of cutting Kyle’s ego down to size and leveling the playing field with surprising finesse.

Smiling broadly, he was weaving through the other tables when his eyes stopped wandering at the sight of what he interpreted was the most beautiful girl in the world.

Thunderstruck, his heart did a triple-tap, and he had difficulty swallowing.

Who was she?

At night on the dimly lit terrace, she appeared almost otherworldly from the soft shadows cast by the surrounding palms. When she turned toward him, the flare from a nearby torch illuminated her face and bounced off the glittering gold she wore.

The distance between them wasn’t too great for him to see she had light colored eyes. He wondered if they’d be gray or light blue and felt his steps pick up speed as an intense thrum of curiosity spurred him forward.

Right at that moment, not even a volcano eruption could draw his attention away from the golden girl staring back at him.

She had shoulder length dark brown hair with mahogany highlights accented by the flickering torchlight. Delicately arched brows, a very cute nose, and a mouth he was sure would tempt his self-restraint sent signals to his dormant libido. The only reason he wasn’t barreling at her like a freight train so he could claim the quiet beauty for himself was Ryan’s belief he’d have a heart attack if he didn’t get control of himself, and fast.

It was excruciatingly difficult to pry his eyes off her startled expression, but he managed somehow. Just barely.

“Andrea,” he exclaimed. “You look marvelous! As always.”

His cousin’s bride blushed and squirmed, giving him the perfect next line.

“Although I’m bummed to see you sitting on that old pervert’s lap. Thought maybe you’d come to your damn senses by now.”

“Ryan,” she replied with a throaty drawl. “Please refrain from disparaging my husband-to-be in front of me.”

“Or what?” he taunted with real glee as he bent over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

The jubilant, almost victorious look on her face didn’t go unnoticed, but he wasn’t prepared for the curveball she threw straight at him.

“Or my BFF will kick your ass.” Smiling with obvious delight, she took him by the arm and physically turned him until he faced the golden girl across the table.

“Ryan Sommerfield, best man, meet Samantha Evers, maid of honor.”

They stared at each other for who the fuck knows how long. Finally, they blinked in synchronized mimicry.

“Um, hi,” offered the quiet stunner in a soft, silky voice.

How he stayed standing was a miracle because a hell-fire missile of skin-prickling lust exploded in his core the second he heard her small voice.

He wanted to have her. With no preliminaries. Just push her down onto a lounger and strip her naked. Involuntarily salivating, he imagined a thatch of mahogany curls where his tongue and cock wanted to be.

She blinked and flushed scarlet red as if she’s heard his lewd thoughts. Keeping his shit together got harder than his dick with each passing moment.

In a fugue state of sexual awareness that had Ryan by the balls, he saw himself reach for her hand, which she shakily extended. The second their palms touched, a jolt like an electrical charge shot up his arm and into his neck.

“Samantha,” he murmured.

She stared at him looking helpless and out of her comfort zone. Observant and aware, he was good at reading people. It was the artist in him. He saw her breathing change and watched as she chewed on her lip. He also knew she had felt the electric charge by the way she gasped as his hand engulfed hers.

If anyone else was talking, he couldn’t hear them. Not when every second of his life coalesced in this one transformative moment.

Holding fast to her small hand, his mind filled with a jumble of romantic imagery. Samantha Evers was put on this earth to be his.

“Oh,” she said on an exhale. “Um, Sam. I’m, uh, just Sam.”

Kyle snickered. So did his fiancée. Ryan couldn’t care less.

Feeling like every goddamn romantic hero he’d ever seen, Ryan sandwiched her hand between both of his and turned on the charm full blast. This girl was worth whatever sort of standing on his head he’d have to do.

“Samantha,” he chided playfully. “Such a beautiful name. It’s a shame to shorten it.”

She blushed. He drew her closer and leaned down to speak quietly. “I think I’ll call you Wicked Samantha.”

“Wha-what?”

He had her. She was hanging on his next words.

“It’s wicked of you to outshine the bride.” He winked and put on a big smile. Gently squeezing her captive fingers, he straightened as she let out a soft laugh and wrestled her hand away.

Ryan wasn’t sure what he expected next, but it wasn’t laughter. She was pointing at Andi and snickering. “Oh! I get it now. Fire extinguisher,” she howled with glee.

Andi’s response was an amusing laugh as she leaned forward and high-fived her friend. “I know, right?”

Kyle sat there quietly chuckling and made a production out of caressing his bride-to-be’s ass.

Making a fast assessment of the seating arrangement, he pushed a chair close to Samantha and lowered. His mom would approve that they sat boy, girl, boy, girl. Only one of the boys had a girl on his lap, and the other was intent on staking out his territory.

In a stroke of perfect timing, a waiter appeared with one of the busboys to set up an ice bucket and place four champagne flutes on the table.

“Compliments of the best man,” the waiter informed the table with a slight nod in Ryan’s direction.

Both girls laughed happily and sat forward in expectation. Champagne had a way of doing that with the ladies. Kyle, on the other hand, flipped him the bird. “Compliments of the best man, my ass. Bet that’s going on my tab, isn’t it, you prick?”

“First one’s on me, shithead. After that, it’s all you.”

After pouring the first toast, the waiter and his helper blended silently into the night. Ryan reached for his glass and leaned casually until he was close enough to Samantha that whispering was easy.

“Shit.” He chuckled as the hair hanging next to her ear moved from his breath. “I suck at toasts. I’ll take that ass kicking Andi threatened if you help me out.”

Her head turned slightly so their faces were mere inches apart and his earlier question was answered. Her eyes were a crystal blue, and they were turning smoky right in front of him.

“A graphic designer who can’t make a toast?” she teased.

He liked feeling her soft breath on his skin. Her voice filled with amusement, she ended every sentence she spoke by chewing her lip. Ryan silently counted to ten as a way to keep from running his thumb across the puffy flesh.

“I’m a visual guy,” he answered. For a few seconds, he let his eyes drift over every inch of her he could see. “If you like painstaking detail, I’m your man.”

She uncrossed her legs and then re-crossed them the other way. He studied her for a second, knowing that one day he’d be sketching those legs in a raunchy pose, and stowed the thought away.

They had an audience, and she was hardly a game player. For the first time in his life, he grasped the full meaning of seduction. Getting to know her, finding out what her temptations were, and using them to cause her surrender had him making a plan. But in the meantime . . .

Handing Samantha her glass, he motioned her to raise it like his and follow along. “Thanks, you two,” he said in a clear, firm voice. “Now, I know what happiness looks like.”