The Wedding Gift (7 page)

Sure, things would be weird for a while, but by Monday night they'd be home again and life would work itself out. He'd get past his nightmares and back to fighting fires and bedding women.

She'd get on with the New Jan Plan. New job, new apartment, new wardrobe. And now that she'd come off the bench with a vengeance, maybe a new relationship.

Or not.

Because, honestly, what could compare to this? Mick was her best friend, the man she was most comfortable with in the world, the man she respected, admired, adored, and, okay, loved with all her heart.

To top it off, sex with him went places she'd only read about. He was talented, giving, and tireless. But that much she'd expected.

What she didn't expect was the intensity he brought to the game. Power, and heat, with a dark thread running though it. Like they were dancing close to the edge, and things could get out of control fast.

What would happen then, she had no idea.

All she knew for sure was that Mick had thoroughly ruined her for any other man.

 

Chapter 6

M
ICK
CARVED HIS
pancakes into bite-sized squares and drowned them in syrup. While they soaked, he turned to his fried eggs, popping them so they spilled out onto two slices of whole wheat, and carved that up too.

“Nobody can eat that much first thing in the morning,” Jan informed him.

He grinned. “Watch me.” Forking up some home fries, he wiped them through the egg, then the syrup, and got busy putting away breakfast.

Watching her break a few crumbs off her scone, he pointed his fork at her plate. “Is that all you're eating?”

“I don't have much appetite in the morning.”

It seemed strange that he hadn't known that. In thirty years, they'd never shared breakfast before. Now, sitting across from her in this red pleather booth in this funky Key West diner, he realized he had no idea how she started each morning.

“Breakfast,” he pointed out, “is the most important meal of the day.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She nibbled her scone like a rabbit.

He scooped up some pancake. “Here.”

She eyed his fork like it dripped blood instead of syrup. “Gross.”

He stuck it in his mouth. Tried again with eggy toast. She made a gagging sound.

No wonder she was so slender. He studied her over his mug. She wore another of her skimpy new outfits—blue camisole and white short shorts. With her hair loose around her shoulders, she looked about nineteen.

Every guy in the place had stopped chewing to watch her walk to the booth.

He'd have to get used to the fact that this new Jan turned heads. Men would be all over her. But they were doomed to disappointment, because she was all his.

She caught him smiling smugly. “You're chipper this morning,” she said, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

His smile widened. He was chipper, all right. Fresh from the best night of his life, and sitting with the woman who'd made it happen.

“I'm a morning person,” he said, leaving unsaid the obvious point that she wasn't. That much he'd known already, so he wasn't surprised she was grumpy, even after wake-up sex that damn near broke the headboard.

She made a face that summed up her opinion of morning people.

He chuckled. Her crabbiness didn't faze him. He was happy to watch her peck at her scone while he relived last night's highlights.

And there were many. Being with her was even better than he'd imagined; all the fun of hanging out with his best friend, plus wall-banging sex with the woman he loved.

He still couldn't believe how into it she was. She liked everything he did to her. More than liked. She wanted him to do it again and again.

The truth was, she'd outlasted him. Only because he'd been sleep deprived, of course. But still, it was a first.

And speaking of sleep, with her wrapped around him like spaghetti, he'd slept better than ever. A few more nights like that and he'd be back on his game. Then he'd make it up to her with a sexathon she'd never forget.

A scrawny gray cat hopped up on the seat beside him. “Hello, Mr. Skinny.” He scratched its ears. Its yellow eyes blinked blissfully.

Jan plucked some bacon from his plate. “Mr. Skinny needs a meal.” The cat deigned to accept it from her hand. “They're everywhere,” she said, scratching Mr. Skinny's chin with one finger. “This guy just wandered in the door.”

“It's a Key West thing. Hemingway started it.” Mick broke off more bacon. The cat took it with him when he hopped off the bench and strolled out through the door the way he'd come in.

Mick plugged more pancake into his mouth. He could eat his weight this morning; he'd worked up that much of an appetite.

The waitress stopped by with a refill. “I like a hungry man,” she said with a smile.

His mouth was full, so he saluted her with his mug.

She moved on, and Jan rolled her eyes. “Ten bucks says she puts her number on the bill.”

He didn't take that bet.

When he'd mopped up the last of everything, he pushed his plates away. “I'm ready for a swim.”

“Me too. We can rent bikes at the hotel and ride to the beach.”

Where every Tom, Dick, and Harry would try to get into her suit.

“Pool's closer,” he said. “No crowds. No sweating in the hot sun.” He figured the last argument had appeal. Jan avoided sweat whenever possible.

But not today. “We've done the pool. I want the beach. And we need to hustle. I have wedding stuff all afternoon.”

He stifled a sigh. Miss Stubbornest Person He Knew had her mind made up. The best he could do was stall until the clock ran out.

So he paid with a fifty and waited for change, then decided he needed a coffee to go. He made Jan hold the cup while he used the bathroom, then checked his e-mail while she tapped her foot.

When he started reading the bulletin board, she threw up her hands. “That's it, I'm leaving.”

He caught up to her at the door, then deliberately went the wrong way, counting on her directional impairment.

Sure enough, she followed along cluelessly. But when he tried putting his arm around her shoulders, she slithered out from under it. “Quit dragging your feet,” she said, charging ahead.

She pulled up when they reached the waterfront, staring at the sailboats berthed at the docks. “This isn't right.”

He bit back a smile at the puzzled look on her face. “Guess I took a wrong turn somewhere.”

She squinted accusingly. “You did this on purpose.”

“Would I do that?”

“Why don't you want to go to the beach? You love the beach. You spend half the summer on the Cape.”

“Exactly.” He spread his palms. “Beaches are the same everywhere. I've never been to Key West. Don't you want to see the town?”

Hands on her hips, she turned a three-sixty until she was facing him again. “There, I saw it. Now I'm going to the beach.”

She set out at a march, heading who knows where. He tagged along, trying not to stare at her ass. The shorts barely covered it. The fingerprints on the backs of her thighs had him feeling both guilty and proprietary, at once.

At the first four-way intersection, she stopped, looking in three directions like a sailor lost at sea. He came up behind her and looped his arms around her waist. He would have nuzzled her neck but she busted loose, taking off at a clip in what happened by chance to be the right direction.

“We should stop for sandwiches,” he called.

She whirled. “You can
not
be hungry.”

“To take to the beach.” He caught up to her and ran a hand up her arm. She goose-bumped but didn't stay still for the kiss he was craving.

“We'll be lucky to get an hour on the sand,” she threw over her shoulder. “You'll survive without a sandwich.”

Frustrated, he trotted after her, catching her elbow. “Babe. We're supposed to be relaxing here.”

She tried to shake him off, but this time he wasn't letting go. Stepping in front of her, he put his hands on her shoulders. The troubled look in her eyes sent a chill down his spine.

He forced a casual smile. “Keep running away from me and I'm gonna think you don't like me.”

“I like you,” she said.

Not exactly what he wanted to hear. “I should've said love me. I'm gonna think you don't love me.”

Her eyes fell. “I'll always love you, Mick. You're my best friend.”

Really, really not what he wanted to hear. The warmth that had bloomed in his chest overnight seeped out through the hole she'd just kicked in his stomach.

She lifted her eyes to his, and they were sad. “Listen, Mick, I know this weekend hasn't turned out how we expected. Sharing a room, a bed, well, things got confused.” She took a breath, blew it out. “I want you to know I'm not looking for a repeat of last night. Your friendship is the most important thing in the world to me. I won't do anything to jeopardize it.”

His heart cracked. He'd been so sure she was into it. Into him. But now she was shoving him firmly back into BFF territory, where he'd already spent too damn much time.

He fought down panic. Maybe she didn't grasp what last night meant to him. What
she
meant to him.

“Listen, Jan, I don't know what you think happened last night, but I loved every minute of it—”

“Me too,” she cut in. “It was exactly the kind of experience I was looking for. I appreciate it, and believe me, I don't expect anything more from you.” Her smile was tight. “In fact, if you want to take Barbie up on her offer tonight, you won't get any argument from me.”

With that, she stepped around him and kept walking, leaving his jaw on the sidewalk and his heart in jagged little pieces.

T
H
EY TRUDGED BACK
to the hotel in silence, parting ways in the lobby. While Mick disappeared toward the pool, Jan went to their room. She could hardly bear to step inside. Everything reminded her of Mick and all the things they'd said and done on the bed, in the shower. Tears stung her eyes.

Housekeeping hadn't come yet, so she dug her boxers out of the rumpled sheets. Her hands trembled as she tucked them into her suitcase.

Her torn T-shirt, she tossed in the trash. It hurt to look at it. To remember how she felt when Mick tore it. Like the most desirable woman in the world.

And for one night she had been. Mick made her feel that way. Sexy and precious and loved.

But then again, Mick made all the girls feel that way, which is why they got so pissed when he backed off the next day, or a few days after that.

Well, she wouldn't get pissed. She wouldn't be a crybaby, or a bitch. She wouldn't dump the wedding cake over his head.

She'd just carry on as if last night changed nothing. As if she could go back to watching him bed a different woman every night without knowing exactly what he'd do to those women and what they'd do to him . . .

Enough.

She gave up on the beach idea. Getting away from Mick was her new priority. Time and space were what she needed to put last night behind her and get her game face on.

She'd tell him she was leaving for Julie's and be on her way.

She found him in a rocking chair, gazing out at the pool. His expression when he looked up at her was blank, his face paler than usual. The poor guy was sleep deprived. At least he'd gotten a few hours of rest in between—

She nipped off that train of thought. It wouldn't take her anywhere good.

“I guess I'll skip the beach,” she said.

His lips curved in a shadow of his usual smile. “After all the grief you gave me.”

“It's what I do best.” She went for her usual flip tone, but it rang hollow in her ears. “Anyway, I'm heading over to Julie's now. She's probably a nervous wreck.”

“Probably.” He returned his gaze to the water. “Coming back before the wedding?”

She'd rather not, but Mick was her wedding guest. She couldn't strand him. “Sure. The wedding's at four-thirty, so I'll come back around three-thirty and get dressed here.”

He nodded, but a muscle ticked in his jaw.

“Okay then, you're all right without me?” She laughed awkwardly. “What am I saying? This is Key West, you can find plenty to do.”

He threw her a bitter glance. “You bet,” he said sharply. “I'm sure Barbie's around somewhere.” He craned his neck. “Yep, there she is. You run along now. Have fun with the wedding stuff.”

All the blood drained from Jan's head. Her knees wobbled and she reached out to prop a hand on the wall.

Mick rose, and for an instant she thought—hoped—he meant to take her in his arms and laugh at his own joke. But he didn't even look at her, just walked a circle around her and disappeared inside.

He was pissed and he wanted her to know it.

Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Barbie moving among the plants with a watering can. Was Mick really
that
pissed? Pissed enough to go there? Could she even blame him if he did, when she herself had stupidly suggested he spend the night with Barbie?

And what in God's name had possessed her to do that? It was the very last thing she wanted.

The scone in her stomach had turned to cement. She sat down in Mick's rocker, still warm from his butt.

His butt. Wow. Until last night, she'd only imagined it. But it was so much better bare than even his tightest jeans had hinted. Hard and muscled and perfectly indented on the sides.

Rocking the chair with one foot, she closed her eyes and conjured up his scent: musk and beer and a light sheen of sweat. Sounded gross, but he smelled like sex.

Pleasure rippled through her stomach, then lower; a flutter and a clench.

And inevitably her thoughts turned to the other part of his body she'd never seen until last night. Her first good look—in the tiny bathroom before they'd squeezed into the shower—had confirmed all the rumors.

Mick was hung.

He knew it too, because he'd been careful with her, so careful, until he was sure she could handle him. Then he'd turned himself loose, a lion unchained.

And God, she'd loved it. She was built to be to be handled by Mick. He'd touched every inch of her, lit her skin on fire, melted her bones.

The things he'd said to her—the tender, and the dirty—brought a hot flush to her cheeks. Recalling the deep rumble of his voice in her ear, she brought her hand to her throat, touched the mark he'd left on her, hidden under her hair.

He'd been so into her. She wanted to believe she was special to him. Yet knowing how carried away they'd been, she could dismiss everything he'd done and said as a product of the heat of the moment.

Everything but three little words.

I love you.

As far as she knew, he'd never said it to any other woman before—if he had, it would surely have made news.