The Wedding She Always Wanted (14 page)

She couldn’t deny her curiosity about the woman Javy had once been engaged to, a woman who had once settled Javy down.

Even in the faint lighting, Emily saw Maria’s eyes widen. “My son told you about her?”

Javy hadn’t told her much, and Emily suddenly regretted asking. If he’d wanted her to know,
he
would have told her. His refusal was a reminder that she shouldn’t let herself get too close, a reminder Emily feared she had ignored.

Shaking her head, Emily pushed out of the chair. “It doesn’t matter. I should go back.”

Maria caught her arm before she could leave. “It is not because you are different from Stephanie that I worry,” she said, a hint of sorrow pulling at her features. “It is because you are too much the same.”

The same? She and Javy’s ex-fiancée were somehow alike? The questions swirled through Emily’s thoughts, but when Maria’s fingers slipped away with the faint jingle of bracelets at her wrist, Emily backed toward the sliding-glass doors. If Javy didn’t want to tell her about Stephanie, she wasn’t going to ask.

And while she might not know much of anything about Javy’s past, she
did
know him. Well enough to point out to Maria, “You should have let Javy remodel the patio and the bar. It would have meant a lot to him, more than you seem to know.”

At the end of the evening any number of people could have driven Javy home. He was pretty sure he could have managed it himself. After his first beer, he’d switched to margaritas, but with Alex behind the bar, guaranteeing the drinks were more tequila than lime, Javy didn’t want to risk it.

So, without any real planning on either of their parts, amid hugs of farewell and high fives, he and Emily drifted toward her car.

She filled the ride with idle small talk, mostly about the restaurant and the following night’s reopening. “It will be a huge success, just like tonight. I’m glad I could come.”

“So am I.”

“I had a really good time.”

“Despite what my mother said to you?” he drawled.

Emily’s gaze cut to his before refocusing on the road ahead. The passing streetlights flashed over her profile like the flickering of a black-and-white television set. “How did you—”

“I saw you come in from the patio, and I know my mother was already outside.”

He doubted Maria had missed the chance to say something to Emily about their relationship. His mother had been bemoaning his single status for years. It was one of the reasons he usually kept the women he dated far, far away from Maria.

The last thing he’d needed was his mother putting ideas in anyone’s head. Until now. Until Emily. He wouldn’t mind so much if his mother put some of those ideas into
her
head.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said finally.

“Emily—”

“It’s not important, Javy,” she insisted. “Really.”

And maybe that was part of the problem. He wanted their relationship to matter. He wanted it to be important, life altering. He wanted their relationship to be forever. That realization had his stomach churning, as if he’d had a dozen or so margaritas, instead of two or three.

“I think,” he said, actually
hoping
, “it might be important.”

But despite the opening he gave her, Emily didn’t speak for the rest of the ride.

Javy waited until they arrived at his place and he invited Emily inside before pressing the point. “What did my mother say to you?”

Seated on his couch, which was definitely built more for comfort than style, Emily maintained perfect posture. She smoothed the skirt of her dress over her knees. “She’s your mother. She wants you to be happy.”

“And?”

“She wants to see you settle down.” Nothing Emily said
came as a surprise until she added, “She doesn’t think it’s going to happen.”

“She doesn’t?” His mother was giving up on him? That didn’t sound like Maria at all. And wouldn’t that be ironic? For her to give up on the idea of him settling down just as he found the one woman he wanted to get serious about.

“I thought maybe it had to do with Stephanie.” Emily turned to face him on the couch, drawing up one knee and distracting him with her bare skin and a toned, shapely calf. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, and your mother really didn’t tell me anything, but I want to apologize for going behind your back. It wasn’t right and—”

“And you shouldn’t have had to do it,” Javy interrupted. “I should have told you.”

“You don’t have to….”

“I want to,” he insisted. “Stephanie was my first serious girlfriend. We dated at the end of our senior year in high school. We thought…
I
thought we were in love,” he amended, since to this day he still wasn’t sure if Stephanie had loved him or had simply seen him as a ticket to freedom.

“What was she like?” Emily asked.

He expected a certain amount of curiosity; he would have felt the same had he not already heard so much about Emily’s ex. But something more—a reluctance—was hidden behind the question.

Maybe she’s afraid you’re gonna act like a jerk and cut her off the way you did last time she asked
, his conscience goaded.

Hoping to wipe the hesitancy from her eyes, he insisted, “You can ask me anything you want, Emily.”

She nodded, but the worry didn’t entirely disappear.

Determined to tell her everything, he said, “Stephanie was beautiful. She looked…Well, I guess she looked a little like you. She was blonde and had blue eyes.” But that was where
the similarities ended, and maybe that was why he’d never paid much attention to the likeness before. “Stephanie was troubled and…fragile.”

“Fragile? How?” With Emily’s focus locked on the floral pattern of her skirt, Javy couldn’t see her expression, but he could almost sense her frown.

“Her parents divorced when she was eleven, and they spent the next several years bouncing from one family court to another, fighting over custody of her. She felt like a pawn, and for as long as I knew her, all she talked about was the day she could finally escape.”

He should have realized that he was little more than a ticket out of town. At eighteen, he, too, had had big plans of striking out on his own, not because he’d had a bad home life, but simply because, well, hell, he’d been eighteen. He’d thought he knew it all and was ready to see it all, do it all. When Stephanie agreed to his every suggestion, he’d believed it was because she loved him and wanted to be with him, no matter what the adventure.

Too late had he realized all she wanted was the getaway car; it didn’t really matter who was driving.

He went on. “I proposed the night of our graduation. It seemed like the perfect time. We were riding high on success, and nothing could stop us. Or at least that’s what I thought.”

“What happened?”

“I told my parents our plans, and my dad flipped out. I’d never seen him so angry. Everything we said to each other built this wall of anger and bitterness until, finally, neither one of us could get through to the other. And then…my dad had a heart attack. It was only a few weeks after our fight. The doctors said stress might have been the cause….”

“Oh, Javy.”

Reaching out, Emily took his hands in hers and let her
touch convey all she couldn’t say. Her presence, her compassion, did more to sooth his guilt than any words ever could.

“I thought graduating from high school and getting engaged meant I was an adult. I found out real fast what growing up really meant. My mother was at my dad’s side twenty-four-seven, and that put me in charge at the restaurant. I had spent my whole life around that place and had worked there since I was in junior high, but running it—that was completely different. I couldn’t just be one of the guys anymore. I was the boss, whether they liked it or not. Whether
I
liked it or not.”

Overnight he’d had responsibility thrust on him, and he could now admit, in some ways he’d been running from it ever since.

“I told Stephanie I couldn’t leave as long as my dad was in the hospital. I still wanted to get married, just not as soon as we’d planned. I expected her to understand and fooled myself into thinking she did.”

“What happened?”

“My dad never left the hospital. The doctors thought he was improving, but he had a second heart attack and…” He swallowed hard, the memories still raw after all these years. Regret clawed at him for the fight they’d had and the missed chance of ever making amends. “After that, there was no way I could leave town with Stephanie. But we could still get married, find an apartment near the restaurant, start our life together.”

Looking back now, Javy didn’t know how he’d thought their marriage could work. His father had been right when he’d called him selfish and irresponsible. He and Stephanie had been self-centered kids, focused only on what they wanted. And while tragedy had forced a change in his plans, Stephanie’s plans had remained the same.

He continued. “I tried spending as much time as I could with her, but my mother was in no shape to be running the restaurant. Sometimes I felt like I lived there, so I don’t suppose
I can blame Stephanie for feeling abandoned. And then, one day, I found a note stuck on the windshield of my car.”

Emily squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

He waited for the dark memories to sweep over him like a summer monsoon, filled with flashes of anger and earsplitting roars of protest, but like a storm that dissipated over the desert, all he felt was the faint brush of relief.

“I couldn’t go after her. Couldn’t just take off after I’d promised my mother that I could handle running the restaurant and that she didn’t have to worry about a thing. And then there was the fire.”

Even after ten years, guilt sliced through his gut with the memory. As the manager, it had been his job to do a final walk-through of the restaurant each night. To this day, he would swear he’d checked the stoves before leaving that night. But exhaustion and constant worry had taken a toll, and while he’d been so
sure
, he’d also been so wrong.

“We were at home when we got the phone call from the fire department.” He would never forget the look in his mother’s eyes—not a look of anger or devastation, which he could have handled, but a look of utter defeat. He’d seen a woman who simply had nothing left to lose. “It was my fault.”

“No,” Emily protested.

“I should have checked the kitchen one more time.”

Emily shifted closer, bracing one hand on his shoulder and curving her fingers around his jaw to turn his face toward her. “That doesn’t make it your fault. It was an accident. You said your mother wasn’t in any shape to run the restaurant. But what kind of shape were you in?”

He’d been a mess. His father’s death and Stephanie’s desertion had hit him hard. Add the responsibility of managing the restaurant on top of that, and it was little surprise that something had to give. But for it to be his family’s restaurant…

“It was not your fault,” Emily insisted. “You need to stop blaming yourself. To let go and move on.” Javy opened his mouth to argue, but she beat him to it. “Why didn’t you push harder to remodel the restaurant?”

“It’s like you said. My mother wants to keep everything as it was when my father was still alive.”

“Is that the reason? Or is it because you think she won’t trust your ideas? Because
you
don’t trust those ideas?”

He didn’t like the thought that he’d let failure control his life, but he had. Between the fire at the restaurant and Stephanie’s desertion, he’d changed. Oh, he’d told himself and everyone else that all he wanted out of life was to have some fun and enjoy his freedom, but he’d lied. He wasn’t having fun, and he wasn’t free. He was afraid and running scared.

But as he gazed into Emily’s eyes—at the understanding, the concern, the confidence he saw there—everything inside him slowed, stilled and stopped.

He didn’t have to run anymore. Not when he’d finally found the one place he wanted to be and the one person he wanted to be with.

W
ith Javy staring at her so intently, Emily wondered if she’d pushed too far. If like the night of their date, she was going to ruin a wonderful evening by asking too many questions.

Her stomach twisted at the idea of Javy pulling away from her again, but it was a risk she had to take. She couldn’t go back to trying to make everyone else happy by keeping her mouth shut with a smile.

Not even for Javy. Especially not for Javy.

“You know the changes will only make the restaurant that much better, and you deserve the chance to prove it to yourself and to Maria,” she said.

“I know.”

“And the only way to do that is to talk to her again, to try and make her see…” So caught up in her own argument, she didn’t even realize she’d won. “You what?”

He chuckled at her confusion. “There is such a thing as quitting while you’re ahead, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever been ahead before. I didn’t realize I was there.”

All teasing aside, she drew her right leg up onto the couch. Javy caught her around the waist, steadying her, as she cupped his face in her hands. His evening beard scraped against her palms, a rough contrast as she ran her thumb over his lips.

“I think…” Emily felt the brush of breath and movement against her flesh as he spoke, and a shiver raced from her fingertips up her arm to scatter goose bumps across her chest. “I think there’s a way for both of us to get what we want. For my mother to keep the restaurant and her memories intact, and for me to get what I want, too.”

“How?”

“I’ll tell you,” he promised, “but first I need some time to work out the details. And second, I don’t want to talk about the restaurant or my mother or my past anymore tonight.”

Sliding her fingers back into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, she tilted her head to the side. “Hmm. What do you want to talk about?”

Judging by the heat in his eyes as his gaze dropped to her lips, she expected him to say he didn’t want to talk at all. But he surprised her, answering, “Let’s talk about you.”

“Me? I think we’ve already determined that you know everything about me.”

“Not…everything.” His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips to her breasts, sending flames of heat licking over her body. And despite his earlier words, she didn’t think talking was what he had in mind.

But it was enough to remind her of the one thing about her she still hadn’t mentioned. Emily opened her mouth, but she still couldn’t bring herself to blurt out the truth. And when
Javy did as he’d suggested and started talking about her, a single sentence or coherent thought was nowhere to be found.

His words, his voice, his lips poured over her. Emily had heard compliments before, but never murmured so intimately against her skin and never spoken in Spanish. A bubble of giddy laughter broke from her lips, despite the hand she instantly slapped over her mouth.

Javy gazed at her, a question in his eyes, but confidence in his smile. “Should I even ask?”

“I was—” another giggle interrupted “—just thinking my father was right.”

His dark brow slammed down in a frown. “Your father?”

Emily nodded, fisting his shirt in one hand as she pulled him close again. “Spanish is, oh, so practical.”

His lips kicked up in a smile. “Ah, the benefits of a prep-school education. Tell me, Miss Wilson, what else did you learn?”

Not nearly as much as he could teach her, Emily thought as he eased her back against the couch pillows. She sank into the softness, a definite contrast to the strength and hardness of his body as he followed her down. He claimed her lips again even as his fingers drifted toward the buttons on her dress. Could he feel the way her heart was about to pound out of her chest?

As his hand closed over her breast, she forgot to care. The pleasure of his touch burned all nerves, all hesitation, even embarrassment. If only it would burn away the satin and lace of her bra, so she could feel the heat of his flesh against her own. Then suddenly the barrier was gone, brushed aside by impatient hands or reduced to ash, Emily didn’t know. She could barely focus on anything beyond the play of his fingers against her breast and the desire he drew from an endless well inside of her.

But despite the pleasure of his touch, Emily needed more. She needed to know, to see, to
feel
that Javy wanted her as much as she wanted him. With his experience, of course, he could turn her on. But she needed to know she could do the same, had to believe this meant
something
to Javy beyond the usual seduction….

Following his lead, she held his gaze as her fingers found the buttons on his shirt and slowly slid each one free. His skin was hot and smooth against her palms, and she couldn’t get enough, not only of touching him, but of his reaction. The way his eyes darkened, the way his breath caught and his pulse pounded, the way his stomach muscles clenched as her fingers drifted lower.

If she had any questions about the intensity of Javy’s response, she had her answer when he caught her mouth in a kiss that seared away any doubts. His kiss still held a hint of salt from the margaritas, as well as a taste that was uniquely his own. Emily sought out more of the flavor, rimming his lips the same way the salt had rimmed the glass, until Javy took control, his tongue plunging deep.

Desire curled her hips into his, and reality intruded, whispering through her conscience the words she should have already said before she let things go this far….

When he broke the kiss for a brief moment, she tried to explain. “Javy, I…” Her voice little more than a husky whisper, Emily swallowed and tried again. “You should, um, probably know I’ve never done this before.”

She felt his lips curve into a smile against her neck. “Made love on a couch?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from inside her. “That, too.”

He froze against her, the meaning of her words clearer the second time around. He pulled back with an expression of so much shock, it might have been comical if she hadn’t felt so much like crying. “You…”

“I’m sorry.” Regret clogged her throat, and she swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t want you to stop. I should have—”

“Let your first time take place on the couch in my living room?”

“Yes,” she answered, but with enough of a question in her voice to make Javy’s head drop to her shoulder in a half laugh, half groan.

“No,” he countered, then repeated in a stronger voice, “No.” He levered his body off hers, the effort it took obvious in the tension knotting his shoulders and arms. He sank back against the couch cushions, his breathing still ragged and his gaze still touched with disbelief. “Your first time should be special. It should be perfect.”

“It would be,” she whispered. As long as her first time was with Javy, she knew it would be.

But despite the tension and desire still radiating from every plane and angle of his body, stretched out beside her, Javy shook his head.

She’d feared this would happen. Tears burning her throat, Emily wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She’d known everything would change once she told Javy the truth and that a man of his experience wouldn’t be interested in someone with
no
experience.

“How? I mean, you were
engaged
,” he pointed out, “and you never—”

“It was a short engagement, and I wanted to wait,” she confessed, well aware that if she’d felt for her ex-fiancé one-tenth of what she felt for Javy, she never would have made the suggestion. “Todd agreed easily enough, but of course, his idea of waiting for me meant sleeping with the maid.”

An embarrassment she hadn’t felt moments earlier now boiled up inside her, heating her face and escaping like steam
from every pore. Her fingers trembled on the buttons Javy had slid away so easily. She needed to leave now, before she added to her humiliation by breaking down in tears. She started to push to her feet, but Javy caught her by the wrist.

“What—”

She didn’t have the chance to finish her question before he stretched out on the couch and pulled her down beside him. Reaching overhead with his free hand, he clicked off the light. Only a thin square of light outlined the blinds on the front window, and their combined breathing sounded too loud—and too intimate—in the darkness.

He pressed her head to his shoulder. “Close your eyes.”

“What—what are you doing?” she demanded, struggling against his hold, still intent on escaping her own inadequacies.

“I’m holding you,” he answered, stating the obvious.

“I know, but you don’t even want—”

His hoarse laughter cut off the words Emily never meant to say. “Emily, you have no idea….”

“Then why stop?”

“Because you’re…and I didn’t…” Seeming to have as much trouble explaining his reasoning as Emily was in accepting it, Javy exhaled a sigh, which only settled her closer to him. “I’ve been imagining making love to you since I saw you at Connor and Kelsey’s engagement party,” he confessed, his momentary loss for words over. “But I never imagined our first time would be your first time. I want to do this right.”

Since it was her first time, Emily thought maybe she should be the one to decide what was right, but at least they would have that time. Relieved her inexperience hadn’t completely scared him off, she said, “You’re going to hold me while I sleep? All night?”

“Yes.”

“But—”

Even in the semidarkness, his fingers unerringly found her lips and silenced her with a touch. “At least there’ll be a first for one of us tonight.”

Emily smiled as she snuggled next him, resting her head on his chest and her hand on his heart. Because although sleeping in a man’s arms would be a first for her, Emily didn’t think
she
was the one Javy was talking about.

Emily woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the living-room blinds. Waking up in an unfamiliar place, still dressed and lying on a couch, she would have expected to suffer a moment or two of disorientation. But she remembered every minute of the previous night up to the moment she fell asleep in Javy’s arms.

Now, however, she was alone, battling feelings of disappointment and relief. She would have loved to wake up in his arms, too, but having a few minutes to herself before seeing him again sounded like a good idea. She could wash her face, brush her hair and remind herself that even though she was falling for Javy like a skydiver ready to jump out of a plane without a parachute, nothing—not even last night, as amazing as it had been—said he felt the same.

She was going to hit the ground hard. But until then, Emily thought the best thing she could do was to close her eyes and pretend she could fly.

Sitting up and stretching her arms overhead, she caught sight of a piece of paper on the coffee table, amid a few remote controls and a stack of sports magazines.
Out of coffee. Be back soon. Make yourself at home.

Emily smiled. Judging by his abbreviated note and slashing cursive, coffee was a must in the morning.

Feeling like a bit of a sneak despite having written permission, she made her way down the hall and peeked into an
open doorway. The small guest bath, with its white walls and empty counter, might have lacked extras, but folded on the toilet was a towel, what looked like a pair of navy gym shorts and gray T-shirt, and an unopened toothbrush.

Picking up the small plastic-wrapped box, she pictured a dozen or so stashed away somewhere for morning-after moments exactly like this one, but she thrust the image aside.

“Don’t look down,” she murmured as she set the toothbrush aside.

Fifteen minutes later, Emily stood on the back patio, clean and refreshed, if not exactly stylish. The intense sunlight, promising another typical hot summer day, blazed down on the lawn, which was lined by citrus trees weighed down with lemons and limes. Around the side of the lot, a structure stood separate from the house. She was wondering what Javy stored inside it when the glass door behind her slid open.

“Hey,” he murmured.

Emily turned to face Javy, feeling a little self-conscious when his grin broadened as he took in her bare feet and her arms and legs, left partially exposed by his borrowed—and baggy—clothes. “Morning.”

He handed her a cup of coffee from a travel carrier and leaned in for a kiss that packed far more of a punch than caffeine ever could. He tasted like mint toothpaste, and Emily breathed in the scent of soap and shampoo. The longing to wake up every morning with this man hit hard. Her stomach dropped out of her and the ground gave way as she spun into an out-of-control freefall.

Unaware of the panic screaming through her at terminal velocity, Javy stepped back. His gaze roamed over her from her still-damp hair to her bare feet.

“I have always thought everything you wear looks better
on you than it would on anyone else, and this proves it. Those clothes definitely look better on you than they ever did on me.”

Thanks to years of practice, Emily managed a smile. “Yes, I’m planning on modeling these when we have the charity fashion show,” she said wryly. “I’m sure I’d send the bidding through the roof.”

“I can guarantee it, since I would have to outbid everyone there.”

“That desperate to get your clothes back, huh?”

“I’m that desperate, all right, but not so much about taking them back as taking them off.”

A shiver raced over her skin, reminding Emily how little she wore beneath his clothes. The borrowed shirt was baggy, but the material thin enough to telegraph her reactions. Something she noticed only when his gaze dropped to her breasts.

Just that easily her thoughts were filled with memories of the night before, leaving her feeling weak and ready to pick up where they had left off, with his solid body pressed to hers, his hand at her breast, and nothing to stop them from finishing what they’d started.

But Javy was already dressed for work, and although the reopening party didn’t start until that evening, the restaurant was running specials throughout the day. After all the hard work he’d done, he deserved to show it off.

Taking a deep breath, she searched for a distraction other than how gorgeous he looked in the black slacks and crisp white shirt, which so perfectly set off his dark hair and tanned skin. She gestured at the structure she’d noticed earlier and asked, “What do you keep in there?”