Yours for the Night (5 page)

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, sounding disappointed, which floated her heart and weakened her resolve. He was disappointed that she was leaving, and she took a moment to soak that up. Some guys she had been with couldn’t wait to get her out the door after the good part was over.

He nodded, yawning. “I am a little jet-lagged after the flight and then getting recruited into the wedding. And I have to be there extra early to get the tux refitted before we’re good to go.”

It was a credible excuse for both of them, and one she was thankful for. Sort of.

“Do you mind if I use your shower?” she asked, cutting to the chase.

She took one last, long look and wondered if she wasn’t completely crazy for not crawling right back into that bed and having her way with him again.

“Not at all. Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, his eyes telling her he had more in mind than washing up.

Tiffany nodded, unable to repress her enthusiasm for the idea.

“I’d like that.”

She still planned to leave afterward—to stay strong—but she wasn’t stupid.

3

T
IFFANY
HAD
NEVER
enjoyed a wedding more. Several people asked her what was different about her—had she colored her hair? Changed her make-up?

She couldn’t tell them the reason for her extra shine was having been well and truly done and done again by Garrett, who stood with Ed and the other men by the side of the altar. Even when all other eyes were on Isabel—and rightly so—Tiffany could feel Garrett’s on her. It made it hard to breathe, wanting him so much. She’d never been quite this fully in lust before.

They’d barely said five words since arriving at the church, since she’d spent all of her time with the bride and other attendants, and he was with Ed and his groomsmen. As they all walked out the door in a shower of birdseed and flower petals, guests and the bridal party milled around and chatted as the photographer grabbed them for photo-taking opportunities. The park was lovely, with the Golden Gate towering majestically in the background, its red towers grand against a pure blue sky.

“The weather is just perfect,” Tiffany said, tipping her face up to the sun and smiling at the bright fall sky. “It’s like a picture.”

“It’s a beautiful day,” Garrett agreed, handsome as sin in his classic tux, which made him even more celebrity-like. “The wedding was very nice, too.”

“You know, in that tux you look more like a spy than a bodyguard,” Tiffany commented, tapping her chin as she assessed him playfully. “You’re too refined to be a bodyguard. Aren’t they supposed to be bruisers who have tattoos and wear leather? You’re so nice,” she teased with a smile.

He laughed out loud. “I think you’re confusing bodyguards with bouncers, but are you saying I’m not a tough guy?”

“Not at all. I bet you are tough. I paid close attention to every muscle under that suit last night,” she said, sending him a flirty look. “If you recall.”

He grinned, rocking back on his heels. “Oh, I do. So you should also know that I’m not all that refined or polite, and what we did last night was definitely not
nice,
” he said silkily, reaching to discreetly draw his fingers down the length of her spine before cupping her bottom through her dress.

Tiffany shivered at the touch. She hadn’t slept a moment after returning home, instead reliving every single second since she’d met Garrett—especially the ones at his hotel room. It had been hard to get out of bed, and nearly impossible to focus on the wedding, but somehow, she’d managed to do what she had to.

Now, she wished they were anywhere but here in this crowd. The way Garrett talked to her, the way he’d been looking at her since their eyes had met at the head of the aisle told her that he wanted more.

So did she.

“On the contrary, I think the things we did were
very
nice,” she argued under her breath, enjoying the secret repartee as they smiled at other wedding guests who walked by.

“If you thought that was
nice,
then maybe I need to work harder at living up to my badass bodyguard image,” he said, and the look he sent her made her wonder what bad-boy secrets Garrett might be hiding.

She was dying to find out, but it was only supposed to be that one time. Just one night.

But that wasn’t exactly realistic, was it? They were, for all intents and purposes, each others’ wedding date. He was here out of town, not knowing many other people; she couldn’t just ditch him, after all. The wedding was kind of like a vacation weekend; their little fling could last until the wedding was over, and then they would be, too.

Tiffany’s skin was warm even though there was a cool breeze, and she turned to face him.

“I suppose I could give you another chance to show me how bad you are,” she said, playing it cool even as her heart beat a little faster at the thought of being with Garrett again.

He stepped closer. “Oh, I can be very bad,” he promised, just as suave.

“Prove it,” she breathed.

She so very, very much wanted to know, but she didn’t expect it when he slid an arm around her waist and scooped her next to him, taking them both around the other side of the tall shrubs into a small, secluded grotto.

Large boulders had been arranged with smaller, sculpted rocks into a secluded sitting area that was fragrant with lush flowers and a garden that made the spot seem as if it were truly an escape from the hustle and bustle of the world. The air was slightly cooler in the shaded spot, but Garrett’s lips were hot as they captured hers in a kiss that was anything but polite.

His tongue tangled with hers as he slipped his fingers beneath the low scoop of her neckline to play with a nipple as the other was bunching itself in the skirt of her dress, lifting it up.

“Garrett, everyone is right over—”

He moved his mouth to her ear, nipped her earlobe and ordered, “I know. Be quiet. Not a sound. They could hear,” he cautioned.

Her breath caught at his tone, apprehension erased when he kissed her until objecting was not on her mind at all.

As his hands made their way along the garters she wore, his very appreciative, guttural curse told her he enjoyed the sexy discovery. Tiffany was pretty sure she’d never been so turned on when his hand slipped into the lace scrap of panties she wore. She held her breath in anticipation of his touch, but then, to her surprise, he looped his hand through and tore them from her with a single pull.

“Gar—” His name came out on a squeak, but he gave her a warning look. She pressed her lips shut, unsure what he was going to do next, but wanting desperately to find out.

She watched as he took the lace from under her dress, and pushed the scrap into his pants pocket before dropping to his knees and pushing her skirt up enough that he could see her.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, running his fingers under the strap of the garter again. Tiffany reached out to brace her hand on the rocky wall of the grotto behind her. She expected to feel his fingers on her, but she drew in a sharp breath when he parted her thighs and the warmth of his tongue slid along the soft, sensitive skin of her sex.

Biting her lip to keep from moaning out loud, she peeked toward the corner of the grotto, and jerked away, her skirt falling into place as she heard voices and saw two bridesmaids walking around the edge of the shrubs.

Garrett must have seen as well and pretended to be looking for something on the ground as the two approached.

“Ah, there it is,” he said with satisfaction, standing and putting what had to be nothing in his pocket.

Tiffany tried to get her breathing under control, her entire body hot with the fires he had kindled.

“Tiffany! We were looking for you. The photographer needs you. Both of you,” Mary said, and then paused. Looking back and forth from Garrett to Tiffany for a few seconds, she smiled wickedly.

“But I’m sure he can wait for five more minutes,” Mary said with a chuckle, still grinning back at Tiffany as the women left the grotto.

Tiffany groaned to herself, her cheeks warm. Mary wouldn’t say anything, but she had definitely been able to tell that Tiffany and Garrett weren’t sharing friendly conversation.

“That was close,” she whispered.

“It certainly was…but all the more exciting for it,” he whispered back, winking at her as he held his arm out for her to take. She did, appreciative of the small gesture.

“Every time I reach into my pocket today, I’ll have these to touch, and every time I look at you, we’ll both know how I got them and that you are naked underneath that dress. Just let me know if you want me to finish what we started.”

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to control the surge of lust that ran through her at the thought of that happening. Words abandoned her. The wedding reception hall held endless possibilities. Lounges, coat rooms, closets.

She shoved a playful elbow into his side, her cheeks warming though she loved every second of it. The next half hour was taken up with yet more picture-taking, but Tiffany had a hard time taking her eyes off Garrett. As they filed into limos and headed to the reception hall, she sat close to him, another couple she didn’t know as well sitting opposite and deep in their own conversation.

Leaning in close, Garrett whispered in her ear, “Was that bad enough for you?”

“It was a start,” she said primly, smoothing the skirt of her dress, and feeling deliciously naughty about being bare underneath.

“A start,” he repeated lightly, looking at her warmly. “I like the sound of that.”

Everything about him turned her on. Still, she argued with herself.

“So much for not being impulsive,” she mumbled to herself more than him.

“What?”

More time with Garrett sounded like everything she wanted, and while it was true that in the past, she’d jumped into relationships without laying down rules, or knowing what was coming, this she was going into with her eyes wide open, right?

No, she had to stick to her guns.

“I really like you, but—”

“Don’t worry Tiffany,” he said easily. “I didn’t mean to imply I was looking for anything more than enjoying what’s left of our wedding fling,” he added, close to her ear, his tongue flicking the lobe and making her breath catch.

“Oh. Then yes. Absolutely,” she said, breathlessly.

She wanted as much of Garrett as she could get in the time they had left. But like Cinderella, when this party was over, so were they.

* * *

G
ARRETT
WOKE
UP
late, turning over in a tangle of flowered sheets that smelled like lavender and Tiffany.

They had ended up back at her place this time. He punched down into a soft, luxuriously full pillow, coming awake slowly and thinking he had not had that much fun at a wedding, ever. Not even his own, he realized with a pang of guilt.

His wedding to Lainey had been beautiful, elegant and quiet. There hadn’t been the raucous partying that had followed yesterday’s event. Normally Garrett might have found it not quite his speed, but with Tiffany sparkling at his side—and her panties in his pocket—he’d joined in and had a great time.

They’d had an even better time back here, too.

Rolling over, it didn’t take long to see that he was alone in the big, soft bed, and there was a note on her pillow. She’d said she didn’t have to work on Sundays, but apparently there was some kind of crisis and she was needed at the store she managed.

Garrett—last night was wonderful. (Oh, and the coat room was pretty amazing, too.) I’d hoped we could have breakfast together, but there’s a problem at work. Help yourself to anything to eat, or there is a nice place on the corner. Thanks for…everything. J Tiff.

He couldn’t help a tiny pang of disappointment. While they both agreed that this was a sex-only, weekend-only thing—a wedding hook-up, as she called it—he’d hoped to spend some time with her this morning. They might be temporary, but he liked Tiffany. He would have enjoyed taking her to breakfast, or talking over coffee, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. He’d slept so hard that he hadn’t heard her phone or heard her leave, also unusual. Normally, he was a very light sleeper.

He smiled to himself. Tiffany had a way of wearing a guy out. He made his way to the shower, grimacing as remembered the only clothing he had to put back on was the tux, which he also had to return to Ed at some point. He didn’t like not seeing Tiffany again—not even to say goodbye. She had certainly helped him enjoy the first days—and nights—of his vacation more than he ever thought he would.

After his shower, he dressed and headed for the front door, though curiosity got the best of him as he walked through the main rooms of the apartment. He couldn’t say he’d noticed much about the decor the night before as they had stumbled in and headed directly for bed.

Her bedroom had been airy and feminine; the rest of the house was more classic, with clean lines to the furniture and southwestern tones and touches adding color to an otherwise modestly decorated room.

Out here, there were shelves full of books—every mystery and suspense series he could remember reading or knowing about, including all of the original Sherlock Holmes collection—and some he’d never heard of. She had a DVD collection that was just as impressive, with everything from
Veronica Mars
to
Monk
. On a reading desk where a pink laptop sat was a miniature action figure of Sherlock Holmes.

Tiffany was a mystery junkie. Somehow he would have pegged her for more of a romance reader. Garrett liked to read, though he tended to read broadly—fiction and nonfiction, popular and more obscure literary books as well as plays and essays. He enjoyed a good suspense novel now and then, and had even read one of his mother’s romances once, as she had dared him to do it. It was pretty good, actually.

But not a single clinching couple graced Tiffany’s shelves. It was all guns and shadowy figures running into the night on her book covers.

Given her light, effervescent personality, it was all a surprise. Tiffany’s fun-loving, sexy demeanor didn’t suggest someone who liked to sit in the deep leather chairs by the heavy bookcases and read about grisly murder in dark alleys.

But he liked the contrast; it showed him there was more to her than met the eye. Maybe that’s why she intrigued him. The discovery deepened the nudge of regret about not seeing her again, but they’d both had a good time, and that was that. Now he had the rest of his vacation to enjoy.

Sherlock was standing on an ornate business card with her name on it, Tiffany A. Walker, Assitant Manager, Jarvis Jewelry, complete with phone and address. An idea formed. Maybe he could stop by, see her and just get a coffee, if she had time, and say a proper goodbye. It seemed like the right thing to do. He would call after he got back to the hotel and changed, and hopefully she would be up for it.

Outside, he hailed a taxi out on the quiet Sunday morning street and headed back to the hotel, contemplating his next adventure. He was pretty sure nothing was going to be as adventurous as being with Tiffany, he thought, an edge of loneliness cutting through his otherwise happy mood.