The Wedding Audition (19 page)

So wet. So ready. So his.

Her breath caught and held her hands moving over his back in restless circles. He moved deeper, working his mouth against her harder. She melted on his tongue.

Her release went through her in waves, each lush convulsion making her cry out. When he was sure he’d wrung every ounce of pleasure from her gorgeous body, he lifted her in his arms and shut off the shower. She clung to him, her lips murmuring sweet things in his ear while he juggled a towel awkwardly over them both. He wasn’t even sure she noticed, her mouth moving to his neck. His lips.

She tasted like toothpaste.

He carried her to his bed and tossed her in the center amid sheets still tangled from where they’d left off that morning. He had a sudden urge to see her there every morning. Every night. But he didn’t let himself think about that. Not now. Not when they still had this window of time together.

“I hope you’re going to join me.” She peered up at him through her lashes, her whole body flushed pink from the hot water and pleasure.

“I’m trying to figure out how many ways I can have you before dawn.” He could look at her all night long.

“Maybe you can do your calculations at the same time you’re—.” She gestured toward his body. “You know. Letting me feel you up.”

“
You’re
going to feel
me
up?” Laughing, he covered her, knowing damn well that he couldn’t last long once his body started touching hers.

“Yes.” She wriggled beneath him in a way that made his whole body pay attention.

And that was before her fingers slipped between them to stroke him from base to tip.

“See?” she breathed in his ear, flirty and sweet at the same time.

“I see.” The words cracked in his suddenly dry throat. “But I get to do all the feeling up tonight.”

He palmed her breast, lifting the soft weight of her and circling the sensitive spot that made her moan and open her thighs for him. Grappling along the nightstand for a condom with his other hand, he rolled it on and nudged his way inside her. Deep. Deeper.

She fit him like she was made for him alone. He gripped her hips and sank into her over and over, burning with the need that had ridden him all day. She wrapped her legs around him. Locked her ankles. Held him where she wanted him.

When she came the next time, he hurtled with her, calling her name and holding onto her tight. The pleasure went on and on, the force of all he’d been holding back throttling through him now until he was wrung out and empty. He didn’t let her go. Couldn’t let her go.

For tonight, she was his Annamae. And he had sixteen more days to keep it that way.

*

The next morning,
she stood in the farmhouse’s quiet kitchen, fighting the urge not to cook breakfast.

In her fantasy life, that’s exactly what she’d do. She would invite Bagel and his cat posse outside with her to enjoy the spring sunshine, then she’d pick around the old cottage garden that Wynn had partially resurrected with a few new plantings. With any luck, she’d find some fresh herbs and use them to season some eggs. Maybe make homemade biscuits so the whole place smelled like warm, baking things. The whole thing would be a scene of domestic bliss.

Then she’d wake Wynn and feed him the feast while she watched him eat. Regain his strength so he could take her back to his bed…

Pure fantasy.

She’d had her stolen hours with Wynn. She’d indulged in a blissful night of not thinking so hard. She knew it couldn’t go on this way. Not when there was so much unresolved back home. Her parents’ unorthodox family meeting had reminded her of that.

Sliding down to a seat at the scarred kitchen table, she pulled one of his disposable phones from the plastic package so she could check her voicemail. She’d have to pay him back with one of hers. For now though, she connected to her service and heard her best friend’s voice.

“Hey Annamae, it’s Lindsey.” Her words came out in a rush, sounding nervous and not at all like Lindsey. “I know it’s a hard week for you and I want to respect what you’re going through. I do. But I’m kinda losing it here with my own wedding coming up and if there’s any way on God’s green earth we could hang out for a few hours before I have to say my own vows… Or even if I just knew you’d be there when I walked down the aisle…” She paused to sniff. “Call me, okay? Or just be here for the wedding.”

Frowning, Annamae played the message again, almost not believing her unflappable friend was so distraught. Then again, Annamae knew how much a wedding could shake a girl up. Lindsey needed her.

Not because Annamae was a TV personality or because she was related to a rich, semi-famous family. Lindsey was a real friend who knew her. Annamae. Not the false façade.

And the real Annamae didn’t want to be the kind of person who ran away from trouble. She wanted to be the kind of woman who solved them. She couldn’t be like her father, stepfather, mother or even grandmother. She had to find herself.

In Atlanta.

Where her real life—her friends—waited. She’d been hiding out here, pretending to search for answers when she was really just making excuses for the drama her life had become. That’s not the way grown-ups behaved. And she refused to play a role that was assigned to her anymore.

Getting to her feet, she left the used phone on the table along with a note for Wynn. She’d say goodbye before she left, of course. For now, she just let him know she would be back at the carriage house doing some packing.

Her fantasy time was over.

‡

I
t was bad
enough to wake up alone after nightmares about the shooting.

Wynn was used to that.

But waking up to the sound of Annamae loading the VW Beetle? It was just plain cruel. He could hear her shifting around boxes and calling out orders to her dog and grandmother. This was what he got after the night they’d shared?

He pulled on a pair of jeans and stomped down the stairs. The cats didn’t even congregate to lend moral support. They were already outside with her, overseeing the proceedings as she tried to utilize every square inch of her backseat.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He stood between her and the car.

She bit her lip, face flushed red. Sorry she was going? Or sorry she’d gotten caught in the act?

“To Atlanta.” She moved to go around him.

He took the box out of her hands and dropped it on top of a yellow gym bag with the price tags still attached.

“Back to your show?”

“No, back to pick up the wreckage I made of my life.” She swiped a stray hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “I need to fix some things.”

“Right.” His lips thinned into a tight line.

“You don’t believe me.” She backed up a step, steadying herself on the wrought iron railing alongside the carriage house steps.

“Frankly? No. Why should I? I barely know you, but I sure have seen the way you run on high drama. I hear your show is thriving since you shot the runaway bride episode.”

“Do you have to be cruel? Are you the only one who gets to be a big badass grownup who does the right thing? I can’t keep hiding out here and just ignoring the parts of my life that haven’t worked out the way Mom does.” She straightened some plants leaning sideways in the window box she’d made, not looking at him. “I need to face the music before I can move on with my life.”

Bagel gave a bark, pacing around their feet.

“Moving on with your life? What does that even mean? You haven’t been living while you’ve been here?”

At that, she turned slowly.

“I’ve been hiding and I’m not going to do that anymore.” She folded her arms. Stared him down.

“Right. You don’t want to hide. You want to move on.” He stared at the window boxes full of wildflowers on the carriage house behind her, trying to picture how he could stay here without her. “Which I’m still not clear on. But the point is, you’re leaving. That much I get.”

“I need to do the right thing. Then, I’ll move back here and …” she peered around the farm and her voice lost some steam. “I’ll do … something.”

“You definitely sound ready to face the world.” Knowing how little thought she’d given to her safety pissed him off. He’d need to have her watched, protected, until his trial was done.

But he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her even though she was breaking their agreement. Had she ever intended to keep a low profile for more than five minutes?

“You’re not being fair.” She blinked fast, the hint of emotion almost getting to him.

And then he remembered she’d done this to some other poor sap just last week.

“Neither are you, Annamae. And I think you know it.” Steel wedged in his voice.

Their silent standoff was broken when Hazel Mae stepped out of the carriage house, banging the screen door behind her.

“All set!” When she saw him, she smiled. “Morning, Mr. Lambert. And my, don’t you look a sight without your shirt on.” She fanned herself, winking at him. “Not fair to an old lady, that’s for darn sure.”

Annamae stepped away from him. Wynn knew he had to let her go.

“You’re going to Atlanta too?” he managed, trying to be polite even though his tone came out flat. Cold.

The older woman didn’t seem to notice.

“Annamae’s best friend is getting married, and as it happens, I do love a wedding.”

“Let’s hope she has better luck tying the knot than Annamae.” He stared directly at Annamae, trying to force her to look at him. A tightness in his chest pulsed.

Hazel rattled on about weddings and how Annamae had been smart to recognize that she hadn’t been engaged to the right man.

Annamae remained silent. A shade paler than she’d been a minute ago. The woman he’d spent the best night of his life with didn’t have one damn thing to say to him. He’d hurt her.

Guess that made two of them.

“Ready, Gram?” Annamae called across the car as she scooped up her dog.

“I was born ready, honey. You take after me, you know.” Hazel Mae winked at him.

Annamae edged around him and opened the driver’s side door of her car.

“I
will
be back. Whether you want to see me or not.” She tied her scarf around her hair.

“And you know damn well I won’t be here if you do.” He held her door for her while she got in the car. “Drive safe, Red.”

He slammed the door behind her and strode away.

He didn’t even turn to look at her as she drove toward the back entrance. For a crazy second, he thought about not hitting the button on that remote. Not letting her leave.

There would be no excuse for that though. There wasn’t a soul for miles. He couldn’t keep her here on the pretense of paparazzi when there weren’t any to be found.

He’d watched the perimeter fence camera footage for days and there was no one lurking around the property. Whoever Annamae had seen that first day near the fence might really have been a fan or just some local on cleanup patrol of the back road. Besides, Wynn had extra security outside and his contact back in Miami would ensure someone kept an eye on her in Atlanta at least for a few days.

Back inside the farmhouse, he forced himself to watch the security feed as she approached the gate. Waited for it to open. And drove out of his life.

To move on? To face the music? Whatever the hell she called it, the end result was the same. She needed her diva life back in Atlanta. Any hints of a simpler woman beneath the glamor girl had been an illusion.

An acting job.

He pounded his fist on the desk inside the safe room. Pissed off and not knowing where to put it all, he felt the first signs of heartache. He’d cared about her, and she hadn’t given a rat’s ass about him. That left a mark.

The tiger cat leaped up on the desk, right where he’d just pounded. No wonder the thing got its butt kicked in fights… didn’t most felines run at the first sign of trouble? Green eyes stared him down. Fearless even with half an ear.

Wynn gathered the cat up, scratching its neck as he stared at the video monitor showing the back gate. Annamae, the sweetheart of Atlanta cable television, was gone because, according to her, she’d been hiding. While Wynn, a decorated cop professionally trained to take on trouble, continued to sit among his ancient apple trees waiting for his trial date.