Hot Finish (13 page)

“Oh, they have sex with each other,” Nikki explained, sticking her finger in Jonas’s piece of chocolate cake and lifting it to her mouth before catching herself and wiping it on his napkin with a little growl.

“We . . .” Ryder started, not sure what to say. They did have sex with each other, at least they had until two years ago, then again the week earlier, but he was pretty damn sure Suzanne didn’t want everyone to know, especially not her bakery contact. “We’re married.”

The remnants of Suzanne’s laughter cut out. She gave him an incredulous look and amended, “
Were
married. We’re divorced.”

Not so much. “Actually, not according to the lawyer—”

The rest of his sentence got stopped in its tracks by a piece of cake being shoved straight into his mouth by his ex-wife, current wife, whatever wife she was. Icing scraped over his teeth and his tongue recoiled from the weight of the cake unexpectedly colliding with it.

“Ahh,” he managed before being forced to swallow. It was the shitty champagne cake, and while he didn’t want it in his stomach, he definitely didn’t want it lingering in his mouth either.

Wishing a beer would miraculously appear in front of him, he looked over at Suzanne as he reached for a napkin. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“To shut you up,” she told him, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Nobody here wants to listen to our business.”

“I do,” Nikki said.

Ryder ignored the bride and licked more icing off his teeth. “You’re not careful, Suz, you’ll wind up taste testing yourself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t test that theory.” He turned to Jonas. “I’d go with the chocolate hazelnut if I were you, man. That cake rocks.”

The diversionary tactic worked. When he whirled with a piece of lemon cake in his hand, Suzanne was totally unprepared. She didn’t even have time to get a hand up to block before he had squashed the icing into her lips. He didn’t actually want to put it in her mouth because he didn’t want her to choke and have to be Heimliched, but he did want to make a point.

What that point was, he wasn’t exactly sure, but the look on her face when he pulled back the slice of cake, leaving her with a half-inch layer of icing on her lips, was hilarious. Ryder laughed, reaching out and swiping his finger through the white cloud of frosting. “So what do you think of that?” He sucked his finger clean.

Her tongue came out and did a slow slide through the mess. It was meant to clean off her lip, but Ryder couldn’t help but look at the tongue and have erotic thoughts that had nothing to do with cake and everything to do with dessert.

“I think”—she said, reaching for a napkin, the corner of her mouth trying to swing up into a smile she was desperately fighting—“that the lemon makes the cut. We should do the chocolate hazelnut and the lemon. Nikki and Jonas, is that agreeable with you?”

“Sure, if that’s what you think,” Nikki said, making it the easiest she had probably ever capitulated to anything in her life. “Jonas?”

“Whatever you want, baby. The chocolate was pretty damn good.”

“Excellent.” While Suzanne slipped back into professional mode, she nudged his leg with hers under the table.

He gave her a questioning look, wishing that Nikki and Jonas and Mrs. Fondant would just disappear, leaving the two of them alone with sugary icing that Ryder could smear on Suzanne’s nipples and suck off, slowly and thoroughly.

Suzanne put her finger between her lips and licked it deliberately, her eyes darkening. When she dropped it back down, she mouthed to him,
Later
.

That was the second time she’d said that since he’d walked in the door, which meant it had to mean she was serious. Ryder could only hope she had managed to read his mind and later would start oh, say, now, and involved lots of licking and sucking on both their parts. She gave him a sly smile, like she knew the direction his thoughts were taking and she approved.

Now somebody needed to just sign off on this damn Cinderella cake so they could get the hell out of there.

“IS
later now?” Ryder murmured to Suzanne after another thirty minutes. Joyce had run to answer the phone and Nikki and Jonas were making out on the other side of the table, so they were alone.

“No.” Damn it. “In fact, you and Jonas can leave if you want after he gets done cramming his tongue down Nikki’s throat. We’re just about done here now that we’ve ironed out having twelve mini-cakes of Nikki in a Cinderella gown for each table, but then the bride and I are on to the florist.” Where she arguably might pass out from lack of sleep, but maybe she’d land on a bed of roses. No one could say she didn’t think positively.

“No private cake tasting?” Ryder looked crushed, which made her happy.

“Not unless you want it at about two A.M., because that’s probably when I can break away. I’m sorry, I was thinking with my girl bits instead of my brain.”

“You should do that more often,” Ryder told her.

Suzanne laughed. “I’m sure you would like that, but my bank account wouldn’t.”

“Alright, I understand, but make sure you get some sleep at some point, okay? You’re going to get sick if you don’t slow down.”

Her first instinct was to bristle and tell him she didn’t have a choice, but she decided to just take it the way Ryder meant it, as concern, not a criticism. “It should ease up after this weekend. Nikki is going to Champions Week with Jonas so we need to have all decisions made by Tuesday. Maybe next Saturday I’ll even get to sleep in.”

“No appointments next Saturday?”

“No.”

Ryder’s arm was on the back of the metal chair she was sitting on. He leaned closer, his aftershave scent drifting up her nostrils. “Hey, come to Vegas with me next weekend then.”

“What?” Suzanne sat straighter, her palms instantly going damp with sweat. “For the awards ceremony? Are you crazy?”

“Why not?” He gave her a charming smile. “We’ll have a great time. Lots of wine, food, shopping . . . sex. Sex again. And more sex. What could be better?”

“That sounds an awful lot like what married people do. What we did when we were married.” She had to admit, it held a certain appeal, but it would more than muddy the waters, it would run them black.

“And we always had fun.”

That he could sit there and look so endearingly confident that they wouldn’t rip each other’s throats out with mini-bar tools was damn cute. Enough that she actually entertained the idea for a split second before squashing it.

“Do you know what kind of attention we’d get if we showed up together? Tongues would be wagging for weeks.”

Ryder wiggled his own tongue, making her laugh. “Let them wag. I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks.”

“You should, you dumb ass. You have an image to uphold.” He wasn’t going to sway her, he just wasn’t. This was a big, bad, suck-ass idea.

Of course, she’d made a number of those lately, and she was actually kind of enjoying them.

“How does this damage my image? It’s not like I’m walking in with a gaggle of hookers, you’re my ex-wife.”

“A
gaggle
of hookers? How many is that exactly? And if you walk in with your ex-wife, someone might start poking and figure out that the
ex
part is slightly exaggerated.” Suzanne glanced over at Nikki and Jonas, but they weren’t listening. They were whispering to each other, noses touching. What was their obsession with nose rubbing? It made Suzanne want to get really drunk so she’d pass out and not have to see that anymore.

Ryder just waved his hand. “No they won’t.”

“Hey, Suzy Sunshine, you’re wrong. The media loves this kind of thing. Look, I appreciate the offer, and I’m tempted, really tempted to spend a weekend naked in Las Vegas with you, but it ain’t going to happen, Jefferson.”

CHAPTER
TWELVE

“I
think you should go,” Imogen told Suzanne, sucking down her margarita like it was water.

Suzanne eyeballed her friend. “Maybe you ought to slow down there, Shakespeare, because that tequila is clearly going to your head, given that you’re talking crazy.”

“I agree with her,” Tammy said from across the table, relaxing back in her seat, her lips stained from the melon margarita she was sipping.

“You all have lost your minds,” Suzanne said in disgust, pushing her own drink away from her. “Yuck, this tastes like shit. And why would it even remotely be a good idea for me to go to Vegas with Ryder for Champions Week?”

“Because clearly the two of you have unfinished business.”

“I don’t think a weekend at some swanky hotel is going to finish it!” Were they nuts? Suzanne tugged at the neck of her gray sweater. She suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. “It will just be all make-believe if I go. Like a rewind or something. It’s not a good idea.”

Because she was pretty sure she’d wind up with her heart kicked all over again, and she wasn’t signing on for that shit voluntarily.

“Suz,” Tammy said in a tone that was sympathetic, but firm. “You have never gotten over Ryder. Don’t deny it, because the only people here are your best friends and the booze, and we all know the truth.”

“It’s not that I never got over him, it’s just that I never really got closure.” With that bit of nonsense, Suzanne lifted her own glass and sipped.

“I think that’s somewhat of the same thing,” Imogen told her, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “I wasn’t around for your marriage to Ryder, but I think it’s fairly evident that there are unresolved issues. This could be an opportunity for the two of you to really open up to each other and discuss the failure of your marriage.”

Suzanne snorted. “Now that sounds like fun. You want me to go all the way to Vegas to talk to Ryder about why our marriage stank so bad it made a gut wagon smell good?”

“Your marriage was not that bad,” Tammy told her, tucking her auburn hair behind her ear. “You loved each other.”

“It wasn’t that good either,” Suzanne said. “And sure we loved each other, or at least, I loved him, but if we knew why we failed, I’m guessing we don’t need to talk about it. It just is what it is.”

Suzanne didn’t want to talk to anyone about why her marriage had failed. Not Ryder, not her friends, not her own self. There was nothing fun about remembering how Ryder had married her solely because she’d been pregnant in a quickie Vegas wedding to prevent any industry gossip. At the time, his sponsor had been a very well-known condom brand, and it would have been a huge PR nightmare if they had found out Ryder had knocked up his girlfriend of about ten minutes. And there was nothing worse in stock car racing than losing your sponsorship.

Ryder had said the right things to Suzanne and never even mentioned the irony of who his sponsor was, but despite being a poor country girl, she wasn’t dumb. She figured it out on her own, and she’d known that if she weren’t pregnant, there would have been no proposal. Their relationship probably would have burned out in six months instead of lingering for four years.

So what was there to talk about?

“If there’s nothing to talk about, then there’s no reason you can’t spend the weekend with Ryder just enjoying yourself. You have nothing to fear from forty-eight hours.”

Damn that Imogen and her logic. She had just turned Suzanne’s words right on around.

“Yes, I do. I have his stupidity to fear.” When cornered, come out clawing. It was a skill she’d perfected over a lifetime of poverty.

Except her friends weren’t falling for it. Imogen’s eyebrow went up, and Tammy just shook her head. “The only thing you think is stupid about that man is his inability to use a bottle opener. You can be real with us, you know.”

Maybe she didn’t want to be real. Suzanne crossed her arms across her chest and tried to hang on to her bitterness. But as she looked around the crowded Mexican restaurant and bar that had become their favorite girl’s hangout, she was having a hard time mustering up bitchy. Her friends meant well. They wanted her happy. Well, hell, she wanted herself happy, too, and maybe they weren’t so crazy after all. If a weekend knocking boots with Ryder made her happy, why shouldn’t she do it?

Because down that path lay heartbreak and a high standard for orgasms that ordinary men couldn’t compete with.

“It’s already complicated. I don’t think tossing a romantic weekend away together into that is going to do anything but make it worse.” Not to mention the last time they’d been in Vegas together they’d been getting hitched shotgun style.

“Since when is awards weekend romantic?” Tammy made a face. “It’s a bunch of cameras in your face, speeches, and endless dinners. And you only have to show for the weekend. I’m stuck there for all of Champions Week.”

“This is your first time doing this event with Elec. I can guarantee come Monday you’ll have a different opinion on the whole thing.”

Tammy shrugged. “I never really got into it, it’s stressful.”

“Then why the hell are you telling me to go?” she asked incredulously.

“Because you always had fun. That’s your thing, socializing, and half the time you and Ryder were scrambling in at the last minute because you were having sex again.”

That was true. Suzanne propped her chin on her hands and sighed at the memory of those trips.

“Sadly, my first husband and I were never late to anything. I’m not sure we ever even had sex on one of those trips.”

“Pete was a good guy, but the two of you had about as much sexual chemistry as a couple of doorknobs.” Unlike Suzanne and her first husband. Who was still her husband. And who wanted her to go to Las Vegas with him for a sex fest.

“I’m glad the two of you will be there,” Imogen said. “I’m nervous myself, since this is my first big event since becoming engaged to Ty. Do you think we’ll have time to see a show? I’m also having hair and gown anxiety. You’re going to have to do my hair, Suzanne.”

“I didn’t say I was going,” she pointed out. “So you’d better be booking a salon appointment.”

“You’re going,” Imogen said. “You’ve already made up your mind, you just have to find an acceptable rationalization first before you can admit it to yourself.”

Damn her. That girl was always so right in her annoying logic. Not quite ready to admit it yet, Suzanne complained. “Why did they move it to Vegas anyway? It’s always been in New York. New York is tempting, but I can control myself in New York and get home quickly if I need to bail. I have serious doubts about my ability to be rational in Sin City. Ryder looks damn good in a tux, you know.”

“Vegas is glitzy and glamorous and quite frankly, I’m guessing it’s cheaper,” Tammy said. “Not exactly kid friendly though. Petey and Hunter are disappointed they have to stay here with their grandparents.”

“It will be like a second honeymoon for you,” Imogen told her.

An image of her own honeymoon in Vegas rolled through Suzanne’s head like a film. An adult film. They’d had a lot of sex and she’d worn a lot of sequins, both in bed and out.

What honest woman could resist the twin lure of bling and booty?

Not her.

RYDER
was about to step on the plane for Vegas Monday morning, papers being shoved at him by his assistant, Carol, when his phone rang. A quick glance showed it was Suzanne, and he answered it, the tiny flicker of optimism he’d been trying to fan flaring up. Maybe she had changed her mind.

“Hello?”

Carol shot him a look of annoyance that he had answered the phone, but he ignored her, moving a few steps in front on the Jetway.

“Do you still want me to go to Vegas with you?” Suzanne asked without preamble.

His hope and other parts of him leapt up tall and proud. “Hell, yeah.”

“You’re going to have to lend me the money for the ticket and a dress.”

“Don’t insult me, Suz. I invited you. I’m paying.”

“I’ll accept the plane ticket, because at this late date, it’s going to be about a grand, but I’ll pay you back for the dress.”

“Whatever, sweetheart. We’ll figure it out.” Later, in bed, when he had her mindless and incoherent, he would convince her to accept the trip as a gift.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, her voice skeptical.

Ryder paused at the door to the plane behind a little old lady with a walker who was being escorted on board. Suzanne had said questionable things before, but this was just dumb. “Yes. I want to do this. Hell, yes.”

“It’s going to be a media shit storm on the red carpet. Are you ready?”

“I don’t care about any of that. I just care about you.” The minute the words were out of his mouth, he realized they might scare Suzanne off, so he quickly amended, “Care about having fun with you. We’re going to tear up Vegas, baby.”

She sounded doubtful when she said, “Alright, I’ll fly in on Thursday. At least I know I won’t be on the same flight as Nikki.”

“We’re at the Wynn. Call me when you’re leaving Thursday and let me know what time you get in. I’ll have Carol call you and book your flight for you.”

“See you Thursday and you’d better have some fucking bells on, Jefferson.”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

Ryder hung up the phone as he boarded the plane and turned to Carol, unable to prevent a grin from splitting his face. “You need to book a flight for Suzanne on Thursday morning to Vegas then e-mail her the details.”

As he plopped his small carry-on down on his seat in first class, Carol frowned at him as she took the seat next to him. “Suzanne who?”

He looked at her in disbelief. “How many Suzannes do you think I know?”

Carol just shrugged, her navy blue blazer shifting on her shoulder. Carol had been his assistant for years, and while sometimes he found her demeanor a little pinched and off-putting, she kept him organized. Back when he was a rookie, she had been instrumental in preventing him from making embarrassing media errors. Over the years her hair had gotten grayer and her lipstick had gotten bolder, but she was still essentially the same. Quiet, faintly disapproving, and so efficient the devil would never have a crack at her fast-moving hands.

“Suzanne
Jefferson
. She’ll be flying in on Thursday and spending the weekend with me in my suite.” Ryder sat down and hooked his seat belt. “When we get to Vegas can you make sure there’s champagne and chocolate covered strawberries in the room for Thursday? And tickets to that magic show with that one guy, whatever his name is.”

Suzanne had wanted to see that show when they’d been on their honeymoon, but they had been too late to buy tickets. Getting married on about three minutes’ notice had made it sort of a cobbled together event. But this trip he would get magic show tickets if he had to pay a thousand bucks for them.

“You have events going all on week,” Carol reminded him. “I seriously doubt there’s time for a magic show.”

“Well, pick whichever night has the least going on. Probably Thursday or Sunday night.” He hadn’t confirmed when Suzanne wanted to fly back, but Monday morning made the most sense. That’s when he was going back. “And see if you can get Suz on the same flight back as me on Monday.”

Carol didn’t answer, just typed into her BlackBerry.

“What?” he asked her.

“I didn’t say anything.” She still wasn’t looking at him, but her voice rang with disapproval.

“You think it’s a bad idea to have my ex-wife with me for this trip, don’t you?”

“It’s none of my business,” she said. She was a full foot shorter than him but somehow still intimidating. It was the twenty-five years she had on him, and the narrow glasses. It was like having a teacher send you to the office. “I’m just your assistant, not your PR person.”

“You think I should tell Bill?”

“I think it would be wise,” she said, still typing away, her black glasses sliding down her nose.

Yeah, but it would suck the fun right out of his day. Bill Coughlin saw potential disaster in everything. He didn’t need to know that Suzanne was attending the awards ceremony with him. Nor did he need to know that technically Ryder and Suzanne were still married.

That was just between the two of them.

Just like the amazing sex they were going to share every spare minute of the upcoming weekend.

Pulling his sponsor’s logo ball cap down low over his eyes, Ryder settled back to take a nap and anticipate a wild weekend in Vegas with the woman he still loved.

SUZANNE
was in Vegas, for better or for worse. As the car Ryder had sent to the airport pulled up in front of the majestic glass hotel rising out of the desert, she took a deep breath. Six years since she’d been here, a happy and terrified bride. A lot had happened in that time. Hell, this hotel hadn’t even been there then. Ryder had been a young up-and-coming driver, hoping to crack the top twenty. She had been pregnant.

Her stomach suddenly roiled and she swallowed repeatedly, keeping her mouth closed to fight the nausea. Her cheeks went hot and bile churned aggressively in her gut. Flinging a door open before the cab even came to a complete stop, she sucked in the crisp December air and felt her stomach settling down. Jesus. Maybe she wasn’t used to traveling anymore, because waiting at the airport, the long plane ride, and the cab ride had kicked her butt.

Ryder must have been hovering in the doorway because he was suddenly beside her, his welcoming grin slipping off his face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little carsick. It must be old age.”

Or her gut telling her this was one of her dumbest ideas yet. She and Ryder hadn’t spent more than a few hours in each other’s company since their divorce. Alleged divorce. Presumed divorce. If you didn’t count when they’d spent the night together two weeks earlier. Anyway, the point was, she wasn’t sure they could really handle three days and four nights together.

But clearly there was something compelling her to try it on for size, because she’d packed a bag and put her ass on a jet and flown five hours west. Insanity was the only explanation. Or masochism.