Icing on the Cake (Close to Home) (8 page)

“Think back as far as you can,” she began, “to your first childhood memory. Not those vague and fuzzy ones that might be memories or might be dreams, but the first clear, hard thing you remember.” She gave them time, then continued. “There’s a theory that when a strong negative emotion such as fear is attached to an early memory, it’s more readily recalled later in life.”

A true hush fell over the large banquet hall. Heavy silence.

“That’s why so many of you are probably remembering your first trip to the dentist right now.” The mood lifted, the joke earning a round of chuckles. More still when she pointed at a table about halfway back and added, “Sorry, Uncle Howie. I’m sure
none
of those memories came from sitting in
your
chair.”

While the room enjoyed a laugh courtesy of good-natured Uncle Howie, currently standing and taking a bow, she stole a look to her right. Curtis’ eyes locked with hers immediately. Amazing eyes, so twinkly and naughty and wise all at once. A perfect match for his mouth, currently wearing a wide, relaxed smile. She’d put that grin on his face. And that knowledge put one on hers.

“Uncle Howie,” she addressed the room again, “you’ll be happy to note that my first big childhood memory has nothing to do with your excellent and gentle dentistry.”

“Glad to hear it, Sara,” her kindly uncle called amidst some light applause.

“I’ve spent a lot of time digging through my early memories.” The room grew silent again. She turned her head, this time focusing on Nia. “The first really solid
event
I remember is Nia and I, standing hand in hand on the first day of grade one. I was so nervous, I’d given myself the hiccups.” She took a moment to look at her captive audience. “I don’t know how many of you have ever heard me hiccup, but it’s
loud
. Imagine one of those horns that clowns use in parades and you won’t be far off the mark.”

“It’s not that bad,” Nia called from her spot at the head table.

“Dude, it’s totally that bad and you know it.”

“Well…maybe it is.” Nia shrugged and nodded, and more light laughter rose from the crowd.

“So on that day, the hiccupping got pretty awful. And as the kids around us laughed, I got more nervous, which made the honking even worse.” She gave up the view of all the engrossed faces to look at Nia again. “Nia grabbed me by the shoulders, stared me straight in the eye and serious as anything, said, ‘I will give you my Royal Pink Princess Pony if you can hiccup again right now.’” She tilted her head toward the crowd. “If you’re not familiar with the intense devotion little girls have to
My Little Pony
, let me put it this way—Nia’s bribe was basically the equivalent of a million dollars to my six-year-old self. I wanted that princess pony more than anything, and she knew it.”

“Did you hiccup again?” somebody called from one of the tables.

“Nope. I couldn’t do it. Not a single time, for the rest of the day. At six years old, nobody knew me better than Nia. Twenty-three years later, that’s still the case. We weren’t officially sisters back then, but in my heart, we always have been. And I am the luckiest person on earth, having Nia as my sister. As my best friend.” She crossed her heart and blew a kiss to the bride. “I am so happy you got the fairytale. You deserve all the good things.”

Ten feet to the right, Nia returned the gesture from their childhood.

From three feet to the right, Curtis leaned over and handed Sara a table napkin.

She accepted but didn’t use it. If a tear managed to break free and roll down her cheek, so be it. For this moment, for her sister, she wouldn’t push the emotions back into their safe box.

“As for you…” She wagged her index finger at the groom. “I have a few things to say to you.”

The guests chuckled when Conn innocently pointed at himself. “What’d I do?”

“Everything. See, Nia and I have disagreed about that fairytale business for a lot of years now. I kept telling her that real-life guys don’t do movie-style romantic stuff. Then you swooped in and pulled out all the stops to woo and win my sister. And you’re still doing this stuff, even after you got the girl. You proved me wrong, and I hate being wrong, but this time, I’m so glad I was.” She raised her wineglass. “To the beautiful bride and my awesome new brother-in-law.”

Hands rose en masse to join her in toasting Conn and Nia. Not the most eloquent speech in history, but it seemed to have done the trick.

Curtis stood as she moved from the mic, blocking her path and sliding one arm lightly around her waist. “I want to hear you hiccup. Think I’m going to make that my mission for later. One of my missions.”

Not, “good speech” or “thanks for not fucking up the reception.” Nothing predictable like that. Of course not. But mesmerizing and sexy in an entirely
Curtis
way? Oh hell yes.

He released his hold on her—though in fact, he’d barely touched her—and returned to his seat. Six-plus feet of sexy dressed-to-kill man winked up at her and motioned sideways with his head. “Nia’s waiting for you.”

The bride. Right. The reason Sara was decked out in pink and bling. How easily he’d distracted her. All the mushy-gushy, touchy-feely stuff was making her soft. Thank god it was almost over.

“Sara.” Face to face, Nia clasped their hands together. “I wasn’t expecting a speech like that.”

Shit. She should have copied one of the samples from the internet and dubbed in appropriate names for the placeholders. Even with the best of intentions, she’d managed to screw up.

“It was the most special gift you could have given me.” Nia pulled her into a hug so close, Sara had no choice but to melt into the embrace.

“Does that mean I can return the programmable Crock-Pot and get my seventy-five bucks back?”

“No way,” Nia said, laughing as they separated. “I’ve been waiting for that Crock-Pot since I put it on the registry list.”

“Fine. You can have the speech
and
the slow cooker. But I expect lots of free dinners where I’m not required to spill my guts.”

“Deal.”

The DJ commandeered the mic to outline the remaining itinerary for the reception. Sara didn’t hear a word of it. Her pulse still pounded in her ears, gradually receding as the stress ebbed. Nia loved the speech. Sara hadn’t ruined the day. Or the evening. She was in the homestretch, the hard parts were over.

“Thanks for the welcome,” Conn said, while hugging his wife. “Means a lot.”

“Just speaking the truth, like I always do.”

Conn chuckled. “Yeah, I know. That’s why it means a lot.” He’d never minced words, or his feelings, with Sara.

Anybody that did that without being an asshole deserved props. Now that she’d given them, time to get back to business as usual.

“Don’t you have a dance to lead or something? The sooner you get on that,” she motioned at her pink cocktail dress, “the sooner I can take this thing off.”

“Now there’s a plan.” Curtis’ voice wrapped around her from behind. Not a physical caress as Conn had given Nia, but it may as well have been. His presence in her personal space made goose bumps rise on her arms as if he’d trailed his hands over her bare skin.

Nia’s wide-eyed gaze flitted back and forth from Sara’s face to Curtis, positioned close behind her. Nia being Nia, her expression hid nothing. Curiosity first, followed by a healthy dose of approval.

Shit. The last thing Sara needed was Nia getting it in her head that coupledom was on the horizon. That it was even a possibility.

“Go.” She leaned forward and gave Nia a gentle poke below the ring of Conn’s embrace. “Dance and be nauseatingly romantic for the waiting voyeuristic masses.”

“Your cheeks are a bit red. Sara Robinson, are you embarrassed?

“
Pfft.
It’s a million degrees in here. Didn’t you pay for air-conditioning?”

The true source of all that heat chuckled near her ear.

Nia’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Okay, we’re going. But don’t even
think
about disappearing to the ladies’ room after we walk away, because you two are up next. See you out there.”

Shit, the wedding-party dance. She’d successfully repressed that little detail. “You know, it’s really not fair to Lindsay if Curtis and I join the fun, since she doesn’t have an usher to dance with.”

“You’re concerned about my feelings?” Lindsay asked, butting in from several feet away, where she’d obviously been eavesdropping. “Gosh, Sara, I’m touched. But don’t you worry, I have a dance partner lined up, so we’re all good to go.”

“What a relief.” Sara clapped her palm over her heart.

“Of course you’d have known that if you tuned in to a channel other than your own.”

Seriously?
This
was when Lindsay wanted to have it out? And in front of Nia, no less?

Smart man that he was, Conn steered Nia out of the impending battle zone.

Curtis cupped the sides of Sara’s waist. His big, hard body pressed against her back as he turned her away from his sister. And trouble. “Lindsay’s had one too many glasses of wine,” he said, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Be a good girl and walk away.”

“Now you want me to be good? I thought you wanted me to be very,
very
bad.”

“Oh, I do. And you will be. Later.”

“Pretty presumptuous, lawman.”

“Part of why you like me.”

“Also presumptuous. I never said I like you.”

He chuckled near her ear, the deep rumble sending a ripple of heat straight to her core. “You just gave me another mission.”

They reached the edge of the dance floor as the DJ welcomed Mr. and Mrs. Lawler to their first dance as husband and wife.

“You want to be a Mrs. Somebody one day?”

“Hell no.” Marriage was about love, and love was about pain. She’d had enough of that.

Applause rose and faded within seconds. All eyes were on the beautiful woman in the white dress and her tall, dark and handsome hubby. All eyes including Sara’s.

When
Just a Kiss
by
Lady Antebellum
started and Conn took Nia in his arms, everything else in the room fell away. They were magic. A living, breathing depiction of true love. Of a fairytale.

“They look good.”

Sara nodded at Curtis’ quietly spoken words. “Yeah.”

“How long do you give them?”

“Until death.” At his grunt, she tore her eyes from the dance floor to glare up at him. “You disagree? If you have reason to believe Conn will hurt Nia down the road—”

“Nothing like that. Not the other way around either. They’re locked in—for now. But in five to ten years…who knows? You said it yourself in the speech. Real life isn’t like some bullshit romance movie. It’s overtime shifts, clogged toilets and sports on the TV.” He shrugged. “The honeymoon ends eventually and reality sets in. It disappoints. People move on.”

“Wow. Pessimist much?”

“And you’re not?”

“Not about this.” She believed in people loving each other for as long as they had. It was fate, or the universe’s grand plan, or whatever you wanted to call it, that she didn’t trust.

“Let’s have the wedding party join the bride and groom on the floor.” The DJ’s voice overrode the music.

Curtis snagged her arm. “That’s us, princess.”

*

“Don’t call me that,” she growled as he half-dragged her across the parquet. “You don’t get to call me that.”

And yet he had. Several times. All of which she’d taken in stride. Better than that—she’d seemed happy about his use of the sweet nickname. That’d been the only reason it left his lips more than once. The depth of emotion in her eyes the first time he called her princess had hooked him. He wanted to see more of it. To be the one to reveal it.

Not going to happen at the moment, though. The woman moving around the dance floor with him wasn’t just cold, she’d gone downright prickly. If he didn’t smooth her quills in the next couple minutes, the song would end and she’d be long gone. Yeah, he could sleep alone tonight. But he’d rather not sleep at all—with her.

First he had to thaw the frost he’d caused. He’d obviously touched a nerve. Another one. Apologizing would work with most women, but Sara wasn’t most women. If he tried going that route, she’d see right through it. Cut him down with that fast mouth of hers. And he had much better plans for her mouth.

He slid his hand along her spine. Then lower. The warm, soft skin beneath his fingertips gave way to the slippery satin material of her dress. He toyed with the end of the zipper, taking it down a couple inches to see if she’d react. She didn’t. Balls of steel, this woman.

He re-zipped the dress, then continued his downward journey. He bit back a groan when he reached the dip of her back, directly above her ass—one of his favorite areas on a woman’s body.

For a woman with major curves, Sara had a tiny waist. His hand spanned the small of her back perfectly. He was going to enjoy having his hand here when they were naked. The perfect spot to pull her in tight while face-to-face. To hold her in place while he had her ass-up. Oh yeah, he would definitely have her that way later.

He slid his hand down some more. Over the high, firm curve of her ass, all the way to the underside, where he curled his fingertips possessively into her satin-covered flesh.

“Get your hand off my ass.” None of her sexy snark in that statement. Just that damn frost.

“Only way that’s happening is if I put it somewhere better.” He tugged her closer, easily overpowering her resistance, and getting one hundred percent hard in the process. “Is that what you want, troublemaker? Me to hike your dress up and slide my hand between your legs right here, with everybody watching?”

“Fuck you.” The curse contained venom, but it rode a hitched breath.

“You will. Multiple times tonight. You want to start now, or do you think you can wait ’til we get somewhere more private?”

She twisted against his hold and got nowhere. “Dick,” she whispered, curling her fingernails into his other hand as they swayed to the country song.

“Claws in, kitten, or you might tear that pretty dress. And if anybody’s going to ruin it, it’ll be me, when I rip it off your sexy body.”