My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding (5 page)

The only thermostat that's broken is one you don't want to touch.
"No, I don't think that's the problem, Daddy."

Her mom fanned her shirt away from her body in mock sympathy. "Well, you're too young to be going through the change, so you aren't having hot flashes like me."

"Jemma's just having hot and sweaty sex, Dad. If she'd knock that off, she wouldn't have to worry about cooling her place down."

Jemma shot Mikey what she hoped was a look of pure hatred, and he returned it with one of utter joy. Some things would never change, and that included their relationship. As the big brother, he'd always pick on her. God have mercy on anyone else trying to pester her or threaten her happiness, though. That job belonged to Mikey, and he would never allow anyone to infringe on his territory.

Mikey picked up the piece of bagel that had landed on the counter. After a quick sniff, he popped partially chewed food back into his mouth.

Disgusted, Jemma muttered, "Pig."

"Psycho."

Their mom stood between them, arms folded. "What has gotten into you two? You guys haven't acted like this since you lived under the same roof."

Mikey came to his own defense. "I don't know what the big deal is. It's not like I want my sister to swan dive off the TMI cliff with details. I was merely expressing that I'm glad my sister has a healthy sex life."

She raised an eyebrow. "If you had
expressed your opinion
without the term 'gettin' laid', I'd be more apt to believe your well wishes toward your sister and her sex life."

Mikey mocked his mother's expression and pretended to repeat what she said, but was immediately halted by a whack from his father.

"Hey, you're all gonna give me brain damage."

Everyone else chimed simultaneously, "Too late."

A smug grin of satisfaction replaced Jemma's scowl. Her mom grabbed her arm and led her into the living room, out of the line of fire. They sat on the couch next to one another.

Jemma dropped her head onto her mother's shoulder and sighed. "Well, I hate to let you down, and I know Mikey has you thinking I have this great sex life. The truth is, I don't, but I do have a date for Friday night." Popping her head back up, she grinned at her mother.

"Okay, you know I have a million questions for you then." She smiled back.

"I don't have all of the answers for you. I only met him a few days ago. I can't get him out of my head, though. He has the most amazing eyes of anyone I've ever met. I know he has more of an effect on me by merely sitting next to me in a booth than any man I've ever dated, and he makes me giggle like a schoolgirl. His name is Anthony Giovanni." She paused, waiting to say the words that would alter her mother's contented look. Swallowing hard, she finished, "And he's the cousin of the woman Dalton is marrying."

Her mother's expression went from romantic dream to horrific nightmare. "Oh, honey."

"I know, Mom. I heard all the warning bells and sirens, too, but I can't help it. I shook his hand, looked into his eyes, and something just clicked. It's never been like this for me before."

Her expression softened. "Well, the only way you'll find out more about Anthony Giovanni is to go out with him on Friday night, then." Pulling her daughter's hand within her own, she brought it up to her lips and kissed her knuckles. "If your heart and your head agree, that's when you'll know he's the right one for you."

"There is a problem, Mom. Which part of my
head
do I listen to?"

They pressed their foreheads together and laughed, but deep down Jemma harbored genuine concern.

Friday night snuck up on Jemma, and date-time arrived before she knew it.

She hopped around her apartment, trying to slide her foot into her cream colored Juicy Couture slip-ons while using her free hand to thread a crystal chained earring into her earlobe. The clock over the stove read six twenty-four. Slumping haphazardly onto her recliner, she wrapped the satin ballet laces from her shoes around her ankles and tied them in bows. She stood up as a knock sounded at her door and paused to glance in her full-length mirror by the entertainment center.

She'd styled her strawberry blond hair in long, loose curls and pulled it back from her face with a sheer scarf, twisting and tying it in a loose bow behind her left ear. The dark brown, sleeveless tank dress she'd picked up at Victoria's

Secret that afternoon hugged her in all the right places without looking quite as clingy as it had on the mannequin in the store.
Seems I get to keep a few more
"secrets" than the mannequin
.

Another knock pulled her from her mental pre-date checklist. She opened the door and a genuine look of approval greeted her. Tony's dark blue gaze sparkled, and his entire face brightened.

"You look wonderful," he growled, with the same sultry tone he'd used on the phone earlier in the week.

"Thanks, you look pretty amazing yourself." Jemma raised her eyebrows in appreciation and soaked in his handsome appearance. Khaki trousers, brown slip-on shoes, and a matching belt drew her eye up, but the tight T-shirt accentuating his muscular chest under the un-tucked, unbuttoned dress shirt really pushed her over the edge. Flashes from her dreams danced through her mind, and she fought the urge to lay her palm against his chest.
Focus, Jemma, or this is
going to be a long night. Ooh, if only like my dreams.

"So, this is
Casa de Jemma
, eh?" Tony peered over her shoulder at the surroundings.

"Allow me to give you the grand tour." Stepping out of the doorway, she let him into the apartment and dramatically waved an arm in a semi circle. "This is it."

"Small is not a bad thing; less to clean that way. I love the stainless in the kitchen." He ran his hand along the counter and looked around, smiling and nodding his head. "You've done a great job with this. It's very personalized. I can tell a lot about you."

Jemma shook the recurrent daydream of the coffee house counter from her mind and asked, "Oh, really? Like what?"

"Well, even if I hadn't already known you were a photographer, I'd have picked up on that right away from your equipment." He grinned. "By the amount of family pictures on the wall, I'd say that you're close-knit. The variation in your designs in different areas tells me you have different tastes and are open to change. Your bold choice of colors says you aren't afraid to take risks. And the fact that you still have a beanbag chair in your living room? Well, that tells me we're going to get along just fine." He dropped onto the chair with a resounding
whoosh
and closed his eyes.

"Ah, also a lover of things old and outdated, I see," Jemma said, her words laced with a hint of humor. She looked down at the nicely dressed man sprawled across her ancient beanbag chair and released a heady sigh. It increased her attraction to him, knowing that he liked her chair. Especially since Dalton had hated it.

Score one for Anthony.

"I hate to drag you from my expensive furniture, but we should probably be leaving if we plan to make it to the movie on time." Tony opened one eye a bit. Jemma continued, sarcasm clinging to her words, "Or, you could just nap while I cook us up a five-star, four-course meal here." She folded her arms tightly across her chest. Her foot tapped a staccato beat to accentuate her cynicism.

Both of his eyes popped open at her jaded proposal. "Oh, that would be
great
." Tucking his thumbs into the belt line of his pants, he stretched out even longer before blowing his cover with a devious smile.

"If you'd been serious, you would also have been dateless tonight. You realize that, don't you?" Jemma matched his grin but remained in her skeptical stance.

Anthony jumped to his feet and unlaced her arms, threaded one through his, and led her out the door and down to his awaiting BMW. He scurried around to open her door for her. Jemma slid into the leather seat and almost groaned aloud with pleasure as it molded itself to her backside. She ran a mental comparison to Dalton's car and its hard, leather interior.

Score two for Anthony.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

Her eyes widened in what she hoped wasn't a deer-in-the-headlights look, after evidently snickering to herself. "Nothing. Just admiring your leather seats."

"Wow, you must really like leather, then."

Embarrassment warmed Jemma's cheeks, and they both laughed. In an attempt to take the focus off of her supposed leather fetish, she said, "So, what do you like to do for fun?"

"With leather?"

Laughter again filled the small vehicle, as they drove toward the restaurant.

"If leather is what you do in your spare time, then
oh-kay
." Turning in her seat to watch his face while he talked, the leather again molded to her adjusted position. She fought to keep from making another joke.

Common sense won for a change, and she kept her mouth shut.

With his eyes on the road, he said, "Well, I work a lot, so spare time is very scarce. I have a ski boat and love to take it down to Table Rock Lake. It has leather seats too, in case you're interested." He paused, turning a quick knowing look in her direction then continued. "But it's unfortunate that everyone else likes that lake, too. Crowded waters don't bode well for skiers like me. I also like to play pool, bowl, and throw darts, all for fun, mind you. I watch football and baseball on television when I can and spend time with friends when I'm invited. How about you?"

"Well, other than my newfound leather fetish, which I've made you glaringly aware of, I'm a workaholic, too, so we have that in common. My parents have a boat, so I love going out on the lake, but the whole skiing thing has eluded me. I've ingested more lake water trying to learn than I care to admit."

"Perhaps you just need the right teacher."

"Hmm, do you know anyone willing to take on that big of a task?"

"I might." Tony winked as they pulled into Zio's parking lot. Continuing in a gentlemanly fashion, he walked around to her side of the car as she opened her door. He held it open with one hand and extended his other to assist.

"Wow, I'm not used to the royal treatment."

Tony's brow creased, and she stood next to him and closed the door. Pressing the lock button on his key fob, a gentle
doop-doop
wafted on the warm evening air. "This isn't royal treatment. This is how a man treats a woman, plain and simple."

He took her hand and placed it into the crook of his arm. "Shall we?"

"Yes, let's." The simple pleasure of feeling his bicep under her fingertips sent an overwhelming sensual current racing through every fiber of her being. If she hadn't heard the faint tap of her shoes hitting the pavement, she would have been certain she'd floated through the front door of the restaurant.

The
maître d'
waved menus in their direction. "Ah, Mee-stair Gia-oh-
vay
-nee, dees-a way pleeees." He led them through crowded tables and bustling service personnel to a smaller, quieter room at the back.

Seemingly wealthy couples, donned in exquisite attire, sat at three of the four tables available in the dimly lit room. Jemma fidgeted and pushed her bangs back from her face. Nervous panic churned her stomach. Again, she felt underdressed.

Tony gently squeezed her arm.

She attempted to hide her concern, but couldn't keep from widening her eyes further with each couple she surveyed.

"You look beautiful. It doesn't matter what we wear in here,
or
what they think. Just relax and enjoy yourself." Tony's soothing voice eased her tension some.

As they reached their table, the overly exuberant little French man pulled Jemma's chair out and waved a hand in a grand gesture for her to sit. "Wooood choo like zee wayne leest?"

"Yes, please." Tony accepted the oversized leather-bound list and sat across the table from her.

The only source of light was candles flickering on every table. The space seemed more intimate as the flames cast sparkling, dancing images on the walls. Jemma blended into the shadows and relaxed a little more. The other couples had stopped gawking at them and returned to their own conversations, which worked wonders toward re-stitching Jemma's frayed nerves. The wine Tony ordered arrived, and the French man poured. After enjoying two glasses of the best white wine she'd ever tasted, there were no nerves left to jitter. At some point while they chatted and enjoyed their drinks, Tony ordered food.

He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Okay, other than leather seats and boating, what do you like to do?" He grabbed his glass and brought it to his lips, pausing in anticipation of her reply. Genuine interest glimmered in his gaze. Or was it the candlelight?

"I don't have a lot of close friends, so I haven't mastered pool, darts, or bowling, but I'm up to learning. I love to take my camera to places I've never been and shoot pictures of everything I see, from every angle imaginable. As you guessed from my apartment, I'm very close to my family, so I spend a lot of time with them. I love to read, watch old movies, and meet new clients' cousins."

"Ah, so you've done this before?"

"No, but this is ranking up there on my list of things I like to do." Jemma smiled, picking up her own glass for a drink.

"I wonder who your next client's cousin will be, but more importantly, will he have leather seats in his car?" Winking, Tony finally sipped the drink of wine he'd postponed.

Nearly spitting hers across the table, she swallowed hard and said, "Okay, smart aleck, your turn to pick a topic. Keep it nice."

"But, of course. Tell me about your family." Tony set his glass down and leaned forward again, giving Jemma his complete attention.

"I was born and raised here in Springfield, Missouri, smack dab in middle-class America. My parents both struggled financially and lived paycheck to paycheck while my brother, Mikey, and I grew up. My dad made a good move and invested in some Yahoo stock when it started out, so now they're debt-free and secure, but far from rich. He always jokes that he would've sold me and my brother to buy more stock, if he'd known back then what he knows now. Hindsight and all. He swears he would've bought us back, but I have my doubts." Jemma snickered at the thought. "Mikey is two years older than me, almost to the day. He's rude, crude, and socially unacceptable, but I love him dearly. Someday, I hope he narrows down the women he's dating and finds someone to love. Umm, what else? I work part-time for Harvest Bank downtown and run my photo business the remainder of my waking hours. Well, that's the Cliff's Notes version of my life. You'll have to ask me out on another date to get expanded details." She waved her hand in a regal, nonchalant gesture to match her facial expression. "Your turn."