My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding (8 page)

As she finished downloading her photos to her laptop, she noticed it was after eight. She slapped her computer shut and gathered her things in a heated rush.

Her mind switched back into Conflicted-Jemma mode, allowing thoughts of Tony and their date to crowd to the forefront. Earlier, she'd donned her black lacy underwear set at the last minute, but only after changing at least four times. She hadn't yet decided if she was truly strong enough to say no to him, or just plain delusional.

She shook her head as she rushed out the front doors of the church, knowing full well it was the latter. Scanning the parking lot, she turned her cell phone back on. Her heart sank when she didn't see his car.

Headlights shimmered from a spot several rows back, causing her heart to flip-flop back into place. His car pulled around and entered the overhang in front of the church. A smile inched its way across her face. He hastily shoved the car into park and sprang from his vehicle before she could even put her things down. It was fun to see how fast he could move to open her door before she could. The whole scenario was reminiscent of her and her father, to see who could push the other's buttons first.

She liked Tony's version much better.

His eyes sparkled mischievously as his hand grasped the handle and whipped the door open for her. "I thought you had me this time."

"Lucky break. My hands were full." Winking, she climbed into the car as he loaded her things into his trunk.

Tony slid into the driver's seat and leaned across the console between them, placing a light touch on the side of her face. "Are you ready for a taste sensation right out of Italy?"

Jemma's mind took a complete detour around food with him in such close proximity. She raked her hand across his chest. "I'm always ready for your kisses." She tugged the front of his shirt toward her, bringing his lips onto hers. The brief kiss sparked a jolt of excitement through her entire body.

"Whew." Tony pulled his door shut and put the car into drive. "I was referring to my pasta, but this beats anything I can cook." He turned an ornery side-gaze toward her. "In the kitchen, anyway."

His house, only a short drive from the church, exceeded anything Jemma could have imagined. A two story all brick home, complete with wooden shake shingles, filled the hillside as they drove onto the long, circular drive. Tony took a small lane around the side and into a three stall garage that branched off of the back of the house. They pulled into the far bay, and she admired the new Jeep Wrangler parked next to them. Hurrying around to her door, Tony grabbed the handle as she pushed it open. He shook his head in temporary defeat and offered her his hand. Jemma accepted it graciously and stood up next to him.

Their gazes locked as Tony gripped her waist and gently pressed her against the cool metal of the neighboring SUV.

His eyes narrowed as he dropped his forehead against hers. "You started this. I just want to make that clear."

Jemma feigned innocence, though obviously not well enough to convince him. Not that she really wanted to, either.

His lips brushed against hers, and his body did much the same. The room seemed to sway as his lips parted against hers. Fingers inched down her body until they found her hands, entwining with hers. He slowly guided her arms up over her head and pressed them against the glass of the vehicle.

Jemma released a soft sigh of pleasure into his mouth.

A beeping noise burst the fragile bubble. Tony stopped kissing her and placed his forehead against hers again. "Chicken's done."

"Well, we don't want it to go to waste," Jemma said, a weak smile her only attempt to cover her disappointment.

Letting go of one hand and tugging her along by the other, Tony escorted her through the laundry room off of the garage and into his kitchen. He pulled out a chair for her at the center bar and walked around to the stove to remove the chicken before it burned.

Jemma soaked in her surroundings with awe. They shared a love for stainless steel in their kitchens. All of his appliances were stainless, as well as his sink and huge exhaust fan over the massive gas cook stove. Dark gray marble countertops accented his deep cherry cabinets. Enormous, the kitchen would take up her whole apartment.

"Your kitchen is gorgeous." She propped her elbows on the counter, placed her chin in her palms, and watched him remove the baked chicken breasts from the pan and put them onto a serving tray.

"Thanks. I spend most of my time in here, so I figured I should make sure it was precisely what I wanted. I love to cook."

Please tell me you love cleaning up afterward, too.

"If I didn't have to do dishes and clean the kitchen later, I'd have gourmet meals every day."

Damn, so close.

"Cooking is not something I've ever really excelled at. I'm not sure where I went wrong. My mother is an excellent cook. Still, I know how to make the basics and can get by." Jemma inhaled the enticing aroma, and a hint of lemon pepper made her salivate. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"No, as a matter of fact, follow me." Tony reached for her hand, and she laced her fingers with his.

"Is this because of my cooking comment? I promise I've never killed anyone."

Tony chuckled in response but kept tugging her along.

They passed through a dining room with dark blue walls and a large, ornate cherry wood table surrounded by eight matching chairs. A simple, yet elegant chandelier hung over it, the crystals casting sparkly patterns throughout the room. An elaborate china hutch held a set of gorgeous dinnerware embossed with ivy and trimmed in gold. When they entered the living room, Jemma's breath caught in her chest. An enormous fireplace stopped her in her tracks. The stones resembled those of an old castle.

Tony switched his gaze between her and the fireplace then waggled a brow. "That goes all the way through the second story, which just so happens to be my bedroom. If you're nice, I might let you see it later." A sensuous grin curled one side of his lips.

"Honest? You'd do that for me? How nice," she said, sweet sarcasm dripping from her words. Jemma matched his smirk and followed him through the patio doors to the backyard.

Her fascination with the fireplace paled in comparison as she surveyed the huge brick deck. A café table and two chairs were tucked away in one corner. A white cloth covered the tabletop, along with two place settings of the china she'd just admired. Two crystal flutes and heavy silverware finished the ensemble. Next to the table stood an ornate silver stand, a bucket filled with a bottle of champagne nestled in ice on top. Lit candles, set on every available surface, danced in the light breeze. The deck stepped down to two other levels spotted with deck chairs and canopies then gave way to a lit, kidney shaped swimming pool.

"This is amazing," she whispered, as though she might scare it away.

"It's my second favorite place to be." He led her to the table, pulled out her chair, and poured a glass of champagne. "Enjoy this while I finish up with our meal." He kissed her forehead and disappeared back into the house.

The evening air cooled her skin, a welcome relief from the day's earlier heat. Jemma brought the glass to her lips and enjoyed the tiny bubbles tickling her nose as she tasted it. Smooth, sweet, and decadent.

Kicking her flats off under the table, she took her glass and sauntered down toward the water. The pool glittered, a small waterfall at the end sending ripples across the smooth surface. She walked around the edge, admiring the view. She couldn't help but look back into the living room, follow the fireplace upward, and stare into the window of Tony's bedroom. She pictured him as a king-sized kind of guy. Giggling at the many nuances of 'king-sized,' she turned her attention back toward not taking an unexpected swim.

Standing sideways, she dipped a toe into the inviting water. Cool and refreshing, it tempted her to strip down and dive in. She thought better of it and set her glass down carefully, before bunching her skirt up around her thighs and sitting on the edge. Slowly, she immersed her dangling feet into the silky depths.

Leaning back on one hand, she picked up the champagne flute with her other, and kicked her feet out, splashing water into the air. Tony pushed the patio door open with his hip and carried their plates to the table.

He laughed and shook his head while arranging their meal on the table. "Come eat before it gets cold."

Jemma struggled to a standing position with as much dignity as she could manage, simultaneously making every effort not to topple head-first into the water. Managing both, she picked up her glass and made a cautious trek back to the table.

"It smells heavenly." She sat, and he helped her scoot toward the table.

Pouring her another drink and himself a first, he wedged the linen-wrapped bottle back into the ice. He lifted his glass for a toast, and she leaned across to touch her glass to his.

"What shall we drink to?" he asked.

"World peace?" She feigned innocence at first. "How about drinking to us?"

"Perfect. To us." He tipped his glass, clinking it against hers.

"To us," Jemma repeated and took a sip. She did her best to concentrate on the food in front of her, instead of his king-sized bed.

The chicken breasts lay on top of a bed of tortellini and marinara sauce. Slices of bread filled a basket between their plates with two small bowls of Greek salad to the side. He'd obviously gone to great lengths to make sure everything was perfect. She watched him cut a piece of his chicken, spear a ring of tortellini on his fork, and raise it to his mouth.

Hmm, he has great lips.

Evidently, she stared a little too long.

"Is something wrong?" Tony returned his fork to his plate with the food untouched.

"Nope, I was just enjoying the view." Her stare lingered on his lips.

Mischief danced in his eyes, but he pointed to her plate, playfully barking, "Eat."

She sat up straight in her chair and saluted. "Yes, sir." She took a bite and instantly knew it was one of the best meals she'd ever experienced. She stopped herself before she got too full, remembering they would be dancing later—or other things that would be uncomfortable on a full stomach.

She grinned at the thought of those
other things
.

"You look positively evil right now."

"Just thinking," she purred.

"Would those thoughts include leather?" He punctuated his statement with a wink.

"No, but you're on the right track."

Reaching over to a shelf next to the table, Tony flipped on the stereo. The familiar tinkling of piano music brought a brilliant smile to Jemma's lips. The song "As Time Goes By
"
filled the night air.

"Care to dance?" Tony reached a hand across the table.

"I'd love to." She placed her hand in his and was tugged into his embrace.

He spun her around the patio as though they were one person. His body pressed tightly to hers as he stared intently into her eyes. As the song played on, she became more and more aware of his cologne, his touch, with each sway. When the song came to an end and another began, he stopped abruptly. He slid a finger across her cheek; his thumb traced the outline of her bottom lip, his eyes intent on every place he touched. Jemma's heart and mind melted into a passion filled puddle; her only tangible thought was that she might stop breathing if he didn't kiss her.

Luckily, he complied.

His lips brushed hers in a tender, sweet kiss, which progressed quickly into a heated, searing bond. His fingers trailed down her neck, lightly traced the neckline of her dress, and then crept down her sides to gently cup her breasts. Hunger consumed her with each nibble, each caress. Somewhere within the depths of Jemma's mind, the tiny warning voice grew fainter by the second. There was no turning back.

She didn't care.

Her body was in control now, her mind numbed with passion.

Tony's phone vibrated against her abdomen, and her head fell back in surprise. She raised an eyebrow in question.

"Oh, hell no," he murmured. His lips quickly claimed hers again.

Jemma's hands skimmed over the taut muscles of his chest, up his neck, and tangled in his silky hair. With her body pressed tightly against his, his hands swept around, pulling her even closer. The evidence of his arousal pushed against her abdomen, blocking out everything but her primal need.

Tony's phone vibrated again and again. On the fourth time, he unwound himself from her and pulled away, regret etching his features. He reached down and unhooked the phone from his belt, glancing at the number.

He inhaled a huge breath and let it out at once. "All of these have been from Kate. She never calls unless it is an emergency." He peered deeply into Jemma's eyes, silently asking permission.

"It's okay."

He hit redial. "Hello?" Tony walked away from her, threading the fingers of his free hand through his hair.

Jemma smoothed her dress back into place and did her best to regain some composure. All she could do was stare into the living room and follow the chimney up to his bedroom window. Anticipation brewed in her belly.

And a bit farther south.

"He did
what
?" Tony bellowed, spooking away the thoughts. "You've
got
to be kidding me." He dropped the phone away, mumbling a string of expletives, and then returned it to his ear. "I'll be right over." He swiped his phone off and shoved it back into the case on his belt.

Jemma walked over to him, lightly touching his arm to get his attention. "Is she okay?"

He spun toward her. "That bastard boyfriend of hers was caught at a seedy bar on Commercial Street with the woman he'd been cheating with." His jaw was set, pupils dilated, and fists clenched—all good signs that Dalton might want to consider never crossing Tony's path in the near future.

Or ever.

Her stomach clenched, but she knew she had to come clean about Dalton. He'd undoubtedly be furious, but he had to know. "Tony, I have to tell you something."

"Can you tell me in the car? Kate thinks she's having contractions and can't get a hold of anyone else. She won't go to the hospital, so I have to go talk sense into her." Sadness, anger, concern, and regret marred his handsome face.