Sweet Surrender (35 page)

The idea had merit. A sound paddling had always straightened her head out before, calmed her down, and made her think more clearly. He recalled fondly the incident with the Martha Stewart spatula and knew he would give all that he had for the chance to make her glorious ass glow bright red once again with an array of those S-shaped tattoos and afterward have her say she loved him while he cuddled her in his arms.

His eyes flicked back to her, so beautiful in the early morning sun. Jared was right. He was going to do whatever it took to get his woman back. Then he planned to get his ring on her finger before she could come up with some other wild idea about why they shouldn’t be together.

Her head twisted suddenly, looking directly at him, as if she knew his plans. His lips quirked up in a hint of a smile and gave her a wink. Startled, she eyed him warily. She was wise to be wary; his patience had run out. He was willing to bide his time for tonight and not interrupt the festivities, but come hell or high water and with a blazing hot ass and tear-stained cheeks, no doubt, she was going home with him tonight.

* * *

As she plodded barefoot through the sand, she gripped the older man’s arm, more to help him than for support, all the while cognizant of the tall, heart-stopping gorgeous man that assisted him on his other side. She cast a sidelong look at Marc, her eyes darting away when he turned to answer a question the kindly old minister had posed.

She didn’t register their words, her pulse pounding too loudly in her ears. After a solid month of pain, it hadn’t lessened one iota. Twenty-four hours a day she missed him, feeling the loss on a visceral level. She questioned her sanity, calling herself a fool for leaving as she reached for the phone ten times a day. That had changed when she’d seen him with Christina Barlow, telling herself she’d done the right thing, that he had moved on and found someone as beautiful, intelligent, and successful as he was, someone with the same background and similar interests and someone who wasn’t as messed up in the head as she was.

When they reached the wooden steps leading up to the boardwalk, she released the reverend’s arm, bending to put on her sandals. Grimacing at the grit of sand between the soles of her feet and her shoes, she slipped the straps over her ankles and then stood. She took the proffered arm, noting instantly it was thicker and more heavily muscled than the fatherly reverend. When she glanced up, it was into familiar golden brown eyes.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,
mio tesoro
.”

She choked on her heart as it leapt into her throat, at least it seemed that way, but she didn’t exaggerate the bounding beat of her pulse. “Marc…” His name was a tortured whisper. She’d been strong as long as she kept him at arm’s length; this close she could feel her resolve crumbling.

“You’ve lost weight, at least ten pounds by my guess. You haven’t been taking care of yourself,
cara
. I’m not happy about that in the least.”

She stiffened, opening her mouth to protest, to tell him she was no longer his concern. Her mouth snapped shut when Joanne and Russell Baker walked up beside them. As she turned with a fake smile pasted across her lips, her eyes shifted behind them to where Jared sat in the sand with Stacy. She was wedged between his widespread thighs as she was twisted backwards, her hands threaded in his dark hair as they kissed. It was a sweet, romantic moment for them, but like a dagger in her heart.

Suppressing the pain, she put on a brave face and forced a smile. “It was a beautiful ceremony, Joanne.”

“Yes, it was. Too bad, I bawled through the whole thing. I almost missed Stacy’s demand for a do-over.”

“A do-over,” Russ chuckled along with his wife. “Leave it to Stacy to want to repeat the whole thing because she was so dreamy-eyed that she missed it. Jared won’t have another dull moment for the rest of his days.”

“Yeah,” Marc muttered so softly it was barely audible, “damn lucky bastard.”

Jessie heard though, not as easily as the heavy thud of his footsteps as he climbed the wooden steps, but she’d heard all the same. Tears threatening, she turned to follow. Joanne Baker’s hand squeezed her shoulder, stopping her. “I’m sorry, Jessie. Is there anything I can do?”

“It’s fine, thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go sign some papers as one of the witnesses.” Blinking back tears, she trailed after Marc, her shorter legs following at a much slower pace.

* * *

With the French doors thrown wide, she turned up her face and greedily soaked up the warm offshore breeze and absorbed the rhythmic and soothing crash of the waves upon the beach, committing it to memory. With her student loans and bills, heaven only knew if she’d ever get to experience it again. Heaving a resigned sigh, she turned her back on the beautiful seascape and faced the next task on the agenda of what should have been a wonderfully exciting and happy day. Instead of fully celebrating her friend’s happiness, she was going through the motions with one goal in mind, avoiding her ex-fiancé with who she was still hopelessly in love.

After the sunrise wedding, they’d all toured the beautiful beach house that Jared had gifted to his bride—a beach house as a wedding gift! Unimaginable, especially to a girl who grew up in a trailer park. Oceanfront with private beach access, it had six bedrooms, all with private balconies. The one she was assigned to for the weekend was done in a soft buttery yellow. It was huge, almost as big as the entire first floor of her old condo, twice the size of her mother’s home. The four-post bed was king-sized with sheer curtains draped softly from a honey-colored wood frame. Even with the huge bed and its matching vanity dresser, twin nightstands, and corner armoire, there was still ample room for the seating area in front of the stone fireplace. Double doors opened into a private bathroom with a Jacuzzi and elegant stone steps leading up to a separate glass-enclosed shower with its rainforest showerhead in the ceiling and four others on the walls.

It was beautiful, exactly what she would have picked out for herself if she had money to burn, but she couldn’t find the heart to enjoy any of it. Resigning herself to a few more hours of fake smiles and forced laughter, she slipped her evening dress off the padded hanger and began to dress for the last event of the day, the reception. Afterwards, she’d get a good night’s sleep and head back to her dull life in Michigan, alone and pathetic. Her only worry… how she was going to get through the rest of the night without throwing herself at Marc’s feet and begging him to take her back and love her again.

If you weren’t such a fool, that’s exactly what you’d do.

That damned voice in her head.

No one she talked to understood how she could walk away from Marc with his good looks, easy smile, and his bank account. When they mentioned the last attribute, Jessie changed the subject, knowing they’d never understand. It wasn’t about dollars and cents, not really. It was about security, peace of mind.

Yeah? How is that peace of mind at keeping you warm at night?

There it went again. Rationally, she knew it wasn’t a real voice, just her insecurity and self-doubt, with a big whopping dose of guilt thrown in lately. Yep, therapy was definitely in her future. When she got back, she was calling Stacy’s therapist and silencing the voice once and for all.

Her best friend had dropped by her mother’s last week, as she’d done every week since she and Marc had imploded. Although Jessie had put on a brave front, Stacy hadn’t been fooled.

“Jess, honey, you’re breaking my heart,” Stacy said sadly, “you’re miserable, Marc’s miserable, and both of you are making everyone around you miserable too. Something has to give.” She’d then slipped her psychologist’s business card into her hand as she hugged her goodbye, tears streaming down her face.

She’d promised that she would think about it, but Jessie knew now, after seeing Marc again, that thinking time was past; it was time for action before she slipped from neurotic into psychotic and did something really outrageous.

As images popped into her mind of Marc looking harried in the car and hearing his frustrated knock on her mother’s door, and looking so drop-dead gorgeous today, she worried that ship had already sailed.

* * *

The celebration was a huge success. Leave it to Joanne to pull off a destination wedding reception, fly in thirty guests on a chartered plane, and arrange a stunning beach venue in West Palm Beach, all without Stacy’s knowledge. The bride had protested anything formal. This was elegant and intimate, with no more than thirty-six of the couple’s closest friends and family, including the wedding party. As an extra surprise, Joanne had flown Stacy’s friends from college in from all across the country. Lucky girl, she had the perfect mother-in-law.

Jessie grimaced as she thought of Mariella Trent. The only silver lining she’d found in her breakup with Marc was that she no longer had to deal with Endora and the three witches of Bloomfield.

“What was that face about?” Stacy asked as she came up beside her at the balcony railing. The second floor banquet hall had a grand terrace with a spectacular view of the beach at sunset. Jessie kept migrating there. She’d fulfilled her duties as maid of honor, including the requisite toast to the happy couple. It was unfortunate she’d had to follow Marc, who’d brought down the house with tales from his and Jared’s misbegotten youth and college days, but she’d held her own and even managed to get a few laughs between tears.

She’d been a nervous wreck, especially with Marc sitting only a few feet away with his gaze locked on her, following her every movement. She hoped the guests thought her tears were for her friend, but she cried if she broke a nail lately, it seemed.

Turning to Stacy now, she quirked a brow in question, knowing she’d asked her something although having no idea what.

“Poor Jess, you’re so far away these days. It’s Marc, isn’t it? Do you want to go? I’ll understand. I don’t think I could stand to be in the same room with Jared if we’d broken up so painfully.”

“No, I’m okay. I came all this way to support you, I’m not gonna bail on you now.”

Stacy put her arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “I love you for that, Jess, but there is dancing coming up. You know what that means.”

“The first dance?”

“Yes, and according to tradition, the best man and maid of honor take a turn on the dance floor afterward.”

Her stomach twisted and she couldn’t swallow. How would she possibly bear being in his arms again? “Stacy, I don’t think I can.”

“That’s what I thought. To hell with tradition, if you don’t want to dance with him, I’ll have Jared tell the band to skip that step. I’ll understand if you want to go, and if you want to swipe a bottle of champagne on your way out, be my guest.”

Jessie blew out slowly between pursed lips, trying to steady her breathing. Instantly, she recalled the time she had hyperventilated and Marc had helped her through it. Naturally, what had followed inundated her thoughts; the spanking on the stairs, the belt, and the subsequent cuddle in his arms after he’d made her scream in ecstasy.

Stop being such a crybaby,
she scolded herself.
You left him, remember?

“No,” she told Stacy firmly. “I’m staying. What’s one more awkward moment, right? Besides, I can’t hide from him forever. We work at the same place. I need to get used to seeing him, talking to him like an adult, seeing him with other women.”

“What? You’re not serious. Who?”

“Christina Barlow.”

“The Amazon from La Scala? No way! He wouldn’t.”

“He did. I saw them at the hospital. She was rubbing all over him, his hands were on her waist, and she kissed him. It made me sick.”

“I hope you told him off?”

“No, Stacy. Taking on a bitchy woman at a restaurant with my girl posse at my back is one thing, doing the same with the man I cruelly dumped and who has decided to move on is another. No, that’s more your bold-as-brass style. Me, I ran like a pathetic coward who couldn’t bear to watch.”

“That bastard! He’s been professing his undying love for you to Jared and the whole time had another woman on the side.”

“Wait. He did what?”

Stacy went on with her tirade as if Jessie hadn’t spoken. “Moving on is one thing, I understand that, but after less than a month? No! Piling on the agony by rebounding with an old flame right beneath your very nose, at your place of work, is not cool.”

“Not that. Tell me about the undying love part.”

“Oh, well, this whole time I thought he was as broken as you. Crying on Jared’s shoulder about how he loved you, needed you, and would do anything to get you back. Blah, blah, blah… Wait until I get a hold of that jerk. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

“No, please don’t.”

“But, Jess—”

“No, Stacy, just leave it. I’ll get through tonight and after it’s over, there won’t be any reason for us to be thrown together socially. If I’m lucky, I’ll get the new job I told you about and we can both move on. Christina is of his social class and his mother will be ecstatic.”

“Who cares about social class? If money makes you act like Marc, the Barlow bitch, or his shrew of a mother, who needs it?”

“I bet she helps her with the wedding plans when the time comes.”

The last was said as the piano music began playing in the background.

“It’s time for the dancing. Jared will be looking for me.”

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

“You aren’t coming?”

“Give me a minute. I have to fortify my mental shields, then I’ll be in.”

“Atta girl.” Stacy turned back toward the room. A frown furrowed her brow as she patted her best friend’s shoulder, murmuring, “As nana used to say, ‘never let ‘em see you flinch.’”

“You gotta love nana.”

Stacy’s frown had become an out-and-out scowl as she moved away.

Jessie noticed, but she was too distracted, consumed with images of Marc standing tall and sexy in black tie and tails at the front of the church. He waited for his bride, willowy Christina Barlow, who walked down the center aisle toward him all decked out in a stunning designer gown. The church teemed with family and friends who came to witness the joining of the striking couple and wish them well.