The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) (18 page)

“Aw, that’s not cool.”

“Look,” Andi said hurriedly. “Don’t waste precious time trying to figure out if you can trust Ryan. He’s a Sommerfield. They don’t fuck around. You let us worry about Tara, and you focus on you.”

“Yes, Mom.” She giggled.

“And when we leave here, you and I are marching into the first drugstore we find and laying in a stock of condoms.”

She started to object, but Andi was having none of it. Waving her hand dismissively, she pinned Sam to the spot with her signature Evers raised brow.

“Listen up, girlfriend—you are young, beautiful, and single. An underwear model has a hard time concentrating when you’re around. If that’s not enough reason to buy a crate of protection, well. . .maybe you should re-evaluate your priorities.”

Priorities, indeed.

T
he day of Ky’s wedding started with a breathtaking dawn that was so incredible, Ryan grabbed his camera and clicked off dozens of pictures. Colors like that couldn’t be described. Maybe he’d let one of the creative people in his newest shop loose on taking the best of the shots and putting it on a stretched canvas. Something for Kyle and Andi as a memory of their special day.

Room service arrived on time with an early breakfast he quickly inhaled, and after that, he took maximum advantage of the banging glass enclosed shower room. Big enough for a family of four, he fiddled with the multiple showerheads until they produced a head-to-toe pounding spray and indulged in a long, steamy shower while going through the basket of bath and body products provided by the spa.

After that, he wandered around his room and spent ten minutes pretending to peruse the daily news before throwing in the towel of complete indifference. Didn’t matter what the breaking news of the day was when all he could focus on was Samantha.

Dressed in nothing but a pair of cotton bikini briefs because in this climate less was better, he ended up on the patio where once again, he got comfortable and let his mind wander in the direction of a certain golden goddess who was turning his life upside down.

He’d only seen her briefly last night—a fact that bummed him out to no end. Hanging with his family yesterday had been shit-tons of fun, but he had a hard time containing the enthusiastic anticipation of getting back to Samantha that followed him morning, noon, and night.

When they finally met up, the strangest thing happened. As soon as he saw her—no, fuck that, as soon as he felt her presence, Ryan shifted into a kind of fugue state of total awareness. It was like being on high alert, with every nerve ending in his body vibrating with excitement.

Every time he laid eyes on Samantha Evers, she got prettier and more fascinating. Her magnetic energy captivated him. When their eyes met, his heart did a triple thump. And then she smiled. At him. Just for him. Didn’t matter a gaggle of overly excited wedding goers surrounded them because it was just the two of them at that moment.

And the best part? Her eyes told him in no uncertain terms that she’d been thinking about him.

Winning.

In the midst of this contemplative reverie, he paused to touch base with the reason any of this was happening.

Kyle and Andrea.

None of them would be together on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean if not for the ceremony taking place in a few hours. He sniggered at the thought that in a way he felt like he was cheating on the radiant couple by lusting after a girl he’d only just met.

Base touched and acknowledged, he went back to thinking about Samantha. He’d picked up loads of wedding details yesterday by paying attention to his mother and sister’s conversations. They loved teasing him about his style knowledge. It was unnatural for a guy, they said, to recognize and be able to critique fashion fails.

Ryan grinned. It was true. He’d picked up a lot during his modeling days. His wise-ass sister went so far as to suggest that this insider’s understanding gave him a superpower badge. Women, it would seem, were delighted by a man who noticed shit.

And something he’d definitely noticed yesterday? Whenever talk of the bridesmaid’s dresses came up, his mom and Ali would conspiratorially whisper. The secretive vibe caught his attention, but they were experts at covering and deflecting. Before he knew it, they were divulging details about Andi’s dress after making him swear on a stack of imaginary Bibles that he wouldn’t tell Kyle.

Andrea Frank was one smart lady. Ryan knew for a fact that his cousin worshiped at the altar of his fiancée’s ass. They’d even discussed her sensational attributes, although in a completely straight-faced and respectful way.

He’d teased his cousin when the subject came up. “I didn’t think that sort of thing interested you.”

Kyle was quick to answer, and his explanation was lovesick gold.

“It didn’t,” he’d admitted with wide eyes and an open expression. “And then Andi happened. You’ve seen her, uh. . .derrière, right?”

“Dude,” Ryan had chirped with absolute glee. “Derrière? Aunt Mel would be so proud of you.”

They’d laughed at the absurdity of it all, but Ryan quietly did his own assessment and found Andi’s posterior to be worthy of Kyle’s knuckle-dragging adoration. It kind of was spectacular.

Hearing his mom gush about the simple, elegant design of Andi’s dress made him smile, and when Ali added the reveal that the focal point of the gown was the bride’s badonk-a-donk, he’d offered the ladies a high five of male approval.

The men were wearing pale gray vests and pants with a lightweight white shirt. Casual, no tie, and Ferragamo slip-ons with Kyle in a similar gray suit. When they’d had a final fitting, Miguel complained that he would be sweating like a boar in minutes. When they all nodded and agreed, the compromise involved taking the look über casual by rolling back the sleeves. Ryan approved of the suggestion for purely selfish reasons. It meant he could flash one of his favorite watches.

Oh, my god,
he thought with a snorting chuckle.
I really am a pussy!

He had no idea what other guys collected, but for him, a watch was the ultimate fashion statement. In his walk-in closet at home, he had two glass-topped wood boxes for all his watches.

Oh, he wasn’t insane about it, though. Sure, he wanted a ten thousand dollar Rolex watch, but he worked too damn hard to waste his money on stupid vanity shit. Mostly, he stuck to things he was drawn to that were less than a grand. Of the half dozen watches he brought for the trip, he was smugly pleased that the Swiss-made Armani had a dark gray leather strap.

And why?

Because it was hard not to notice that Samantha all but quivered when it came to leather. He’d caught her more than once staring intently at his belt or his watch, and her obvious fascination intrigued him. Did she even know how transparent her interest was?

With the golden goddess, all signs pointed to the sexy lady being the ultimate alpha prize. He saw it in her eyes—mostly because she wasn’t savvy enough to hide it from him. Samantha Evers was never more female than when he was lording his alpha ways over her. Matter of fact, she craved it.

Fuck. How many more hours until he saw her? Springing off the chair, he headed into the room and grabbed a sketchbook off the desk. If he had to cool his jets with a waiting game, he was going to spend the time productively. A design appeared in his mind’s eye just as he’d awakened, and he wanted to sketch it out.

Samantha. Ethereal, soft, graceful. Surrounded by swirls of energy. Infusing the images with a calming vibe was easy, but he wanted to add the undercurrent of fierce physical attraction he felt for the delicate beauty.

As he sat on the sofa and lifted an ankle to his knee before his pencil had made contact with the paper, he was already wondering once again just what she was doing and whether she was as excited for the day ahead as he was.

Okay. Seriously. Why the hell couldn’t every day start with an open-air massage and a pot of serenity tea?

The wonderful surprise, arranged by Kyle and Andi as a special thank you for Sam, was absolute perfection.

Getting a massage was a secret guilty pleasure—one she rarely had the time or money for—so this indulgent interlude was the sort of thing she made sure to take in and enjoy.

As the talented masseuse worked out every knot and kink along her spine, Sam relaxed when a warm and fuzzy feeling of peaceful contentment took hold.

This? This right here? This was bliss.

Ahhh.

Ryan’s sexy gaze invaded her thoughts. He had this way of observing that turned her to mush.

Next, she fantasized about his hands. She’d noticed them the first time they met. She wondered if he had yet another watch in his arsenal of many accessories because man oh man, she’d lost her crap on a regular basis with him. The way he dressed and carried himself had swoon-worthy tattooed permanently on his ass.

The guy was sex-on-a-stick perfection.

By the time her masseuse was finished, Sam had fantasized herself into a desire coma.

Staying focused on Andi’s needs was the only way to contain the hungry longing Ryan Sommerfield inspired.

Once the masseuse went on her way and room service collected everything, Sam threw off her robe and did a bunch of stretches. Not an exhibitionist by nature—not at all, actually—her penchant for being naked when alone would probably shock people.

Something about the way her skin reacted to the air. She liked the sensation very much. A long-held wish of hers was for a private sundeck where she could enjoy herself by being butt-ass naked outside.

Taking aside the clip she used to keep her hair out of the masseuse’s way, she shook out the long mane and ruffled her fingers back and forth across her scalp. Eyeing the bridesmaid outfit she and the other women were wearing, Sam smiled and then laughed out loud.

Oh. My. God.

They were going to suck the oxygen from the event before Andi made her bridal appearance. Her friend’s amusing sense of bold wittiness found a home when it came time to plan a wedding. Only Andi Frank could remotely pull off something like this.

Sam’s eyes searched the room when she heard her phone going off.
Crap.
Dashing around, she followed the sound of the ringtone until she found it tucked under a sofa cushion.

It was her mom calling. More than a little surprised, she connected the call. “Hi, Mom. What’s up? Everything okay?”

They’d had a wonderful talk yesterday when her folks video-called with Andi and Kyle so it was a little surprising that her mom would be calling.

“Sweetie. . .” Her mom sighed. Sam heard the heaviness and grimaced at the sound. “It might be time for Andrea to divorce her mom. That woman shouldn’t be allowed to call herself a mother.”

Uh-oh. This didn’t sound good. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Well, Daddy and I thought we’d call early to surprise Andi. We can’t believe she’s getting married, and we’re on the other side of the globe.”

Oh, right. “What time is it there, Mom?”

“Don’t ask,” was the sardonic response. “Kyle answered her phone—the poor man. When I teased him that he shouldn’t be with her before the wedding, he almost broke down. It seems Dolores saddled up her broom and dumped a raft of unholy meanness on Andi’s head. The bitch.”

Sam’s eyes got huge. Oh, lordy. If Judy Evers was swearing, everyone had best take cover.

“Shit,” she muttered as her eyes danced around the room looking for something to put on in case she had to step in.

“Andi showed up at Kyle’s room in the middle of the night. He said she was a snot-covered mess and couldn’t stop crying. I think it’s a good bet Dolores is lucky to still be breathing. Dad said if he were there, he would take the dastardly woman down once and for all.”

“Bet he used the word dastardly, huh?”

“Yes, he did. We wanted to give you a heads-up. Andi and I talked for almost an hour, and I think she was calmer at the end, but you should check on her, Samantha. Casually, ya know?”

“Mom. You’re the best. Thanks for telling me; and you know what else? Thanks for being Andi’s second mom and dad. She loves you guys and so does Kyle.”

“Daddy and I were thinking maybe we could all have a nice long visit when we get back. What do you think, honey? Can you take some time to hop across the country to Florida? Sure would be nice.”