Undercover Heat (23 page)

Cullen shoved his shoulder. “Lay off the bridesmaid, Jack.”

Hey, what's the problem?” Jack teased. “We're both consenting adults. If she wants to sit in my lap, she has every right to do so.”

“There wasn't anywhere else to sit,” Kennedy protested, feeling the need to defend herself. “And you pulled me into your lap.”

“Aw, that hurt. Are you saying you would have been happy riding in any old lap that was handy?”

“No!”

Kennedy could relate to Cullen's reluctance to being in the spotlight. She hated knowing everyone in the limo was watching her, was laughing at her obvious discomfort. Jack thought he was helping, but truthfully she would have preferred to have ridden to the reception by herself, even if it would have meant missing out on the feel of his muscular chest against her back, his impressive erection against her ass.

Damn, she was becoming a harlot in her own head. It really had been too long since she'd enjoyed skin-to-skin contact with a man.

“I'm sorry,” she muttered, her eyes closed, her body tense as she focused every bit of attention on the effort not to move.

“Don't apologize,” Jack admonished. “I was just teasing you.”

They arrived at the reception site, and Kennedy bolted from the vehicle almost before it came to a complete stop. As she reached for the front door, she turned her head, glanced over her shoulder—and saw Jack, standing next to the limo, a contemplative expression on his face. Kennedy wondered why he appeared so pensive.

• • •

“It's beautiful,” Sabrina declared as she and Cullen stepped into the ballroom, greeted by a round of applause and catcalls from their guests.

“You're beautiful,” Cullen murmured, using the opportunity to nuzzle her ear. Sabrina giggled and did not push him away.

“Marriage seems to agree with Cullen,” Jack commented as he and Kennedy stood side by side, next to the head table, watching as the new bride and groom were introduced.

“Cullen agrees with Sabrina,” Kennedy responded.

“They're good for each other. She brings out the best in him.”

“And he balances her.”

“Match made in heaven,” Jack said, his voice light with sarcasm.

Kennedy chuckled. “Hardly. They're practically opposites. But they do prove the old adage that opposites attract.”

Cullen and Sabrina moved onto the dance floor as the band struck up the cords of “Just the Way You Are” by Billy Joel. Kennedy glanced at Jack, and they burst out laughing.

“Our turn,” Jack murmured, and then he led her out onto the dance floor.

As it turned out, he was a good dancer. He exuded a certain confidence and grace that was both slightly intimidating and overwhelming for someone like her, who hadn't had a great deal of self-confidence even before she'd allowed her ex to walk all over her.

“You're a good dancer,” Jack remarked as they swayed to the music. One hand rested lightly on the small of her back, while the other clasped her hand, gently guiding her around the dance floor.

“Thanks. It's because I have a good partner.”

“We fit together well,” Jack said, and he sent her into a twirl before catching her and resuming the dance again.

“Oh,” she gasped.

Jack winked. “Stick with me, babe. I'm full of surprises.”

The song ended, and the wedding party left the dance floor and made their way to the head table so that dinner could be announced.

• • •

Dinner led to the cake-cutting ceremony and an endless stream of toasts. Kennedy gave her own tearful tribute, thanking Sabrina for being there for her own wedding and for giving Kennedy the opportunity to do the same for her.

Jack whispered to Cullen, “I didn't realize she's married.”

“Was. She's been divorced a while. Three years, I think.”

“What? Was she sixteen when she got married?”

“Twenty-five, actually.”

“How long did it last?”

“Couple years. He cheated on her, so she left him.”

Jack studied Kennedy's tearful performance. “She doesn't look like the type a guy would cheat on.”

Cullen shrugged. “Some guys like variety, I guess, regardless of how good the catch they have. Oh hell, now they're both crying.” He stood up to comfort his wife, who was hugging Kennedy and openly sobbing. Jack stood up and pulled the microphone from Kennedy's hand.

“I guess that's my cue,” he said as he offered her a cloth napkin to dab her eyes. “Kennedy's good at the sappy stuff; I'm good at the funny stuff.”

That elicited a round of appreciative chuckles, and then he launched into the first of several amusing stories about some of his partner's less-than-stellar moments in life. Cullen's brother stood up and joined him at the mic, and within a few short minutes, they had the crowd roaring with laughter, all at the groom's expense.

He took it good-naturedly, though, lifting his drink in mock toast and saying, “I'm pretty sure I finally got it right now,” just before he dipped his head and kissed his smiling wife.

“Thanks for taking over,” Kennedy said as Jack dropped into the chair next to her. “I didn't mean to get so emotional up there. I guess I've had a little too much to drink.”

“Haven't we all?” He lifted his glass and drained it. “Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a wedding?”

She smiled and took another sip from her champagne glass. “I'm not sure “supposed to” is necessarily accurate. Although you're right that it is pretty common.”

“More champagne or something else?” he asked.

“I like the champagne,” she admitted. “But I don't know if there is any left.”

“Sure there is,” he said, and he stood up and left the table. When he returned, he held a bottle of champagne in one hand and a glass of bourbon and Coke in the other. He filled her glass and stuffed the bottle into the ice bucket sitting at her elbow.

“Where'd you get it?” Kennedy asked as she sipped at her drink.

“Charmed it off one of the waitresses.”

She shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?”

Jack wanted to sleep with her, but he was not interested in anything more than a quick fling. Still, it irritated him that she thought he was
that
guy. Especially now that he knew her ex-husband had cheated on her. He didn't want her to believe all guys were like her ex. Even though he intended for their affair to be brief, he wanted her to understand that she was special for that short time. Jack prided himself on the fact that none of his liaisons left the experience with a bitter taste in their mouth.

“Come on, let's mingle.” He held out his hand in invitation. She placed her hand into his, and he tugged her to her feet, leading her away from the table without releasing her hand.

“Are you and Sabrina the only ones in the family who live in New Orleans?” he inquired as they walked.

Kennedy nodded. “Practically everyone else lives in Dallas. That's why Sabrina got married here, instead of in New Orleans.”

“Is that what you'll do, when you get married someday?”

She shook her head. “Not getting married again.”

Her tone bothered him. It was as if she were giving up on something without ever having given it a chance in the first place. Even though she had been married once before, he determined that one didn't count. She hadn't had any control in the way it ended.

Whatever she might have replied was lost when she smiled fondly, clearly pleased about something. He was momentarily bowled over by the way the smile lit up her face before he shook it off and shifted his gaze to determine what caused her such obvious joy.

“Who's that?” he asked, nodding at the older couple and young man who were standing near the edge of the dance floor, talking animatedly. The woman in the group waved enthusiastically in their direction.

Kennedy's smile widened and she lifted her hand to wave back. “My parents. And my brother, Carter.”

“Carter?” Jack arched his blond brow.

Kennedy giggled. “My parents have a thing for presidential names.”

“I'll say.”

“You have a problem with that, Jack?”

“Actually, my name is Jackson.” He grinned cheekily when she continued giggling. He liked the sound of her giggle. He had the sense she didn't do it often, and he felt a moment of pride that he was able to elicit the reaction so easily. He glanced at the half-empty champagne glass in her hand and decided to pretend she was so relaxed because of him, not the alcohol.

“Let's go say hi,” he suggested. As they walked toward the group, his gaze swept the room.

“What are you looking for?”

“The maid of honor.”

“Still having issues with Vanessa?”

“She's drunk and she keeps hitting on me. And by the way, I'm definitely throwing off
not interested
vibes.”

He liked the relieved look that flashed in her eyes. He liked that he was able to put it there.

By the time they reached the gathering, another woman had joined them, wrapping her arms around Kennedy's brother from behind, and resting her chin on his shoulder. He looked faintly embarrassed by the public display of affection.

“That's Sheryl, my brother's girlfriend,” Kennedy whispered just before they stepped to within hearing distance of the small family gathering. “She's a little much to take when you first meet her,” she warned.

Kennedy's parents were typical warm and friendly Southern folk. Both greeted Jack warmly, complimented him on his amusing speech, and thanked him for watching out for their daughter. Kennedy rolled her eyes.

“He isn't even my date, Mom,” she protested. “We just happened to be in the wedding party together.”

Mrs. St. George eyed Jack in a way that would make a lesser man uncomfortable. “You two sure looked good walking down the aisle together.”

“Mo-o-o-m.”

Kennedy's annoyance at her mother's broad hint made it easier for him to take it in stride. Otherwise, he might have gone running in the other direction. Matchmaking Mamas ranked up there with married women on his
not interested
list.

“Maybe it's just him,” Kennedy's brother's girlfriend purred. She straightened away from Carter and strutted over, surprising everyone by enveloping Jack in a full-body hug.

Jack disengaged himself and chuckled. “Well, that's a hell of a greeting.”

Sheryl smiled coyly and batted heavily made-up blue eyes. “There's more where that came from.”

Carter scowled. His mother tried to divert everyone's attention by speaking overly loudly about how lovely the wedding was, and how delicious the food was, and how adorable the bride and groom were.

“Honey, we're going to have to consider moving to New Orleans at this rate,” she said to her husband. “It seems every time one of the children on your side of the family gets married, that's where they end up.”

“Vanessa still lives in Dallas,” her husband remarked. “What about you, Carter? You going to move to New Orleans when you get married?”

“Not getting married,” he said distractedly.

Jack found it curious that both siblings were so anti-marriage when their parents appeared to have a healthy, loving relationship. Was he curious enough to ask Kennedy about it, or would that lead her to the wrong conclusion about what he expected out of today?

Sheryl continued to flirt with him, making it easy to banish any thoughts regarding marriage and futures. Jack figured if Carter ever did want to get married, this was definitely not the right choice.

Kennedy, he noticed, was assessing the situation. He suspected she was trying to determine a way to help her brother out of this embarrassing predicament. Before Jack could ascertain what she planned to do, she wrapped her arms around his bicep and said, “Come on, Jack. Dance with me.”

He tossed her an amused look and politely excused them both before leading her out to the dance floor. “Sacrificing yourself for your brother's happiness?” he teased.

“It's not really a sacrifice. But that was pretty bold of her to flirt with you right under Carter's nose.”

“She was just flirting.”

“Just flirting
more often than not leads to other activities.”

Her tone was icy. It took Jack a few seconds to realize why.

“Sorry. I forgot. About your ex, I mean.”

She shook her head. “It's not me I'm worried about,” she explained. “I don't want my brother to get hurt, that's all.”

He didn't believe her, not entirely, but he was wise enough to let the subject drop. Instead, he pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzled her ear.

“This isn't a slow song,” she pointed out. Her voice sounded awfully breathy.

“Yeah, I know. But I like holding you in my arms. It feels good.”

“Oh.”

• • •

Kennedy wished she were wittier. It seemed all she could ever say around Jack was “oh.” Not exactly stimulating responses.

Jack was certainly stimulated. They were close enough that she could feel his erection pressing into her belly. He wasn't trying to hide it, either. When he nuzzled her ear, she tilted her head to give him better access. And then she realized what was happening.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Hitting on you. Is it working?”

“Um …”

“Want to go somewhere more private?”

“Umm …”

He twirled her away, pulled her back, and caught her, squeezing her more tightly than he had been a moment before. Kennedy forgot to breathe. She was distantly aware of the fact that he was backing her off the dance floor. She knew she should, but she made no move to stop him. Sabrina's warning echoed in her head, but all she could think was,
I deserve to have fun tonight. I can handle a one-night stand
.