Susan Mallery - Dream Wedding

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. There was no way she could tell him she’d been thinking about that dream. He would want to know the details. He was already intrigued by the story of the Bradley family nightgown and the legend. She didn’t dare think what he would make of her story.

“It has to be something,” he insisted. His expression turned teasing. “I have ways of making you talk.”

“Some spell or curse?”

“Nothing that drastic.”

He tilted his head toward her. Instinctively she raised hers. This was not professional, she reminded herself, then she decided she didn’t care. They’d been heading toward this moment since they met. She wanted to kiss him. She needed to kiss him. She had to know if it was the same as she remembered.

His mouth brushed against hers. They weren’t standing all that close. His hands rested on her waist, hers were on his forearms. For a second—as her body registered the sensations of his heat, the firm softness of his mouth—she couldn’t do anything more than absorb what was happening.

Then she felt it. The absolute electrical jolt that shot through her. It was hotter and brighter than lightning. It was recognition and need and passion and color, as if every part of her being responded to this man. Even more terrifying, it was familiar.

She knew what he was going to do even before he parted his lips. She knew the taste and feel of him. She knew how his hands would slide up her back, how she would step into his embrace, how their bodies would fit together. The knowledge only increased her desire. She wanted him because being with him was so incredibly perfect, she thought as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

Her breasts swelled, that secret place between her legs dampened. She felt his hardness press against her hip bone. They breathed in sync. She tilted her head one way, he moved the opposite, so they could deepen the contact. Reunited lovers kissing for the first time.

It was better than she remembered, she thought, then wondered how she could remember kissing a man she’d never kissed before. The dream didn’t count. It wasn’t real. Then she stopped thinking because her brain shut down. She could only feel him next to her, holding her, touching her. Their bodies fit perfectly together. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her fingers in his cool, soft hair. His shoulders were broad, as was his chest. Every part of him had been put together with her pleasure and enjoyment in mind...or so it seemed.

Tongues circled and danced and mated. She wanted more from him. She wanted to feel him inside of her; she wanted him to claim her and mark her in the most primitive, primal way of all.

At last, he drew back slightly, breaking the kiss. His breathing was as labored as hers. He rested his forehead against hers and exhaled.

“Pretty amazing,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Even better than I thought, and I thought it would be great.”

“Me, too.”

He tucked a loose curl behind her ear, then brushed his thumb against her cheek. His eyes were bright with passion. She could feel the need radiating from him. Faint tremors rippled through his hands.

“Chloe, I—”

He lowered his head and she knew he was going to kiss her again. She also knew that this time they might not stop at kissing.

“There you two are. We’ve been looking everywhere. Isn’t the ballroom lovely? They always do such a great job with the decorations.”

Cassie’s voice cut through the quiet of the night. Instantly, they stepped apart. Chloe touched a finger to her mouth and wondered if her lips were swollen.

“Hi,” she managed, hoping that her expression wouldn’t give her away. The last thing she needed was Cassie’s knowing glances, or getting the third degree when they were both home later.

Cassie gave her sister a quick smile and turned to Arizona. “I wanted Joel to meet you.” She looked at her boyfriend. “Joel, this is Arizona Smith.”

The two men shook hands. While Arizona looked elegant in his tailored tux, Joel was obviously ill at ease in his too-small navy suit. He had the disgruntled air of a man who would rather be home watching a movie on cable.

Chloe suppressed a sigh. Joel was perfectly decent. A pleasant enough man, with short blond hair and pale blue eyes.

“Did you catch the Giants’ score?” Arizona asked. “When I left my room, they were ahead three to two.”

Joel’s sullen expression eased. “Dodgers tied it up in the eighth, but that was when we got here and had to park the car. I don’t know what it is now.”

“I’m sure they have a television in the bar,” Arizona offered.

“Great.” Joel turned his attention to Cassie. “Would you mind if we checked?”

“Of course not.” She gave a little wave, then took Joel’s hand. “We’ll see you later.”

“Save me a dance,” Arizona called after her.

Cassie giggled.

Chloe watched her go. “It’s only the beginning of the baseball season and already he would rather watch a game than anything. What on earth does she see in him?” She leaned against the railing, then straightened abruptly. “Wait a minute. How did you know Joel was interested in sports?”

Arizona shrugged. “Many men are and he looks like the type. I wasn’t trying to get rid of him, but I figured if he watched the last inning, he wouldn’t sulk when Cassie wanted to dance.”

“Good thinking. I wish...” Her voice trailed off.

“That he were a different kind of man?”

“Exactly. She deserves better.”

“But he’s the one she wants.”

“Is he?” Chloe wasn’t so sure. “He’s the only man she’s ever dated. How is she supposed to know what she wants? She should get out there and experience life. She deserves someone who will love her and cherish her. Someone intelligent. Not Joel.” She rubbed her temple. “It’s an old argument and one I’ve never won. After all, it’s her life.”

“You and Cassie are very close.”

It wasn’t a question.

“We always have been.”

“It’s none of my business, but why are you so angry at your aunt Charity?”

She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d suddenly grown horns. Her first instinct was to ask him how he figured it out. Her second was to tell him to mind his own business. Her third was to wonder if she was that obvious.

“I don’t know,” she said at last, glad the shadows on the patio would hide her face. She didn’t want him to know what she was thinking. She did know why she was angry with her aunt, but she wasn’t ready to deal with it. She might never be ready.

“Want to talk about it?”

His perceptions suddenly annoyed her. How did he always know what she was thinking? How dare he always know the right thing to say or do! “Only if you want to talk about why, if your father is still alive, your grandfather raised you.”

“Touché,” he said. “I’m sorry. I should learn to leave tender ground alone. I’m sorry.”

She ducked her head. “No, I’m being snippy. I’m the one who should apologize.”

“Okay.”

She looked up at him.

He grinned. “I’m waiting,” he told her.

“I apologize.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re willing to say? No declaration of your unworthiness? Of how gracious I am to put up with you? Nothing about—”

She lightly slapped his arm. “Stop it.”

He stepped back in mock alarm. “Violence. I don’t know what to say. I’d been about to suggest we find a quiet room somewhere and make wild passionate love together, but now I’m not sure I can trust you not to take physical advantage of my person. I guess we’re just going to have to dance, instead.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh, agree to the lovemaking, or slap him again. “You make me crazy.”