Jackie Braun - Inconveniently Wed!

“I’m waiting, Adonis.” Her smile was smug.

His gaze lingered on her lips. They looked soft and sweet and way too inviting. Crazy? What he was thinking of doing right now certainly qualified. He waited for sanity to return. It didn’t, and instead of stepping back from the ledge he jumped off it.

“How about this?” he asked as he cupped the back of Serena’s neck and pulled her toward him.

The kiss was brief and, as public displays of affection went, hardly over the top. Yet it proved to be as big a turn-on as foreplay. Even the zap of electricity he’d experienced at their handshake hadn’t prepared him for this wicked snap of desire. Afterward, he wasn’t sure which of them was more shocked. They gaped at each other as Molly studied her nails.

“Speechless?” Jonas prodded as he awaited Serena’s comeback.

He expected whatever she said to be flippant, perhaps even rude. He’d certainly earned a cutting remark or two with his forward behavior. Though in his defense she hadn’t resisted him. Not in the least. He couldn’t believe he’d kissed her—or that he wanted to do it again. Her lips had lost most of their red gloss but none of their appeal.

When Serena finally spoke, she floored him with honesty.

“I’m a big enough person to admit when I’m wrong. And, man , was I wrong.” A grin accompanied the admission.

Wrong wasn’t the word for it, Serena mused inwardly as her hormones continued to pop and fizz like the bubbles in champagne. She hadn’t seen this reaction coming even if she had found the man attractive from the get-go.

That in itself was surprising. In his charcoal suit, snowy white shirt and muted print tie, he was one hundred and eighty degrees from the artsy, anti-establishment sort who usually caught her notice. She chalked up his appeal to his handsome face, even though she’d never figured herself for being so superficial. Adonis, she’d called him.

Her gaze trailed over his broad shoulders. No doubt about it, the man worked out. She pictured him shirtless and sweaty, muscles flexing and straining as he finished up a set of curls with hand weights.

Mmm . The sound vibrated in her throat. It took Molly kicking her shin under the table for Serena to realize she was openly ogling him.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’m going to head back to our hotel,” her friend said. She rubbed her temple as she rose to her feet. “My headache has gotten worse.”

“Oh.” Serena did her best to hide her disappointment as she started to rise too. “Well, Jonas, it’s been…”

“Interesting?” he supplied.

Serena blew out a breath. “That’s an understatement.”

Molly divided her gaze between the two of them. “You should stay, Serena. I mean, if you want to.”

“No. I’ll go back.” The words sounded half-hearted.

Their drinks arrived then. The waitress set the bourbon in front of Jonas and eyed the two women. “Who gets the dirty martini?”

Molly pointed to Serena. “Sit and have your drink.”

“But…” Serena glanced at Jonas. No doubt about it, she wanted to stay. Still, she asked, “Are you sure, Moll?”

“Positive.”

After Molly had left, Serena and Jonas eyed one another in silence as they sipped their drinks. With her friend seated next to her Serena’s hormones had been somewhat held in check. Now they threatened to stage a riot.

“So, where are you from?” Small talk seemed the safest bet.

“Vegas, born and raised. You?”

Growing up, Serena had lived all over the world, thanks to her father’s naval appointments. Southern California had been the final stop, and despite her flighty nature she’d been eager to put down roots. She and Jayne had that in common, since Jayne’s father was also career military.

“I call San Diego home these days.”

“Nice city. Great beaches and a pretty decent night life.”

“Do you get there often?”

“No. I’ve only been once when I was in college.”

His answer disappointed her. Ridiculously, she’d hoped he was a frequent visitor. Maybe then there would be a chance they would see each other again after tonight.

“I didn’t think Vegas had many natives,” she said.

Jonas smiled. “There are a few of us around—and, in case you’re wondering, we don’t all work in the casinos.”

“You never did say what you do for a living,” she reminded him.

“I’m an attorney.”

Attorney. She’d never been hot for an attorney before. She’d avoided them on principle, unless they were the pro-bono sort, who wore sandals and hemp clothing and worked for worthwhile causes.

“From the look on your face, I take it you’re not a fan of the profession.” Before she could answer, he added, “I probably shouldn’t mention my political aspirations, then.”

An attorney and a politician? How much more pro-establishment could one get? And why wasn’t Serena rising to her feet and beating a hasty retreat?

Instead, she sipped her drink and said, “Tell me about these political aspirations of yours.”

“I’m running for Mayor of Las Vegas.”

“No kidding?” At his nod, she asked, “Why? I mean, what made you decide you wanted to do this?”

“I have something to offer.” He sipped his drink. “There’s more to this city than tourism and casinos. The people who live here have legitimate concerns, as does the business community.”

As Jonas spoke, Serena studied him. All that passion, and it went well beyond his kissing ability. But then hadn’t he already warned her that appearances could be deceiving?

“What about you? What line of work are you in?”

“I decorate cakes.”

She held her breath, half expecting him to make a derogatory remark. Her current choice of profession was a keen disappointment to her parents, and they made it plain every chance they got. But Jonas smiled broadly. She liked the way his cheeks creased when he did.

“No kidding? That’s a sweet job.” She groaned at the bad pun, which he apparently anticipated, because he raised his shoulders in a shrug and apologized. “I couldn’t resist. So, what do you like most about your profession?”

She didn’t have to think about it. “The creative aspect. Customers come into the shop and say they want a cake for their boss’s retirement party, or their son’s christening, or whatever. They give me a list of that person’s hobbies, and sometimes they suggest a theme or a color scheme. From that, I create a cake.”

“Edible artwork?”

She nodded. He got it. “Exactly.”

Two hours and a second dirty martini later, Serena knew she should be going. But she didn’t want the evening to end. That was as perplexing as it was terrifying. Her last halfdozen relationships—if they even could be classified as such—had fizzled out fast. Usually by the end of the first date, or at least by the second, she was eager to find an escape hatch. Serena liked men, but she wasn’t willing to entrust her long-term happiness to one. She had only to look at her parents to understand why. Susanne and Buck Warren had made it their life’s mission these past thirty years to make one another miserable. And, since misery loved company, they’d made their only child’s life hell, too.

“You’re frowning,” Jonas remarked.

“I’m just wondering where the time went.”

“I know.” His laughter was bemused. “I came in here planning to grab a quick drink before heading home. I was wound up, yet exhausted.”

“Long day?”

“Endless.”

“But here you are.”

“Here I am.” He smiled. “And I’m not tired at all.”

“It’s the scintillating conversation,” she teased.