It Happened One Wedding (11 page)

PACING IN THE
waiting room of the surgical floor, Sidney impatiently checked her watch again. “They said the surgery would take about an hour, right?”

Sitting in one of the chairs that bordered the path she had cut umpteen times since they’d wheeled Isabelle out of the emergency room on a gurney, Vaughn answered her with maddening calmness. “I don’t think that included all the prep and post-op time. That takes a while.”

What was he, a surgeon now? Of course
he
could remain calm.
He
didn’t have ovaries, let alone twisted ones—Sidney’s uterus cramped just imagining what that must’ve felt like. Nor did he have an eleven-week-old baby growing inside him.

Men. Clueless lummoxes, the whole lot of ’em.

“I can see your lips moving as you mutter about me, you know,” he said.

Figured. All the lummoxes in the world and she had to be trapped in this waiting room with the one who had superpowers of observation.

She looked over and saw him watching her with amusement, his long legs stretched out comfortably in front of him. Oh . . . whatever. Fine. So maybe her nervousness was making her a touch cranky right then. In her defense, that was her sister they’d wheeled out on that gurney, her younger sister, her only sibling, for whom she’d felt semi-responsible since they were kids. A sister who she could still remember as a sweet five-year-old, waiting on the front porch of their house on the day Sidney had returned from sleepaway camp the summer after their mother had died. She could picture the huge smile on Isabelle’s face as the car had pulled into the driveway, the way she’d bounded down the stairs and had hugged Sidney tight and declared that she was never, ever allowed to leave again for that long.
Not like Mommy,
she’d said.

And now Sidney was teary-eyed and sniffing.

Vaughn got to his feet, as if that settled it. “Okay, Sinclair. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Out of this waiting room,” he declared. “You need a break. There’s a Starbucks in the lobby with a grande Frappucino with your name on it.”

She scoffed. “I can’t leave. What if they finish the surgery and Simon is looking for us?”

“Well, lucky for you, you’re traveling with an FBI agent. And I just so happen to be in possession of a cutting-edge device that allows a person to track anyone down, anywhere in this city.” Vaughn pulled something out of his pocket and held it up: his cell phone. He looked around furtively, and put his finger to his lips. “
Shh.
Don’t
tell anyone. We’re talking supersecret FBI technology here.”

She threw him a look. “Are we through with the comedy routine now?”

He held out his hand to her, not saying anything further. He simply waited with that infuriatingly confident look.

With a sigh—it wasn’t worth the argument—Sidney let him lead her out of the waiting room. They walked to the elevators and waited. She could see the satisfied gleam in Vaughn’s eyes, and she was about to comment when an elderly woman stepped out of the waiting room and joined them at the elevator bank.

The woman smiled at the two of them just as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. As the elevator doors closed, Sidney noticed that the woman kept looking at them.

“It’s okay, I’m a little emotional, too,” she said to Sidney, with a kind expression. “My husband is having his third heart surgery in two years. Sitting in those waiting rooms . . . it gets you thinking.” She gestured at Vaughn, smiling fondly. “I was watching you two. You remind me of my husband and me thirty years ago. Oh, the arguments we used to have. We could go back and forth, all day long.” She winked. “My husband called it foreplay.”

Alrighty, then.
Nothing like a little too much information from a perfect stranger. But Sidney was distracted by something else the woman had said. She pointed between herself and Vaughn. Sure, maybe, for a split second she’d contemplated the idea of having meaningless sex with the guy, but a relationship?
Hell to the no, sister
. “Oh, we’re not a couple.”

“Definitely not a couple,” Vaughn added emphatically.

“He doesn’t do couples,” Sidney explained.

“She has a checklist,” Vaughn said. “With thirty-four things on it.”

The elderly woman eyed them carefully, as if she wasn’t buying it. “Uh-huh.”

“See, her sister is marrying my brother,” Vaughn continued. Like Sidney, he seemed to feel the need for further explanations.

“He’s the best man. I’m the maid of honor,” Sidney said. “And we keep getting stuck together because of this whole big wedding and secret baby drama with our siblings.”

“Probably, it’s not so much a ‘secret’ baby if you tell everyone about it,” Vaughn said under his breath.

“She doesn’t know us and it gives context to the story,” Sidney muttered back. Then she smiled at the elderly woman. “See? Clearly not a couple.”

The woman smiled as the elevator stopped at the third floor. “Well. Obviously, I was mistaken. Carry on as you were.” With a friendly nod in good-bye, she stepped out of the elevator.

Once she was gone, Sidney and Vaughn shared an incredulous look.

“Why does that keep happening to us?” Sidney asked.

“She’s just thinking about her husband,” Vaughn said. “She wants to see happy couples everywhere.”

The elevator doors sprung open at the first floor, and Vaughn put his hand on the door to keep it open for Sidney. She took a step forward and suddenly felt a tug of resistance. She looked down and then realized something.

She and Vaughn had been holding hands the entire time since he’d led her out of the waiting room.

Vaughn stared down at their joined hands, seemingly just catching on to this fact himself. Then he looked back up to meet her gaze.

They dropped hands instantly.

“You said something about coffee?” Sidney asked, a tad overbrightly.

“Yep, I think the Starbucks is right this way,” Vaughn said, his tone cheerfully nonchalant.

They scurried off, maintaining a good two feet of space between them.

 • • • 

ABOUT A HALF
hour after Vaughn and Sidney returned from their coffee run, a relieved Simon came to the waiting room with the news that Isabelle was out of surgery and that both she and the baby were doing fine. He led them up to the fourteenth floor of the hospital, where Isabelle was recovering from the surgery in a private room.

Vaughn fought back a smile as Sidney fussed over Isabelle’s blanket and pillow, wanting to make sure she was comfortable. These brief glimpses into the softer side of the oft-prickly elder Sinclair sister were rather . . . cute.

“Did they say how long you’ll be in the hospital?” Sidney asked.

“Only twenty-four hours, since it was laparoscopic surgery,” Isabelle answered drowsily, obviously still feeling the effects of the anesthesia. “And then I need to take it easy for a week.”

“A week or
two
, depending on how quickly you recover,” Simon corrected her.

Isabelle frowned. “I’ll have to call all my clients and cancel their appointments this week. And then we have our tasting at the Lakeshore Club next Sunday. If we have to reschedule that, I’m not sure when we’ll be able to get it in. We’re running out of time.”

Sitting on the opposite side of the bed from Sidney, Simon stroked Isabelle’s forehead. “Don’t worry about the wedding stuff. I told you, all that will come together. For now, let’s just stay focused on getting you and the baby the rest you need.”

“Do you want me to call Dad?” Sidney asked.

Isabelle and Simon exchanged looks, as if they’d discussed exactly that. “We’d still like to keep the fact that I’m pregnant on the down-low, if we can. That is, if you two don’t mind keeping up the charade a little longer.” Isabelle looked tentatively at Vaughn, who sat a little farther from the bed, in the chair next to the window.

Vaughn was surprised she even had to ask. Yes, fine, maybe he wasn’t “the guy” people typically talked to about love and weddings and babies, but he hoped there at least wasn’t any doubt that he could keep his mouth shut. This was Simon and Isabelle’s business, and their news to share when they were ready. “I’m okay with that,” he assured Isabelle. “In fact, I volunteer if you ever again need someone to take a piece of shepherd’s pie off your hands. The last time, poor Simon here nearly broke out in a sweat trying to finish that thing.”

Isabelle and Sidney laughed as Simon shook his head good-naturedly. “I won’t lie, those last couple bites weren’t easy.” He nodded at Sidney. “Next time, I want to be the one who gets to drink the wine.”

“Next time, maybe someone should just get the condom on fast enough,” Isabelle said, with a cheeky smile.

“That wasn’t entirely my fault, sweetie.” Simon turned to Sidney and Vaughn. “See, what happened is—”

Both Sidney and Vaughn held up their hands.

“Don’t need to know,” Vaughn said.

“Yes, let’s just keep that one of life’s little mysteries,” Sidney concurred.

Isabelle’s chuckle morphed into a yawn, her eyes tiredly drooping closed.

“I think we should get going,” Sidney said quietly to Vaughn.

Realizing that he was Sidney’s ride home, he nodded and stood up. “Is there anything you need me to bring you?” he asked Simon, assuming his brother was spending the night.

“I’m good. The nurses said I could pick up toothpaste and stuff in the gift shop downstairs. My car is still parked in front of your place,” Simon said to Sidney. “Is it okay if I leave it there for now? I’ll cab over and pick it up in the morning.”

A half-asleep Isabelle mumbled something incoherent from the bed.

Vaughn, Sidney, and Simon all looked at each other cluelessly.

“I can’t be positive, but that sounded like ‘thank-you notes,’” Vaughn guessed.

Simon looked both amused and exasperated. “She was talking about that before her surgery. She asked me to bring her thank-you notes for the shower gifts, so she can write them in the hospital tomorrow during her ‘downtime.’ I keep telling her all that stuff can wait, but she has this timeline she says we need to stick to.” He held up his hand, his thumb and forefinger close to touching. “We’re just a tiny bit busy these days, planning for a wedding and a baby at the same time.”

Vaughn and Sidney exchanged looks. Hell, the thought of planning either one made Vaughn’s eye twitch, let alone both at the same time.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Sidney asked.

“Yes.” Simon pointed at the two of them. “Go home. You two have been awesome today—thank you for everything.”

Sidney treaded softly on her way out, and Vaughn followed behind.

In the doorway, he looked back and saw Simon tenderly stroke Isabelle’s cheek. She opened her eyes for a moment and smiled, and the two of them shared a look so intimate that Vaughn felt like an intruder just standing there.

He had no idea what it felt like, having that deep of a connection with another person. But seeing his brother look so content in spite of all the chaos of the day, he suddenly found himself wondering.

“Everything okay?”

Vaughn turned back and saw Sidney waiting for him in the hallway. Shaking off the unsettled feeling that had crept over him, he nodded. “Yes.”

 • • • 

“DID SIMON SEEM
a little stressed out to you?” Sidney asked, as they drove back to her place.

“I’d say more than a little,” Vaughn said.

“Isabelle, too. She hired a wedding planner to help out, but there’s still so much that she has to do on her own. I’m worried she’s going to push herself too hard after this surgery.” Her big-sister protective instincts were kicking in more than ever after today’s scare with Isabelle. “I’ll talk to her about delegating a few things to me.”

“Maybe I could help with some of the wedding stuff, too.”

Sidney laughed, then saw Vaughn frown. “Wait—you’re being serious?”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“No offense, but you don’t exactly exude a ‘wedding planning’ vibe.”

“And thank God for that. But I think I can manage a few tasks. How hard could it be to pick out a photographer? Or a band? Just ask them if they plan to play ‘Y.M.C.A.’ or that annoying Kool and the Gang song. If they say no, they’re hired.”

“A little more goes into planning a wedding than that,” Sidney said dryly. Then she bit her lip, not having meant to lead into that topic.

Vaughn glanced over, but said nothing further. They drove for a few moments in silence, and Sidney couldn’t help herself from sneaking a few peeks.

He really was just so . . . attractive. With his shirtsleeves rolled up around his forearms, and that strong, sexy jawline, and that body, and those striking hazel eyes, Special Agent Vaughn Roberts was the kind of man a woman noticed—even across a crowded coffee shop when she was supposed to be meeting someone else for a date.

I know you’d envisioned yourself being on a different track at thirty-three, but there is one really awesome thing about being single. You can have meaningless, mind-blowing sex with a guy like that.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” Vaughn said, in a low voice.

“Sorry. I was just . . . thinking about something my friend Trish said.”

He studied her. “When’s the last time you had anything to eat?”

Sidney checked the clock on the dashboard and saw that it was after ten o’clock. “Probably the same time that you had anything to eat.”

“We could stop somewhere.”

Sidney thought about that for a moment. “Actually, I’d really like to go home and get out of this dress and heels.” Then she looked at him. “I have a refrigerator stocked with finger sandwiches and minicakes, if you’re interested.”

He held her gaze, his eyes a molten dark green-gold. “I just so happen to love minicakes.”

AFTER LETTING VAUGHN
inside, Sidney excused herself to change out of her dress and heels. Sadly, she did
not
invite him upstairs to join her.

So instead, Vaughn settled for watching the sway of her hips as she walked up the steps. Sometimes he didn’t know whether he was coming or going with this woman. In the car, he’d thought there’d been a little flirtation going on between them, but for all he knew “fingers sandwiches and minicakes” really meant . . . finger sandwiches and minicakes.

Hands tucked in his pockets, he checked out the living room and adjacent dining room, able to get a better look now that the space wasn’t crammed with twenty-five bodies. What struck him immediately about the townhome was that it had been decorated in an intriguing blend of modern and antique furniture pieces.

A few minutes later, Sidney rejoined him downstairs just as he was eying a rustic African statue that set atop a contemporary sleek lacquer chest.

“Your style is more eclectic than I would’ve guessed.” He turned and saw that she’d changed into black yoga pants and a pink tank top that scooped low enough to reveal the top curves of her breasts.

“I sort of fell into that style out of necessity,” she said. “I left New York with only half of the furniture I’d collected while there. It wasn’t enough to fill this space, so instead of trying to find pieces that semi-matched what I had, I figured I’d go with something completely different.” She looked around the room. “Actually, I kind of like the way it turned out.”

“I take it your ex-fiancé got the other half of your furniture?”

She tilted her head. “So you’ve heard the story, then.”

“Bits and pieces.”

“Hmm.” Clapping her hands together, she changed the subject. “So. About those finger sandwiches.”

Apparently, they really had been talking about actual finger sandwiches.

Damn.

A few minutes later, Vaughn found himself seated at the butcher block island in her kitchen, watching as Sidney pulled trays out of the refrigerator that were piled high with tiny sandwiches and minicakes.

“Any chance you’re going to pull something out of there that comes in an extra large?” He picked up one of the miniature cakes, a small dainty replica of a three-tiered wedding cake, and held it between his fingers. “I feel like a giant.”

She laughed—not a wry snicker or a bemused chuckle, but an actual full-out laugh that lit up her whole face. “I’ll be sure to pass along your complaints to the Lilliputian chefs.”

She took a seat on the barstool next to him and plucked a cucumber sandwich off the top of the pile. Vaughn scanned the stack, on the off chance there was a bacon-double-cheese or hot-Italian-beef finger sandwich stuck in there somewhere. No such luck. Instead, he settled for ham, brie, and apple.

“So how’s life in private equity treating you these days?” He reached over to the pitcher of orange punch that she’d set out on the counter and poured a glass for her, and then one for himself.

“Good.” She smiled proudly. “In fact, the investment committee at my firm just approved of the first deal I put together.”

Vaughn reached for his glass. “How big a fund are we talking about here?” He took a sip of the orange punch and grimaced. “What is
that
?”

“That is a virgin mimosa, and we’re talking about a four-billion-dollar fund.”

He was genuinely impressed, hearing that. “Look at you, Ms. Thing. That’s a lot of money you’re in charge of there.”

“This is true.”

“Are you nervous?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“All those people counting on you to deliver, and you’re telling me you’re not the slightest bit anxious?” Spotting a dry bar she’d set up on the built-in butler’s pantry that joined the kitchen to the dining room, he walked over and checked out the selection of liquor.

She turned on the barstool, facing him as he strode across the room. “That’s what I’m telling you.”

“Come on.” He grabbed a bottle and headed back into the kitchen.

“No, really. I do all my due diligence before committing to an investment, I evaluate the pros and cons, and then I spend weeks thinking about the ways we can develop and grow a company beyond what others might see. But once I’ve done my research and I’ve made up my mind, I’m all in.”

“Ah, yes. You and your research.” Vaughn opened her refrigerator and found what he was looking for—tonic water.

“Yep, me and my research. Hey, don’t knock the system—it works. If you do your homework up front, there’s less risk of encountering any unexpected surprises down the road.”

“Sounds like your approach to men.”

“It’s a sound theory. I see no reason why it shouldn’t apply to men, too.” She watched as he grabbed two rocks glasses and poured them each a drink. “What’s this?”

“Grey Goose and tonic. After the day we’ve had, I’m thinking we could use something with more bite than a virgin mimosa.”

Seemingly in agreement, she took a sip.

Vaughn took a seat on a barstool, resting his hand on the counter close to Sidney’s. “So.”

“So,” she said back.

He reached out and touched his thumb just above her upper lip. “You have a little smudge of cream cheese here.” He wiped gently, focusing on her full, very kissable lips. Then his gaze traveled up, to those gorgeous blue-green eyes.

Eyes that, oddly, were regarding him with amusement.

“Are you actually using the there’s-something-on-your-lip move on me?” Sidney asked. “That has to be the oldest move in the book.”

Seriously, this woman
reveled
in busting his balls.

He scoffed at her question. “Give me a little credit, Sinclair. Next time, I’ll let you walk around with food on your mouth.” Actually, there’d been no cream cheese—it
had
been a move.

One that obviously needed to be struck from the playbook ASAP.

From the way her eyes sparkled, she still wasn’t buying it. “I’m a little disappointed, Special Agent Roberts. Here I’d thought that a pro like you would—”

Fuck it.
Vaughn hooked his finger around one strap of her tank top and pulled her in for a kiss.

That was one move, at least, he knew she liked just fine.

 • • • 

WITH A SOFT
moan, Sidney’s lips parted eagerly for Vaughn. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, holding her firmly as his mouth took control, his tongue sweeping around hers in a hot, demanding circle.

She reached up and sank her fingers into the back of his dark hair, and before she realized what was happening, he lifted her up and settled her on his lap. She shifted, moving so that the thick ridge of his erection was right between her legs.

He groaned and broke away from her mouth, sliding his hands to her bottom. “Tell me to leave right now if you don’t want this to go all the way tonight.”

She closed her eyes, giving in to the flood of sensations as his mouth burned a path along her throat. “Take me upstairs,” she said raggedly.

He scooped her up, and she hooked her legs around his waist. She cupped his face between her hands, the kiss never stopping as he carried her to the staircase and up.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he growled.

“To the right.” Her lust-addled brain tried to focus as they moved through the hallway. “This doesn’t change anything between us. No one can know.”
Wow
, the sexy scruff along his jaw felt good and rough against her skin when he nuzzled her neck.

“Are you using me for sex, Miss Sinclair?” he said wickedly.

“Yes. So, yes,” she said. It had been a long time—too long—since she’d been this turned on. As long as they both understood that this was a no-strings-attached deal—and of course,
he
understood that—damn straight, she was going for this. Mr. Right may not yet have waltzed into her life, but Mr. Right Now was currently doing a fine job of getting her hot and bothered in the interim.

He set her down on the floor next to the bed. Not wasting another moment, he gripped the bottom of her tank top and yanked it over her head. Then his fingers skillfully undid the front clasp of her bra and let it slide off her shoulders to the floor.

Her nipples puckered in the cool air-conditioned room.

“Now there’s a pretty sight.” Vaughn cupped her breasts and rolled her nipples between his thumbs. “Do you want my mouth here?”

Her breath caught. “Yes.”

“Then get on the bed.”

Somebody, it seemed, liked being a little bossy in the bedroom. But, seeing how this particular order aligned with
her
agenda, Sidney acquiesced. She climbed onto the covers, sliding back to watch as Vaughn toed off his shoes and socks, then unclipped his FBI badge from the waistband of his jeans and removed his gun. He set both on the nightstand.

His eyes glinted in the moonlight as he moved over her on the bed, trapping her underneath his long, muscular frame. He lowered his head, until their mouths were just inches apart. “Kiss me.”

With a coy look, she reached up and ran her thumb over his bottom lip. Then she pressed her lips to the same spot, right where she’d once bit him, before opening her mouth to his in a slow, steamy kiss.

She heard a low rumble in his chest. His hands slid over her body, trailing lightly over her sensitized skin. He caressed a long lock of hair that had spilled over her shoulder, letting it run through his fingers.

“So beautiful.” His fingers continued to trail downward, over the peaked tips of her breasts. Then he followed with his mouth.

Sidney arched off the bed when he sucked the tip of one breast between his teeth. She smoothed her hands down his back, frustrated by the feel of cotton. “This shirt has to go.”

He pulled back long enough to undo the buttons and yank off his shirt. After tossing it to the floor, he reached for her again.

“Hold on.” She stared at him, shirtless before her. “I’m going to need a moment here.”

Holy crap, he was perfect.

It was like looking at a sculpture cast in moonlight, every muscle exquisitely solid and defined. She touched his chest, just to confirm he was actually real, then trailed her fingers down his six-pack abs.

He sucked in a breath when she did that.

“My god, how much do you work out?” she asked.

“About an hour and a half every day. I’m training for the triathlon with some friends.”

Of course he was.

“Um, my mouth was on a breast a minute ago. Any chance we can cut the ogling short and get back to that?” he asked.

“Smart a—” She gasped when he pinned her underneath him and picked up where he’d left off. Within moments she was writhing beneath him, the ache between her legs nearly unbearable.

“Vaughn,” she moaned.

“What do you want?” he asked huskily.

So many hot, naughty things sprang to mind. “Touch me.”

He gripped the waist of her yoga pants and eased them down her legs. “With my mouth or my fingers?”

Oh, god
. “Either. Both.” Her body trembled as he ran a finger over her ivory silk underwear, right between her legs.

“You’re so wet, Sidney. So damn hot.” He peeled the silky underwear off, then cupped his hand between her legs and parted her soft folds with his fingers.

She tightened her grip on the back of his hair. “If you don’t get inside me soon, I’ll have to bite you again.”

“Feeling a bit prickly, are we?” he asked. “I’m going to make this real good for you, I promise.” He eased a finger inside her and began to stroke in a slow, smooth rhythm.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out. It was all just so good—
he
was so good. He added a second finger, moving in and out as he lowered his head and flicked his tongue over the tip of one of her breasts. That pushed her over the edge and she came, hard and fast.

She opened her eyes and watched as Vaughn got up and stood at the edge of the bed. His gaze burned into hers as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled a condom out of his wallet. He tossed it on the bed, then shed his jeans and boxer briefs.

Sidney’s eyes widened at the sight of him. Granted, she’d only seen one other penis in the last three years, but this particular model seemed quite . . . impressive.

He grinned devilishly. “Need another moment?”

She crooked her finger at him and he climbed back onto the bed.

“Let me touch you,” she murmured. She stroked her hands over his chest, planting soft kisses along his neck. He closed his eyes, his breath quickening as her hands drifted lower. Teasingly, she brushed her fingertips along the length of his erection.

“Wrap your hand around me,” he said.

She did so, stroking him slowly and getting incredibly turned on by the feel of his hard, smooth cock. She felt his hand tangle in her hair.

“I want to fuck you. Now,” he said in a guttural voice.

Liquid heat curled low in her stomach as he settled between her legs and grabbed the condom. He rolled it on, then grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the bed with one hand.

Their eyes met and held as he slowly thrust into her, inch by exquisite inch.

She moaned, overwhelmed by the fullness of him.

He clenched his jaw. “Christ, you feel so damn good.”

He let her get used to him with several long, smooth, strokes, then he began to thrust faster. His eyes seared into hers as he pounded into her, taking her hard. Their bodies slapped together, their moans tangled in the air, and in those moments there was no checklist, no biological clock, no cheating ex-fiancé. Instead, there was only the delicious wave of pleasure building up in her as she let go and let Vaughn take her over the edge again. She cried out, digging her nails into his back and squeezing her legs tighter around his hips. He thrust hard, and again, and then groaned as he shuddered and buried his face in her neck, slowing down and finally collapsing on top of her.

A few moments later, he got up to dispose of the condom in the bathroom. When he strode naked back into the bedroom, Sidney tucked one arm under her head, watching him appreciatively. “Mmm-hmm.”

He climbed back into bed and slid one arm around her waist as she curled onto her side, facing him. “Look at you, all satiated and de-snarked for once.”