Mad About the Man (11 page)

T
he five-course meal was excellent, the surroundings sublime, and the company pleasantly entertaining, but Maddox paid only passing attention, his eyes all for Brie.

He'd watched her as the evening progressed, enjoying the way she talked and smiled, the graceful movements of her head and shoulders and hands as she ate her dinner in full view of the entire room. And he took particular pleasure in her obvious delight as she stood and raised her glass to toast the newlyweds, wishing them a long and happy life together.

Her love for her sister and new brother-in-law was plain, radiating from her like a golden sun.

What must it be like to have even a small measure of that affection? To have her passion for his own, and maybe more besides?

He danced with a couple of different women when the music began again, the band playing a wild, thumping brand of rock that had everyone gyrating to the beat. Even Jordan was out there with his bride, his suit jacket forgotten over the back of his chair as he let his high-class hair down for some well-deserved fun. As for the bride, she glowed with youth and beauty and an over-the-top zest for life.

But to his way of thinking, as pretty as she was, Ivy Grayson Jordan couldn't hold a candle to her sister. Brie was a knockout in her floaty pink dress, her fair cheeks flushed with becoming color, her blue eyes soft and bright.

Even while he danced, he kept track of Brie, noting her location and whom she was with. He'd decided not to appear too eager by immediately racing over for their promised dance. He hoped that if he let her wait a short while, her guard would be down, as it had been at the end of their first dance. Because when he found her again, he didn't intend to let her go.

The band paused so the bride and groom could cut the cake. He watched as Brie went with them.

*   *   *

Brie stood among the guests gathered to watch the cake-cutting ceremony. The cake itself was a masterpiece, an exquisitely decorated, seven-tiered confection iced in pale ivory buttercream and festooned with a virtual garden of pastillage flowers—cascading roses, lilacs, and poppies.

Ivy chortled, visibly nervous as she picked up the long knife that she and James would use to slice the first piece of wedding cake. James grinned and slid his hand over hers.

Brie stood next to Madelyn and their mother. Laura beamed with pleasure, happy not only because of the occasion, but because her plan for the wedding was proceeding with an orchestrated precision that made it all look easy.

“You can't say anything to Ivy,” her mother told her in a low voice, “but James told me where he's taking her on their honeymoon.”

Brie looked at her mother. “I thought it was top secret and that wild dingoes couldn't drag it out of him.”

James had used the dingo reference more than once, leading to hushed speculation that the destination might be Australia or New Zealand.

“It still is a secret, but he decided he'd better clue me in since they don't get cell reception there. He didn't want me worrying, sweet boy that he is.”

“So? Is it Down Under? Or are they doing the rest of Europe once they get tired of France?”

“Neither. He bought her a private island in the Caribbean.”

“He what!”

Laura waved a hand, motioning for her to lower her voice.

Luckily Ivy was too busy having James feed her cake to notice the sidebar conversation going on nearby.

“She gets a whole island?” Brie repeated in a near whisper.

“I know. So extravagant. But for James, I'm sure it was no great hardship. He says it has a lovely two-story colonial house with a pink sand beach, tennis court, and a boat dock deep enough for a yacht. Plus, he's put the deed in Ivy's name. He really does love her.”

“He sure does. He didn't even ask for a prenup.”

As a lawyer, she'd been interested in that particular detail. Through the family grapevine, she'd found out that his parents had floated the prenup idea, but that he'd squashed it immediately. Whatever he'd said had been harsh enough that the older Jordans had never mentioned it again.

“Here I thought the house in France was impressive,” Brie said.

“Well, when you marry one of the richest men on the planet, you get primo gifts,” Madelyn said, finally joining the conversation. “But knowing Ivy, she wouldn't mind if he hadn't gotten her anything at all, just so long as they're together. To Ivy, marrying James
is
the gift.”

From the expression on Ivy's face as she and James shared a sticky-lipped kiss, she knew Madelyn was right. Arms looped around each other's waist, the bride and groom moved away as the catering team swooped in to start cutting and passing out slices of cake, guests' choice of orange blossom white or chocolate cherry.

Beside her, Madelyn scanned the crowd. A sweet smile curved her lips when she found Zack, who was talking to P.G. and one of the other groomsmen on the other side of the room.

“Zack is my gift,” Madelyn said. “He might not be able to buy me an island, but I don't mind. He and our babies are all I need to be happy.”

“You guys are lucky.”

Madelyn looked at her again. Clearly, she'd caught the note of longing in Brie's voice.

“We are lucky,” Madelyn said. “And you will be too someday.”

Brie shook her head. “Smart money disagrees. But lightning could always strike, right?”

“Maybe it just did.” Madelyn's gaze moved past her to someone in the crowd beyond. “Hmm-hmm, who's that slice of tall, dark deliciousness?”

“What were you just saying about Zack being the love of your life?”

“He is. One hundred percent. Doesn't mean a girl can't appreciate a bit of eye candy every once in a while. Weird, but Mr. Tall, Dark, and Delicious looks oddly familiar. And I think he's coming this way. Brie, he's looking at you.”

“Me? Who is—?” Brie started to turn around.

But she didn't need to ask who, as her mother's face lit up like a firework. Laura rushed forward, arms outstretched. “Mr. Monroe! I'm so glad you're here. I hope you're having a good time. Forgive me for not being able to do more than wish you a quick hello when we bumped into each other earlier.”

“You've had a lot on your plate.” He gave her one of his patented charming smiles. “Mother of the bride and wedding planner, that's enough to exhaust anyone, even a gorgeous whirlwind like you.”

Laura laughed—more like giggled actually—then exchanged a friendly hug with him.

Behind their backs, Madelyn met Brie's eyes and mouthed a silent “O-M-G.”

“And it's Maddox, Laura,” he said. “I thought we got all the formality out of the way the other afternoon at the M.”

Her mother's smile widened even farther, if that was anatomically possible. “Of course, Maddox. Let me introduce you to my daughters. This is Madelyn, my eldest.”

“Nice to meet you.” Madelyn extended her hand, her expression carefully rearranged. “Though Mom here could have done without the birth-order commentary.”

They shook hands.

“Oh, and here is my Ivy. The bride.” Laura motioned to her youngest, who hadn't made it far, waylaid by talkative guests. Ivy murmured what was obviously an excuse to an older white-haired lady and came forward. She towed James in her wake.

“Ivy, James, I'd like you to meet Maddox Monroe. He did me a great favor recently, so I didn't think you'd mind if he came to celebrate with us today.”

“Of course not. You're very welcome.” Ivy smiled.

“Thank you for including me. And may I wish you every happiness in your marriage.”

“Thank you.” Ivy's face softened, her smile spreading gently across her face.

He turned to James. “Congratulations. You're very lucky to have such a beautiful bride.”

“I am.” The men shook hands. James studied him for a moment. “Hotels, right?”

“Yup, that's me. International finance?”

“Guilty as charged. I hear you may be broadening your reach soon.”

“It's under consideration. You offering funding?”

“I'm always open to a profitable business opportunity. Give me a call. We'll talk.”

“I will.”

“He will.
When
he gets back from his honeymoon.” Laura waggled a chiding finger at the two of them. “No business talk. It's your wedding day, James.”

“Sorry, Laura. I mean, Mom.”

She'd insisted that James start calling her Mom now that he and Ivy were married. Of course, Laura had treated him like one of her own kids since he'd been a teenager. But she wanted to make it official.

James looped his arm around Ivy again and pulled her close. “Sorry, love.”

Ivy met his gaze. “That's okay.”

“My apologies as well,” Maddox said.

Ivy nodded. “No worries. Oh, listen. The band's playing again.” She looked at James. “Let's go dance.”

James sent them all an apologetic look. “If you'll excuse us, my wife wants to dance. Hey, I like the sound of that.
Wife.
”

Ivy chuckled. “Come on,
Husband.
”

Taking his hand, Ivy pulled James out onto the crowded dance floor.

“Nice couple.” Maddox tucked his hands into his suit pockets.

“Aren't they, though?” Laura smiled again. “Forgive me, Maddox, I would have introduced you to Brie, but you two already know each other.” She looked at her middle daughter. “You should have told me you're his lawyer.”

“Sorry, but it never crossed my mind. It's not like I'm in the habit of sharing my client list with you.”

“Well, no, but Maddox is a special case. He says you were in school together.”

“He's a special case, all right,” Brie muttered.

Maddox choked back a laugh.

“Was it sixth grade, you said?” Laura asked. “I'm sorry I don't remember you. I usually remember all of Brie's school friends.”

“It was seventh grade, Mom. And you don't remember him because he and I weren't friends.”

“Really? But Maddox is so nice.”

“What he is, is a—”

“What Brie means to say,” Maddox interrupted, “is that we were young and I might have given her a bit of a hard time then.”

Madelyn crossed her arms. “By ‘hard time,' you mean you were a real little shit.”

“Madelyn!” Laura looked shocked.

“Well, he was. I won't go into specifics, but believe me, whatever he was then, it wasn't nice.”

“She's right, Laura,” Maddox said, looking uncharacteristically contrite. “I was a smart-assed twelve-year-old. But times and people change.”

“Exactly. Now he's a smart-assed thirty-three-year-old.” Brie grinned, showing her teeth.

Laura darted a glance at Maddox, clearly waiting to see whether he was going to get angry.

Instead, he laughed again and met Brie's eyes. “I believe you promised this smart-ass a dance.”

Brie stopped grinning. “My feet hurt.”

“Then take off the heels. I won't tell anyone you're barefootin' it, if you don't.”

“Really, I can't. Ivy will probably be wanting to change into her traveling clothes soon and I need to be available to help her.”

“Don't worry about that, dear.” Laura sent her an encouraging smile. “I'll help her change and get ready.”

“But I don't want to miss her and James's departure.”

“You won't. We'll come find you so you can wave them off. Won't we, Madelyn?”

Madelyn gave Brie a you-might-as-well-give-in-'cause-you'll-never-wiggle-out-of-this-one look. “Sure will.”

Traitor.
Brie glared back.

Maddox squatted down and grabbed one of her ankles to slip off her shoe. He had them both off before she could do more than let out a strangled gasp of protest. He stood and held out the shoes to her mother. “Laura, if you wouldn't mind?”

Eyes twinkling, Laura accepted the dress shoes.

“Ladies.” Maddox looked at Laura and Madelyn. “It's been a pleasure.”

He grabbed Brie's hand and tugged her forward. “Come on, you. Let's dance.”

Brie trotted along beside him, twisting her hand free once they reached the dance floor. “One dance, then we're done.”

“Are you always in such a bad mood at weddings?” he asked as they both started moving in time to a fast-paced rock song.

“Only when I'm at one with you.”

“Nah, it can't be me. Probably just your feet. How are they feeling by the way?”

Actually, her feet felt great. Absent the confining high heels, her toes and arches felt light and free. The ache, which hadn't completely been a lie, was quickly fading as she bumped and shimmied to the music.

“Better,” she admitted.

He sure could dance, she thought as she watched his body move with a fluid, almost catlike grace. He'd taken off his jacket and tie, leaving him in his shirt and trousers. The muscles of his arms and chest shifted subtly beneath the fabric of his shirt, hinting at toned male perfection beneath.

She almost sighed. Whether she liked to admit it or not, he was a damned sexy man.

A few of the young women dancing nearby clearly agreed, their eyes shifting away from their own partners to sneak increasingly long looks at Maddox, their gazes filled with interest and sexual hunger.

But Maddox seemed oblivious, his eyes never straying from Brie.

One song ended and a new one began with no break in between. She'd said only one dance, but when she paused for a moment as if to leave, he grabbed her hands and pulled her toward him again, silently compelling her to continue.

She ought to have turned away then regardless. Instead, she kept dancing, the beat that pumped from the band's instruments almost visceral, each note lush and heavy with a raw, evocative sensuality.

The rhythm settled inside her and some inner restraint unwound like a ribbon pulled loose from a bow. She wasn't sure when or how or even why she allowed it, but suddenly Maddox had his hands on her hips, his own hips swaying and circling as he guided her even deeper into the movement and the music.