Naked Truth (Crimson Romance) (2 page)

He gave Kennedy’s left hand a pointed look. She squeezed her bouquet until she was afraid she would snap the stems on the burgundy and cream-colored roses. She was so lousy at this game. Besides the fact she wasn’t even sure she wanted to play it in the first place.

“What about divorced women?”
Oh my God, did I just say that out loud?

Jack shrugged. “I like single women. Divorced is single.”

Kennedy’s chest heaved as she sucked in air. “I’m not—” She lost her train of thought when he reached over, cupped her wrist, and pulled her arm through the crook of his, resting her hand on his forearm. Not only did he look amazing in the tux, but he felt good, too.

Not
good.

“Showtime,” Jack murmured, and Kennedy realized that the doors to the chapel were open and the music started, indicating it was time for the processional to begin.

She struggled to fill her lungs. Jack gave her a concerned look. “You okay?”

Kennedy shook her head and focused on breathing. In and out. That’s it. This wasn’t
her
wedding. It was Sabrina’s, and Sabrina was marrying the man of her dreams. The right man. Her forever happily ever after.

“I just don’t like weddings as a rule.”

“Why not?”

“My own was a disaster.”

• • •

Jack watched Kennedy watch the bride. A slow, sad smile spread across her face as Sabrina began to make her way down the aisle. He turned his attention to the bride, too.

She looked like a frigging princess in that big, white gown. Her smile was so wide that he was half-afraid her face would split in two. He glanced at his partner and best friend. The deer-in-the-headlights look that had been on his face since early this morning was gone, replaced by adoration, as his eyes never left his almost-wife. Cullen was hooked, no doubt about it. Sabrina was, and now always would be, the center of his world.

Lucky bastard
, Jack thought, even as he followed that thought with,
I couldn’t imagine being so beholden to another person
. It worked for Cullen—which was a hell of a surprise, frankly—but he knew marriage wasn’t for everyone.

Kennedy was married?

He shifted his gaze to watch the hot bridesmaid standing across the aisle, who was now watching the bride and groom with rapt attention. He’d missed that little tidbit of information somewhere along the way. She wasn’t wearing a ring. He’d noticed that because he’d been scoping out the various options for a little after-reception female companionship.

Weddings were a great place to pick up a one-night stand, but you had to be careful to pick a woman who didn’t have forever on her mind at the moment. The good thing was, the generous pours at the open bar tended to make almost anyone forget about forever, at least until the next morning. And Jack was good at slipping out of bed and out of their lives before they could even suggest exchanging phone numbers, let alone talk about a second—or hell, how about a first?—date.

He’d narrowed his focus to Kennedy, and had assumed she was single. While dodging the maid of honor, he’d caught sight of the willowy, brunette bridesmaid and his interest had immediately been piqued. He could tell she was one of those women who didn’t demand to be the center of attention, who was probably more of a wallflower. In his experience, women like that tended to be wildcats in the sack. Perfect for a temporary wedding pickup.

Whether she preferred to duck the spotlight or not, she was definitely sexy. Besides that thick, chestnut-brown hair that trailed halfway down her back, she had expressive, green, doe eyes set into a heart-shaped face, along with Cupid’s bow pink lips that caused his imagination to wander into seriously smutty places.

She wore the bridesmaid dress well, too. It was a simple number in a bronze color, with a halter neckline that emphasized the top swell of breasts that were neither too small nor too large. All things considered, his choice of a bed partner for the night hadn’t been difficult at all.

Except for the whole marriage bit. He wasn’t into married women, no matter how attractive they were. He’d hooked up with a handful of married women throughout his misspent youth, and each time had been a disaster—an emotional roller coaster for the women and mediocre sex for him. It was hard to get excited when a woman either cried or talked about another man constantly. In his experience, women who cheated didn’t really want to cheat; they just wanted their significant other to notice them.

The roar of applause, catcalls, and wolf whistles indicated that the ceremony was at an end, and Jack shifted his focus to watch the groom bend his bride over his arm and kiss her with such enthusiasm that the priest blushed.

• • •

Kennedy felt a pang of jealousy combined with regret as she watched her cousin and new husband make out on the altar. Five years previously, she’d received no more than a chaste peck on the cheek from her groom. Two years later, she’d sat in her living room and cried frustrated tears and thought,
I should have known it wouldn’t last
.

As Cullen and Sabrina posed for the photographer before proceeding down the aisle after being pronounced husband and wife, Kennedy tortured herself by comparing the ratio of couples to individuals in the church. She realized the number of married couples far outweighed the number of single people. Those couples were happy, too, as far as she could tell, which only added to her misery. Kennedy wanted to be happy.

She eyed her wedding counterpart. Jack was single, and he seemed happy. Maybe he knew something she didn’t.

“Stay away from him,” Sabrina had warned her a half dozen times. “The women love him, but he only wants one thing.”

Considering how just the simplest touch from Jack had spiked her blood pressure, she suspected it was not difficult at all for him to pick up women when he was in the mood for a little action.

Was that the key to happiness as a single person? Occasional one-night stands, with no other expectations? Jack looked, at the very least, content and comfortable in his own skin.

Kennedy certainly wasn’t happy, and neither did she feel comfortable in her own skin half the time. She tended to dress down, to hide herself, to try to avoid being noticed by the opposite sex. It was easier that way. Otherwise, she might have to be forced to address unwanted attentions from men like Jack.

They were unwanted, weren’t they?

Since her divorce three years ago, Kennedy had not dated at all. She was too afraid. She’d fallen for her lying ex-husband, let him talk her into moving from her comfort zone—her hometown of Dallas—to New Orleans, a town that was an entirely different world. She’d let him talk her into marrying him. And then he’d taken everything, including her pride, right from under her nose.

She glanced at Jack again, caught him watching her, and averted her eyes.

Kennedy’s experience with one-night stands was limited to two times in her entire life. There was that one time in college, when the guy had bet his friends that he could convince her to sleep with him. She thought he wanted to date her, wanted so much more, until the next morning when he laughed while he pulled his shorts over his thighs and said, “Thanks for that, Kennedy. I’m strapped for cash right now and that twenty bucks will sure come in handy.”

The other time had been a stupid mistake she’d made with the divorce attorney she’d hired when her ex stole all her money. So she probably shouldn’t be open to attempting another one-night stand.

Except that, honestly, wasn’t it different if she knew about it up front? If both parties had the same expectation? While the outcome had been humiliating, she could admit that the sex with the attorney had been good, at least while she’d been in the moment.

Maybe it had been good
because
it was a one-night stand.

She eyed Jack again. He certainly looked like he could please a woman in bed. Those big hands, with lean, nimble fingers. What would they feel like, caressing her breasts, sliding down her belly to the apex of her thighs?

Those full, slightly pouty lips trailing kisses along her throat, over her chest, suckling her nipples. His tongue darting out to tease her skin as he continued his downward path, until his lips were pressed against that part of her body that hadn’t felt the touch of a man’s lips in …

“Almost done,” Jack murmured, pulling her abruptly from the impromptu fantasy. His chocolate-brown eyes watched her from under hooded lids.

She turned her head slightly away. The man looked as if the rented tux had been made specifically for him, whereas Cullen looked faintly uncomfortable in the fancy duds.

Jack stepped in front of the altar and offered the crook of his arm. Kennedy slipped her hand through and let it rest lightly on his forearm as they both turned and posed for the photographer.

“Don’t be gentle, baby,” he teased, which caused a surprised giggle to burst from her mouth just as the camera clicked.

She lightly slapped his arm with her other hand. “You just ruined that picture,” she scolded as they walked down the aisle.

“By making you laugh? How do you figure?”

Kennedy shook her head as she kept a smile plastered onto her face in case someone was still taking pictures. “I don’t photograph well,” she explained. “Especially when I laugh.”

“That is one of the weirdest things I have ever heard,” he remarked, just as they reached the end of the procession and were tugged apart by the wedding planner.

After greeting the guests and promising to see them at the reception, then smiling for another multitude of pictures, it was finally time to pile into the limo. Since Vanessa was doing a lousy job of managing her maid of honor duties, Kennedy picked up the slack and herded everyone into the back seat before rushing into the church to ensure they hadn’t left anything behind in the bride’s room.

When she returned, the driver took the three bags she carried and placed them in the trunk, and then held the door open while Kennedy tried to duck into the back in a dress that wasn’t terribly accommodating to such activity.

The limo was full. “Oh,” Kennedy said. “I guess I’ll sit in front.”

“You can’t,” Sabrina said. “Cullen’s grandma is up there. She said she wanted to flirt with the driver.” She giggled as she lifted a half empty bottle of champagne and drank straight from the bottle. Cullen shook his head, looking faintly embarrassed by his grandmother’s actions. The driver cleared his throat, his eyes lifting to look at the almost cloudless sky.

“There’s plenty of room,” Jack announced, and before Kennedy could react, he slipped his arm around her waist and hauled her into his lap.

“No!” Kennedy struggled, twisting her body, pushing against Jack’s chest, trying to shift into a less compromising position, even as the door slammed shut and the rest of the crowd in the limo laughed.

Jack’s arms wrapped around her body, effectively trapping her arms against her sides and forcing her to sit still. “Relax,” he whispered next to her ear. “It’s a short ride to the reception, and you shouldn’t be left out just because you were helping the bride.”

Kennedy tried to force herself to relax. He hadn’t been hitting on her; he had only tried to help. Just because sitting in his lap elevated her own body temperature was no reason to assume the guy was a sleaze. Besides, twenty minutes ago she had been giving serious consideration to the idea of having a one-night stand with him.

As she became aware of the size of the erection pressing into her backside, her thoughts plummeted into the gutter. Guess she was back to considering shagging him, even if she knew damn well it would only happen once.

Jack loosened his hold, and then cupped her waist and adjusted her in his lap. “Sorry,” he murmured. “That was feeling a little too good.”

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.