No Weddings (18 page)

I turned toward Stuart Simms. We’d grown up together, only we didn’t play very well in the sandbox. Always out for the new angle, or intent on acquiring the next shiny toy, Stuart had become a human embodiment of everything I loathed in the country-club circles.

He’d also inherited tens of millions, and in cutthroat corporate raiding, had multiplied his wealth. Ego radiated off the man. And the way he looked at Hannah just now, so did blatant lust.

“Don’t bother, Stuart. She’s out of your league.”

The fool arched a brow, turning toward me. “Is there such a thing?”

I shook my head, leaving the shark in my wake. “In regard to that woman? Yes.”

Other admirers had filled in the space between us, but I worked my way against the current until I stood beside Hannah again. She smiled up at me, but looked a bit shell-shocked.

I pressed a hand to her lower back. “Want to get out of here?”

Her eyes grew wide. “Can we?”

“Do you have the cake covered?”

She bit her lower lip, frowning at the towering confection. With a serious expression, she glanced back. “Give me ten minutes.”

“What if I helped?” I picked up a plate.

A small smile touched her lips. “I would love that.”

While Hannah carved into the globe, starting in the vicinity of a glittering iced Greenland, I dutifully held up fine china for the slices of white cake to rest on. In ten minutes, we’d destroyed half the world.

A waiter joined us, and Hannah handed the cake server over to him. “Just be sure to serve only from the top tier of the base and up. The bottom portions are not edible. We don’t want anyone choking on a crystal.”

“Or breaking a tooth,” he added.

“Exactly.” Hannah looked around, making certain nothing remained that needed her attention.

I spotted Kristen in the center of the wooden dance floor, looking calmer than usual. “I’ll be right back.”

Hannah nodded, stepping off to the side, under the veranda.

Kristen turned toward me and raised the beveled crystal glass in her hand. It was filled with an amber liquid. “To a successful country-club event.”

Absent a drink, I nodded and gave her a half hug. “Very successful, thanks to you.”

“Pffft. I only did my part. We all pulled together.” Her words slurred a bit.

“You gonna be okay the rest of the night? Hannah and I are taking off.”

Perceptive eyes narrowed. Kristen was a sharp one, even if she had ventured from buzzed to drunk. “‘Hannah and I’? Didn’t I see you two in the garden earlier?”

I chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “You saw nothing.”

Yet.

W
hen we left the fundraiser, I removed my tux jacket and draped it over Hannah’s shoulders. Initially, she shook her head and backed up. But with a hard look from me, she relented. I then made certain her arms went into the sleeves.

“I look ridiculous in this.” The hem of the jacket went almost to her knees.

I ignored her protest, wrapping the lapels, one over the other, trying not to smile. “You look adorable.” And she did. She belonged in more of my clothes.

She rolled her eyes. “Great, adorable was the look I was going for.”

“It suits you. Besides, I like you in my jacket.”

“Don’t take it as a claim on me, mister. It isn’t a letterman jacket. It is warm, though.” She pulled it tighter around her.

We made a detour through the kitchen, where I grabbed a bottle of Champagne. “After you.” I gestured toward the back door.

We emerged on the other side of the building. Stray guests wandered across the sprawling lawn in the dark, but all the glowing lights from the party were hidden by the massive building.

Since Hannah wore a sexy pair of high heels, I kept to the paved areas, following the sidewalk down to the winding pathway I remembered playing on as a child. When the wider path broke into stepping stones and Hannah slowed, hopping from one to the other, I stopped. “Hold this.”

She raised her arms in her oversized coat, exposing her small hands. She took the Champagne bottle from me with one hand on the neck and the other cradling the bottom.

I stepped behind her, squatted, and hooked my arms behind her knees and back, lifting her into my arms.

She let out a squeal. “Put me down!” Squirming, she began to fight my hold.

I tightened my grip. “Nope. No twisting an ankle on my watch.”

After a moment, she accepted my reasoning and settled. “Where are you taking me?”

Her weight was slight in my arms, but I lifted her higher. It enabled me to lean to the side every few steps to be certain
I
didn’t trip on the stepping stones. They began to disappear the further we went, overgrown lawn around their edges fighting to swallow them whole.

“To a secret place where we used to play as children.”

She quieted as we wound through manicured hedges that fully screened us from the party now. Distant strains of jazz music drifted toward us. A glow from the lights and the half moon rising above the tree line provided enough light to navigate.

Landscapers might have ignored the path to a forgotten area of the garden, but when we finally broke into the clearing in the far corner of the property, the structure still stood exactly as I remembered it. As we approached the steps, Hannah shifted in my arms, facing it.

I placed her onto the wooden entrance steps, and she gasped, gazing up.

Overrun with the dormant stems of wisteria vines, the gazebo’s white bones still held strong. Shaped into a giant octagon, the structure held vivid memories of bored children seeking to escape into a fantasy land.

With a shoulder propped onto the pillar at the entrance, I watched Hannah explore. She placed the Champagne bottle on the end of the nearest built-in bench, then walked along the inner perimeter before standing in the center and looking out at me. Then she twirled, laughing.

Yeah, the place had that kind of magical effect on people.

“We used to come here and enact the scene from
The Sound of Music
. Of course, I was Rolfe, and the girls took turns playing Liesl.”

Hannah laughed, crossing her arms in my flappy sleeves. “They must’ve worn you out.”

“Nah.” I stepped inside.

The protection of the cover and the mass of trees surrounding us made the chill in the air disappear. Hannah remained in her spot, watching me as I approached in measured steps.

“You really don’t need this anymore.” I moved behind her, pulling my jacket from her shoulders.

“No, I guess I don’t.” Her voice softened.

I folded the jacket and laid it over an open section of wooden railing.

“Wait! It’s so dirty.” Her face fell when she realized her warning came too late.

“It’s okay. I’ve got a great dry cleaner.”

On a deep exhalation, she smiled, but then cast her face down, her shyness coming forth.

A burning sensation filled my chest, an ache I hadn’t felt in a long time. “Hannah, look at me.”

Slowly, she raised her face.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

Her head began to shake, but then turned into a nod.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. We are two people in an ancient gazebo that I played in as a boy. And all the boy is asking for is a dance.” I extended an arm toward her.

A smile lit her face in the shadows, and she came to me, stepping into my arms. “I am
not
leaping between the benches like in the movie.”

I pulled her close, and she molded her body into mine, pressing her cheek into my chest. “Never. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Full body contact was all I wanted.

“Too bad it isn’t raining like in the movie.” Her absent-minded comment was toned with innocence.

“Yeah, too bad.” Mine was breathy, tinged with undertones of meaning. Imagining Hannah with her flimsy silk ball gown plastered to her body—her lack of
underthings
body—did things to me.

I pressed us closer together with my arms, wanting her to
know
what she did to me. No inhibiting denim held me restrained tonight. And I didn’t wear underthings either.

“You’re…” Her voice had dropped to a breathy whisper.

“Hard.”

She nodded.

“You started it.” Yeah. I was twelve. I blamed the gazebo.

Hannah laughed softly. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

The slow jazzy song ended. Silence followed. We continued swaying around to our own rhythm. I felt like I could dance with her forever, hidden in our private garden, mixing great memories of my past and present.

My gaze fell on the bottle. In spite of my not wanting an intimate moment to end, the band had taken leave, and there was only so much close proximity a man in need could handle.

“Let’s make a toast to tonight.” On a deep, determined breath, I broke away, striding over to the bottle.

With a few quick twists, I pulled off the wiring and wrapper. Hannah joined me, but eyed the frayed wood on the bench.

I grabbed my jacket from the railing and spread it on the splintering surface. I bowed deeply. “A gentleman covers a puddle for the lady.”

“Most obliged.” She dipped her head and spun around. And although she could’ve sat in the center, she chose to sit closest to me, her silk-covered thigh pressing into my mine.

She looked beautiful. Dark eyes sparkling. Waves of hair tumbling down one shoulder. The barest fabric teasing across a body meant to be…

I took another cleansing breath. Then I gripped the cork steady in my left hand, grabbed the base of the bottle with my right, and slowly twisted the bottle. The cork gave way with a
pop!
and frothy foam poured out as I tilted it away.

She smiled.

I swallowed hard.

On another breath, I wiped my mind clear and focused on the beautiful woman looking up at me expectantly. I raised the bottle. “To a Julie Andrews musical and childhood memories.”

She reached up, placing her hands over mine. “To new memories. And musicals.”

I pulled the bottle down. “Oh, no. I don’t do musicals.”

She bit her lip, then smiled wide. “Oh, yes. You do.”

I shook my head. “No.”

She nodded, grinning wider. “Yes. It’s a nonnegotiable point.”

I sighed, lowering the Champagne bottle. “One.”

“I can live with that. One.”

I angled my head, glaring at her. “But not on the first date.”

She burst out laughing. “Seriously? Okay. We should make a rule, though.”

“Date rules? Like how far we can go without seeing a musical? Fine. Fifth.” If I had to attend a cheesy musical, it would be at the last possible moment.

“Fourth. And since we’re paralleling date rules? I also mean sex.”

Fuck.
“Third.”

“Done.” Her eyes gleamed with humor.

In the history of dating, I’d be willing to bet no man has ever made an appointment for sex and a musical on the third date. I raised the bottle and took a healthy swig, then passed it to her, casting her a sidelong glance. “Shrewd. I’m impressed.”

Then she wrapped those full lips around the bottle opening.

I blinked.

The third date? I didn’t know how I would make it that long.

T
he day had finally arrived for our first official date.

After another week of dinners at my place that Hannah had insisted upon, and with her teasing me mercilessly at every stolen opportunity, my nerves were fried. I’d become one snarling, horny bastard.

However, Ben stood in the entrance to my bedroom and had dropped the worst possible bomb. “Sorry, man. I know you had plans with Hannah tonight, but I can’t get out of this.”

“It’s a
wedding
.” I cringed as the word left my lips. Leave it to another celebration of the death of two more singletons to ruin the lives of the rest of us.

Ben glared at me. “It’s my brother’s wedding. I’m the best man. Don’t be an idiot. Reschedule Hannah. She’ll understand.”

I sighed, unable to tell him why
I
didn’t understand. The guys knew I had plans with Hannah, but they didn’t know the extent of my feelings for her, nor did they know tonight was supposed to be our first date. Hannah and I kept things completely cool in front of the guys. But if they knew, I think they’d each give their left nut to trade places with me. This was Hannah. Their Hannah too.