The Bachelor Takes a Bride (Those Engaging Garretts!) (10 page)

She’d grieved for a long time—feeling as if her heart had not just been shattered, but the pieces ripped right out of her chest, leaving only a gaping emptiness. But eventually, over time, she’d started to heal; she’d learned to look forward to each new day again. In the past year, she’d even been on a few dates—though more to appease her sisters than because she was interested in any of the men she’d gone out with. But while she’d been preparing for those other dates, she’d never felt the kind of giddy anticipation that danced through her veins now. And she’d certainly never thought about kissing any of those other men, but she couldn’t stop thinking about kissing Marco.

Was she ready for this?

Her heart jolted inside her chest as the doorbell sounded.

She honestly didn’t know, but it was too late to back out now.

* * *

As Jordyn made her way down the stairs, her heart was pounding so hard inside her chest she was certain Marco could hear it through the closed door. Then she opened it, and her already-racing heart went into overdrive.

“Hi,” she said, feeling unaccustomedly shy.

“Hi.” He stepped into the foyer and smiled at her. “You look fabulous.”

It wasn’t the words so much as the sincere appreciation in his gaze that made her skin tingle and the blood in her veins heat.

“So do you,” she told him, noting the khaki chinos paired with a pale blue shirt and darker blue jacket. She also noted that they were standing in almost the same spot as when he’d kissed her that night. And the way he was looking at her, she knew he was remembering that kiss, too.

So she was almost as disappointed as she was relieved when he said, “We should be on our way.”

“Where are we going?” she asked as he guided her to his vehicle.

“That depends—do you like steak?”

“Mmm,” she agreed. “My mouth is watering already.”

He opened the passenger side door, helped her in. “There’s a new steak house in Raleigh that I’ve heard good things about.”

“There are steak restaurants in Charisma, too,” she said when he was settled in his seat.

“There are,” he confirmed. “I just thought there would be less talk about us having dinner together if no one saw us having dinner together.”

“I guess that makes sense, in a convoluted kind of way.”

“And maybe, during the drive to Raleigh, you’ll start to relax a little,” he suggested.

“Sorry—I guess I am a little nervous.”

“No expectations,” he reminded her.

“Right.” But his reassurance didn’t magically disperse those damn butterflies still fluttering around in her tummy. “So tell me about the new Valentino’s.”

“Why are you so convinced there’s going to be a new Valentino’s?”

“Because there’s a sign in the window of what used to be Mykonos that says ‘Future Home of Valentino’s II.’”

“I guess that’s a pretty good reason,” he acknowledged.

“Are you going to duplicate the original restaurant?”

“No—even if the space lent itself to a similar design, we want customers to have a unique dining experience at each location.”

“Most successful eating establishments in the current economy are recognizable chain restaurants,” she pointed out.

“Two restaurants hardly gives us the status of a chain,” he countered. “Besides, if people want Valentino’s—they’ll go to Valentino’s. The purpose of the new restaurant isn’t just a second location but to broaden our appeal to a wider clientele—a wealthier clientele.”

“No pasta special on Tuesday?”

He smiled. “We’ll have the same specials and the menu will include most of our customer favorites, but we’ll offer some new dishes, too—entrées that are a little more daring and innovative.”

Listening to him talk, she realized there was a lot more to him than she’d originally thought. “And all this time, I believed you were just a bartender.”

“I am a bartender.”

“And, I’m beginning to realize, you’re also the mastermind of this expansion.”

He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be happening if not for my grandparents.”

“But whose idea was it?” she pressed.

“It’s been the subject of discussion among numerous parties for a while now,” he said, hedging a bit.

“And I’ll bet you were involved in every single one of those discussions.”

“I had some input,” he confirmed.

“Why are you so reluctant to take credit?”

“Maybe I don’t want to take the blame if the project fails.”

“It won’t,” she said confidently.

“While I appreciate your faith, you can’t possibly know that.”

“But I do—because I know you won’t let it fail. You don’t give up or give in and you’ll stick with the new restaurant until it succeeds.”

“You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?”

“Well, you got me to go out with you—even if it isn’t a date.” She looked out the window. “So the original Valentino’s was started by your grandparents?”

“Forty-seven years ago,” he confirmed.

“Are they still involved?”

“Sometimes I think too involved. Almost every morning, my grandmother is in the kitchen making pasta or sauce—or both.”

“She must really love to cook.”

“She loves to be in control, and she doesn’t trust anyone else to do things the way that she does. And of course, her way is the only right way.”

“So the pasta really is made fresh every day?”

“Absolutely.”

“How is that going to work with Valentino’s II?”

“Nonna’s going to train and supervise the new kitchen staff—when we have a new kitchen staff—and then she’ll probably split her time between the two restaurants for a while.”

“What does your grandfather do while she’s in the kitchen?”

“He’s the quality-control supervisor.”

She smiled at that. “Meaning he eats what she cooks?”

He nodded. “And samples any new additions to the wine list.”

“They sound like an interesting couple.”

“They’re wonderful,” he said sincerely. “They drive me insane at times, but I couldn’t imagine my life without them.”

Chapter Ten

T
he Idle Plough was a little more rustic than Marco had anticipated, but Jordyn seemed genuinely charmed by it.

The restaurant was actually a converted barn with exposed rafters and beams and a wooden staircase—thankfully not a ladder—leading to additional seating in the former hayloft. Wagon-wheel chandeliers hung on heavy chains from the ceiling while more intimate lighting was provided by old-fashioned lanterns on each table.

Their server—dressed in a Western-style shirt with blue jeans and cowboy boots—asked if they wanted drinks while perusing the menu. Jordyn asked for a glass of wine, and Marco decided to have the same. For dinner they, of course, ordered steaks. She opted for the strip loin, he chose the T-bone, and they both went for loaded baked potatoes and green salads.

While they ate, they talked. Even after several weeks of chatting, there was so much he wanted to know about her. She read science fiction novels, liked old movies—and not just vintage romances but classic mysteries such as
Rear Window
and
Sorry, Wrong Number
. She had horrible taste in music (new country—really?) and got lost without her GPS, but she knew how to make more than fifty different shooters, was a Durham Bulls fan (and not just because of the Kevin Costner movie—although she admitted to being a fan of that, too) and had lips sweeter than anything else he’d ever tasted.

“How did you end up working at O’Reilly’s?” he asked, setting his knife and fork on his now-empty plate.

“I saw the help-wanted sign in the window and applied for the job.”

“Okay—maybe I should have asked
why
you’re working at O’Reilly’s rather than Garrett Furniture.”

She shrugged. “There’s not a lot of demand for bartenders at Garrett Furniture.”

“I’m sensing there’s another story there that you’re not telling me.”

“Actually, it’s all part of the same story.”

When their server came to clear their plates, they both declined dessert but said yes to coffee. Of course, Jordyn added two creams and two sugars to hers, so he teased her that it was like having dessert and coffee in one.

“Thanks for this—dinner, I mean,” she said, wrapping her hands around the mug. “I really enjoyed it.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I guess I am, a little. I know it wasn’t supposed to be a date, but getting ready, I kind of felt like I was getting ready for a date which, of course, made me nervous. But this was...good. Really good.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “So maybe next time you’ll be a little less resistant when I ask you to go out with me?”

She shook her head, perhaps regretfully. “I really don’t want to get involved.”

“Maybe this is the part where you tell me why.”

“Do you really want to hear my sad tale?”

“I want to be with you, Jordyn, and I have a feeling that I’m going to need to hear it to decide if that’s ever going to happen.”

She took a deep breath. “I was supposed to get married in April—well, April three years ago.”

“You were engaged?” Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. The knowledge that she’d loved someone else, planned to spend her life with someone else, was more than a little unsettling.

She nodded.

“What happened?”

“He died. It was a car accident.” She swallowed. “He was hit head-on by a teenage driver who took a curve too fast and crossed into his lane. Brian was wearing a seat belt, but his airbag didn’t deploy. The doctors worked on him for hours at the hospital, but his injuries were too severe.”

Her straightforward recital of the facts wasn’t unemotional. Though she kept her tone even, he saw the anguish in her eyes, and he ached for her. He didn’t know how she felt—how could he? But he could imagine the shock and heartache of the loss, and he wished there was something he could do to ease her pain. He reached across the table and touched her hand. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

Early on, he’d figured out that she’d been hurt. Her obvious wariness combined with her determination not to get involved had led inevitably to that conclusion. But he hadn’t been prepared for this. It would have been easier to console her if the engagement had ended because her fiancé had walked out or cheated on her. But no—the man she’d planned to marry had probably been a prince of a guy whose death had left a huge hole in her heart. There was no way to ease that kind of pain, no way to expedite the healing process.

But even the deepest wounds healed eventually, and it had been more than three years since her fiancé died. Added to that was the undeniable chemistry between them—another reason he couldn’t walk away from her.

“I’m not still grieving,” Jordyn said. “I still miss Brian at times, but I’ve accepted that he’s gone. I’m just not ready to get involved in another relationship. I don’t know that I ever will be.”

“Are you saying that you haven’t been on a date in almost three years?”

“No, I’ve been out on a few,” she admitted. “Although mostly just to keep my family off my back.”

“Then why won’t you go out with me?”

“Because I like you.”

“You’re going to have to explain that,” he told her.

“Usually when I agree to go out with a guy, it’s because I know he’s going to realize there’s no connection and no chance of a second date. As you’ve already noted, there seems to be some chemistry between us.”

“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” he said. “You don’t want to go out with me because you’re attracted to me?”

“And I’m not ready for a relationship,” she confirmed.

The server came by again with the coffeepot, and Marco nudged his cup forward for a refill.

“I thought you said you had an early meeting tomorrow.”

“I do,” he confirmed. “But if this is truly our first and last time out together, I’m going to make it last.”

* * *

They left the restaurant after Marco had finished his second cup of coffee. It started to rain on the drive back to Charisma and their conversation lagged a little, but the silence wasn’t at all uncomfortable as they listened to the rhythmic
swish
of the wipers on the windshield, pushing away the rain.

In fact, Jordyn felt more comfortable with Marco than she’d felt with anyone outside of her family in a long time. Then he pulled in to her driveway and put the vehicle into Park, and suddenly the silence wasn’t so comfortable anymore. Suddenly there was a simmering heat in the air, a sizzling tension between them.

Thunder rolled and rumbled overhead; Jordyn’s heart pounded.

“I hate thunderstorms,” she admitted.

“Why’s that?”

“Because they remind me that we’re not as in control of our world as we want to believe.”

“I like storms,” he admitted.

“Figures.”

He grinned. “For the same reason—because they remind me that there are forces in this world stronger than our determination to control them.”

The way he was looking at her, she knew he wasn’t just talking about the weather.

“I should get in,” she said.

“I’ll walk you to your door.”

“There’s no point in both of us getting wet,” she protested.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said again.

Since it was obvious that she wasn’t going to change his mind, she waited for him to come around and open the door for her. He took his jacket off and put it across her shoulders, to shield her as much as possible from the rain. Thankfully it was only a few steps until they were under the shelter of the porch.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said formally.

“You’re very welcome.”

He waited while she found her key, inserted it into the lock. “Good night, Marco.”

“Good night, Jordyn.”

And though the door was unlocked, she didn’t immediately open it and step inside. Her means of escape was right there, but she didn’t take it. Instead, she turned back to him.

“I know this wasn’t a date, but...”

That was all she said before she impulsively leaned forward and brushed her mouth to his.

* * *

Throughout the entire drive back from the restaurant, Marco had kept reminding himself of his promise to Jordyn that it wasn’t a date. And although he wanted, more than anything, to taste her again, he’d held himself back from reaching for her.

Then
she
kissed
him
, and the gentle touch of her lips to his was all it took for the tentative leash on his self-control to snap.

He’d never wanted another woman the way he wanted her, with such passion and intensity, and he knew he wouldn’t again. She was it for him—for now and forever.

His arms closed around her, drawing her nearer as he deepened the kiss. He nibbled on the sweet fullness of her mouth and tasted heaven; she pressed herself against him, and he soared through the clouds.

His hands skimmed up her torso, his palms brushing the sides of her breasts through the sexy lace top she wore, and she trembled. Her mouth parted beneath the pressure of his, and her tongue danced with his in a slow, sensual rhythm that had all of his blood rushing south.

Her head fell back against the door; he nibbled on the rapidly beating pulse point below her ear, scraped his teeth down her throat. She gasped and shuddered as her fingers dug into his shoulders. He pressed his lips to her breastbone, just above the vee of her top, and felt the rapid pounding of her heart. He lifted his head to draw in a breath, and the seductive scent of her skin made his head swim.

He tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. They were wide and dark, reflecting the same urgent desire that surged through his blood. He covered her mouth again, his own hot and hungry, and swallowed her low moan of pleasure. His hands moved down her back, over the curve of her bottom, and he found himself wondering what she was wearing under the skirt. Before he could satisfy his curiosity, headlights washed over the porch—a vehicle pulling into her neighbor’s driveway. They were deep in the shadows, but the glaring light was a timely reminder to both of them of where they were and the dangers of letting the kiss carry them further away.

She dropped her head back against the door again, her breath escaping between erotically swollen lips in short, shallow pants.

He took a minute to catch his breath, too, then another to ensure that his tone was light when he asked, “Do you think you could give me your number now?”

Her eyes were still dark and clouded with desire, but she managed a soft laugh. “Yeah, I guess I could.”

He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and pulled up his list of contacts. She lifted her brows when she saw that he’d already entered her name, although the other fields remained empty.

“What can I say? I’m an optimist.”

She took the phone from him and keyed in her numbers—home and cell—then handed it back to him.

“I’ll call you,” he said.

She nodded, reaching for the handle of the door. Then she turned back to him again. “I might change my number,” she warned, “when my brain isn’t so clouded with lust I can’t think straight.”

“I don’t think you will,” he said. “Because you’re as curious as I am to find out where this is going.”

“It might be going nowhere.”

He heard the desperation in her tone, but he understood the origin of her fear a little better now. “We’ll figure that out together,” he promised.

* * *

Together
.

Jordyn wasn’t sure if the word was terrifying or reassuring.

Together
implied a connection, a joining of two or more things into a single unit, a relationship. It had been a long time since she’d been anything but alone in her personal life. Three years, four months and two days.

She was unexpectedly struck by the realization that she’d now been without Brian for longer than she’d been with him. They’d known each other for almost a year before they started dating, and he’d proposed exactly six months after their first date, with their wedding date set a year later. They’d been together for two and a half years and she’d been alone for more than three years since then.

Maybe it
was
time for her to take a chance of being
together
with someone again. And there wasn’t anyone other than Marco that she wanted to take that chance with.

Tristyn was sitting on the couch in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn on one side, Gryff on the other and her tablet in hand when Jordyn walked into the house.

“Now that’s multitasking,” she said.

“It’s a new season of
The Bachelorette
and I’ve got approvals for our major fall ad campaign due tomorrow.”

“And somehow you’ve hypnotized my cat.”

“Nah—I just bribed him.”

“With popcorn?”

Tristyn shook her head. “I gave him the leftover salmon from my lunch.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t understand why he likes Marco more than he likes me.”

Jordyn laughed. “He met Marco once—and I’m still not convinced he didn’t have catnip in his pockets.”

“So where did you go for dinner tonight?”

“The Idle Plough—a new steak house in Raleigh.”

“Was it good?”

“It was. Really good.”

“And the kiss good-night?” her sister prompted. “And don’t try to tell me he didn’t kiss you, because your hair is tousled, your lips are swollen and your eyes have that glazed look of a woman who’s been kissed senseless.”

“Well, for your information,
I
kissed
him
senseless.”

Tristyn’s brows lifted. “Aren’t you full of surprises?”

Jordyn lowered herself onto the edge of the couch. “I’m thinking about sleeping with him.”

“Are you asking for my approval?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“I like Marco,” Tristyn said. “But more importantly,
you
like him. He’s a sweet, charming, good-looking guy who turns you on, so if you want my advice, I say go for it.”

Jordyn chewed on the side of her thumbnail—a nervous habit left over from her teen years when she used to bite all of her nails. Now it was just the thumb, and only when something was really bothering her.

“I do like him,” she admitted.

Tristyn touched her hand gently. “Honey, being with Marco is not cheating on Brian.”