The Sweetest Fling (A Stupid Cupid Book) (7 page)

Claire was getting married. Of course, she was getting married. Most of Jace’s darker
What if?
and
Where is she now?
moments showcased Claire as married. With children. The lighter ones had her single, waiting for the day they’d run into each other and—stupid to ever think it. Foolish fantasies.

Reality kicked him in the balls.

Ashley gave Claire a hug, and those bottomless eyes of hers moved away from Jace and onto Ashley and her very big belly. Jace couldn’t just stand there. Neither could he get the hell out of there. His mom would suspect, if not be outright offended, if he left. All this time. Six long years. His insides ached at memories. He couldn’t let Claire see how much he still felt for her.

Because he shouldn’t.

“When are you due?” Claire asked Ashley, her eyes darting to Jace’s.

Jace took a deep gulp of vanilla-scented air and held it for a count of ten. Hand on his neck, he let it out in a quiet hiss. He could do this. He
had
to do this. No leaving the scene, no wishful thinking—just smiles and warm wishes, the same way he’d greet any woman who never broke his heart.

His pulse calmed to a near-normal beat—normal being
not
a dull roar in his and throat—Jace stepped closer. Clutching her dress top, Millie sent him a goofy grin. What was she grinning like a lunatic about? If she started flirting, he didn’t know what he’d do. Avoid his sister even more than he had since the chick latched onto Ashley.

At his mom’s insistence, Claire turned for them. Her gaze caught Jace’s in the three-way mirror. His head spun. How dare she still look so good? So stunning?

“Hey, you,” she said from the reflection, a small quake in her voice that could only have been in Jace’s imagination.

He sent her a nod. When she came over, her arms were open.

“That’s Jace,” Millie said in a rush. “Not Tyler.”

“Uh, yeah. I can tell them apart.” Claire could hardly reach his hands for her wide skirt, but she clasped them tightly. “How are you?”

Jace returned her air hug. His mind drank up the feel of her hands. Soft, long-fingered. A pointy rock of a ring. “I’m great. How’ve you been?”

She shrugged. The dress accentuated her long neck and graceful collarbone. Her skin gleamed in the bright light. Jace had touched those shoulders, had come so damn close to tasting that skin. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t dreamed of reversing the clock six pathetic years ago to do it differently.

Why here, and why
now
? He was taking his mom to meet his now serious girlfriend in less than an hour for lunch. And Tyler would be here any minute. Disaster. The day would only end up in a complete disaster.

“Can someone zip me up?” Millie said, a little on the loud side.

Ashley and his mom rushed to help. Claire laced her hand into his and, mammoth skirt be damned, pulled Jace into a tight hug. Jace didn’t know what to do. His heart weighted to the ground with regret. He breathed in Claire’s scent and wrapped his arms around her tightly before anyone saw.

How could she smell the same—after all this time? How could Jace remember it? Part of him wanted to hold tighter, to never let go. To fight. Fight like he should have years ago. He should have found her. He should have at least tried to fulfill the promise they’d made in the grass, listening to the neighborhood awaken.

He hadn’t. She never called, and never emailed.

He’d taken the hint.

“You look incredible,” Claire whispered against Jace’s neck. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Her breasts pressed against Jace’s chest. She touched the hair at his neck with one hand. Tickles raced over Jace’s skin, and the world might have disappeared. But Millie’s closing zipper acted as a gong.

Their arms dropped. The embrace collapsed, and Jace stepped away in time to blink back wetness in his eyes and school his features.

“When is the big day, Claire?” Helen asked.

“April first,” Claire said, turning to face the older woman. “You should all come.”

Was she serious? Did she hate him enough to want him to witness her wedding?

“Oh, that would be just wonderful,” Helen said. “Tyler will be so happy for you. Why, that’s less than a month from now, though, so I’d better check my calendar.”

“Of course,” Claire said, her voice even now. “And how is Tyler and everyone else?”

Jace kept his eyes on his sister’s forehead, a nice, safe place. He counted the three lines there over and again. Millie sidled up to him with that grin on her face. It took all he had for him not to groan and walk away.

“Tyler’s great, just great. There really is so much to catch up on.” The dress rustled as his mom swayed and gestured. “Oh, I know! Why don’t you join us for lunch, Claire? We have a table at Monti’s waiting for us just as soon as Ashley finishes picking her dresses.”

Jace’s gut cinched a knot. Lunch? Lunch. Did no one else see how wrong an idea that one was? Tyler would not be happy to see Claire...well...happy. Why would he? Tyler had been heartbroken over Claire. Almost as heartbroken as Jace shouldn’t still be.

Shit.

“Lunch?” Claire sounded dumbfounded.

“Yes, oh, you must. We’re meeting up with Jace’s new friend, Belinda.”

“Bels,” Jace automatically corrected. They’d been dating for months. It was her mother’s way of protesting what Bels actually was. And sitting across from both Bels, the woman who wanted to shop sofas and rings with Jace, plus Claire, the woman who occupied the place in Jace’s heart that Bels wanted to own.

Disaster. World-class disaster. Terrible idea. And yet, as he watched Claire’s face, he hoped for a sign of jealousy. Maybe she’d want to meet his girlfriend about as much as he’d want to catch the garter.

“I’d love to,” Claire said, loud enough that Jace’s meager, “Kind of short notice,” went unnoticed by all.

“Perfect. All we need to do, then, is find a dress for me,” Helen said and dragged Ashley away to do just that.

“Holy crap, do I have to pee!” Millie exclaimed and rushed off.

Leaving Jace standing far too close to Claire, and far too alone with her.

“I won’t cause any problems, I promise,” Claire said. “It’s just that ... well ... it’s been so long. And I,” she said, pausing to swallow and meet Jace’s stare. “I’ve missed you.”

Whatever resolve Jace had to house his heart under lock and key threatened to unlatch. Claire touched his arm. “You look amazing, really, Jace.”

“Thank you,” Jace said. “You look like a bride.” He’d have snatched the words back if he could. Still. They were so true, so glaringly obvious, and the statement penetrated some of his haze of longing.

With a glance down, Claire half-chuckled and half-gasped. “Yeah. I guess I do. I wish I felt more like one.”

Jace frowned slightly, resisting the urge to ask what she meant. He didn’t want to know. No, that was a lie. He did want to know—too much so. So he shut his mouth.

“I suppose I should take it off.” Claire shifted and the skirt swished, hitting his legs.

Visions of Claire standing in a pool, undressed, flashed in Jace’s mind. God, but he wanted to help her right out of that dress. What? No. She was engaged! He was in a relationship. After this long, she shouldn’t have any power over Jace.

Dangerous power.

“Yeah. I should ... go.” With a quick smile and a shrug, he stepped back from Claire, but his eyes could not break away from the intense gaze locked onto his. Her look seemed to ask a million questions and beg for a single hope.

Instead, he almost went toward her. To hold her close. To cup her face into his hands, to kiss her so thoroughly that her world spun sideways. That it branded her heart forever.

Maybe she was not a good kisser.

Maybe all this time, he’d built up too many fantasies in his head. Claire looked as though she had something to say. He waited. Rooted to where he was standing.

“Just this last one, Jace, and I swear we’ll be done,” Ashley said and walked past, grabbing his arm.

Like a puppy, Jace followed his drill sergeant of a sister back toward the dressing rooms. He could feel Claire watching him walk away. It killed him. Just as he gave in to glance back, the swish of Claire’s dress told him she was already walking away, too.

~~

Chapter Eight

Claire didn’t want him to go. The curve of his posture. Those wide shoulders. Even his eyes were better than any memory had served. She spun away, hand to her forehead. What was she doing? She was getting married. In less than thirty days, she was walking down the aisle and seeing the end of a very long engagement and months of arrangements. She would become Oliver’s wife, take his name, join his family’s firm, and begin her life. The life she’d hand selected.

No more would she waffle over who she was or what she wanted.

She knew.

If she didn’t know by now, she never would.

Thank God her mother hadn’t insisted on coming today. What a disaster that could have been. Eve Byron had a pit-bull grip on her daughter’s wedding arrangements and there was no way she wouldn’t sniff out a history here.

Meeting Jace like this had to be some sort of test. Her greatest wish, only regret, and one desire, lay before her feet like truth or dare—
Are you sure?

She would not fail. She couldn’t. Too much was at risk. Her parents would never forgive her. Oliver would never forgive her. They’d already gotten the marriage license, she’d quit the WRC, and her dress was perfect.

She shut the dressing room door on herself, glad for the distance between the bridal room and main hall of fitting rooms. She shouldn’t have come alone. All she wanted to do was follow Jace and explain. Tell him why she never called, detail why she was getting married, why it was the right decision, and why they could never have worked out, no matter how much they felt for each other. No matter how much they still wanted each other.

Attraction.

Base attraction tied to memory, colored by time and regret.

She wanted to follow him to say that she was sorry. But if she followed him, she would do something that she couldn’t take back. She’d already hugged him tight, held his hand like a schoolgirl needing to stand next to her crush during the Pledge of Allegiance, as though sheer nearness could satisfy the sudden hole of need that gaped open upon seeing him.

Claire unzipped the dress, so thankful that she’d declined help with the hundred buttons.

What had she been thinking, agreeing to lunch? She wasn’t thinking clearly; that was obvious. She probably wouldn’t until she got some space between her and Jace. If only one grin hadn’t struck her right in the heart.

Ugh. This was bad. Very bad.

Bad or not, she dug out her lip gloss and blotted her shiny nose on her sleeve as she dressed. Her reflection didn’t show the riot inside her. Did it?

She should make her excuses to Helen. Instead, she waited. She worried. What if meeting Jace here meant something?

At the very least, it was her chance to say good-bye. Claire stared at her reflection in the mirror. She fixed her shirt and toyed with her hair. Maybe she should wear it up. A flash of memory. The wedding. The way his gaze never left her neckline while they were on the dance floor. Why had Jace been so mesmerized by her neck? Why hadn’t any man ever looked at her like that since?

It didn’t matter.

Maybe men did. Would she even notice? She dropped her hair.

She would make her excuses to Helen. It was the right thing to do. Nodding at her reflection, she wiped her hands down her jeans and stepped out of the bride’s room. Feeling only a tad light-headed, she made her way across the lobby to the smaller chain of rooms on the other side.

Helen motioned her over. “Millie will just be another minute. How wonderful that you two get to reconnect.”

Claire took a deep breath. “Mrs. Fletcher ...”

“You know better than that, Claire. You and Tyler may not have worked out, but you are still a friend of the family. Everyone has missed you. So, no ‘Mrs. Fletcher’ here, alright?”

“Of course.” Claire kept her shoulders straight, though they wanted to loll forward and relax. The woman knew how to put a person at ease. “About lunch—”

Jace stepped around the dressing room corridor. He leaned against a wall, took a slow sip from a paper cup, and dragged his gaze up the length of her. Whatever sanity Claire had gathered together skipped right out the door.

Millie popped out of her dressing room door. “We’re going to Pita Jungle. You’ll love it.”

What would one little lunch hurt? What would lunch with Jace do to Oliver’s inferiority complex? Jace shifted his weight, his gaze deceptively disinterested. Did he want her there?

“I guess I could eat,” she said at last, and though it was subtle, she saw a change in Jace’s gaze. A little spark that made her question her decision.

Too late. Millie was dressed and ready. She hooked arms with Claire. Lunchtime.

* * *

Three hours later, the angry clatter of Claire’s keys hitting the granite breakfast bar felt good in her ears. Fitting. If only the plop of her purse next to them did as well. She kicked off her shoes, holding the wall to balance herself. Two too many glasses of wine. Thank goodness for cabs.

Lunch had become dessert. Dessert had stretched into coffee, and coffee into wine. Before long, only the three of them were left—Claire, Jace and Bels—(What kind of name was “Bels” anyway?). And though the sweet little thing gave Claire cool looks that turned downright icy, Claire couldn’t bring herself to get up and leave that damned restaurant.

Like a puppy. That’s what she’d felt like. Like a lost puppy wagging its little tail, hoping for a table scrap. Although she
was
getting far more than scraps. Jace had given Claire most of his attention and most of his smiles and laughs. Every look and every word kept Claire glued to her seat, while the claws of jealousy scratched deeper and deeper into her heart.