Page 28 of Always a Bridesmaid

To keep himself from sporting a woody then and there, he focused on the room, surprised by the size. It was small, tidy but small. He’d imagined a woman with her means would have reserved a suite like he had done for himself and each of his family members.

All her things were put in their place. Her suitcase was stacked neatly in the corner, and a few thumbtacks were scattered around the floor, which was a bit odd, but he let it go. On the nightstand was a book. A romance book by the cover,which struck him as strange since she didn’t strike him as a romantic. And on top was a?—

“And what do we have here?” He walked over to her nightstand, and she raced past him and grabbed the vibrator before he could get a good look at it.

She shoved it under a pillow and her fair skin went red, making her freckles stand out even more. He’d never been into freckles. But he was becoming more and more fond of them by the second.

“It seems you’ve found your date after all. My cousin Philip will be heartbroken,” he said.

“Like you don’t…you know.”

He took a step forward into the sweet floral scent that he was coming to obsess over. “Please explain it to me so I can be certain we are on the same page.”

“Masturbate.” She looked at his crotch and he felt it twitch. All it took was her saying the word and glancing its direction, and his dick was ready to sprout wings. She noticed and grinned.

“Onanism.” She stepped closer. “Self-love.” Lowered her voice to a breathy whisper. “Solo play.” Closer. “Rub one out. Spank the monkey. Flying solo.” So close he could feel her words skate across his skin. “Beat off. Cooking the cucumber. Choking the bishop. Clitorizing. Petting the cat.” She placed her palms flat against his chest, which had seized up, unlike what was going on in his pants. “Or as you Brits would say, ‘Wanking.’”

Then there she was, leaning into him until he was certain she was going to invite him into a little double action wanking, but at the last moment she zigged right past him, like a spring breeze, and placed her vibrator back on top of her book.

“Now, did you come here to ask to borrow my lube, or did you have something else on your mind?”

Besides giving her smart mouth something else to concentrate on? Yeah, he did but he’d rather swallow razorblades than bring it up. Especially since their usual animosity and banter was back. But he’d created a potential PR nightmare and now it was time to handle it before it blew up in his face. Especially with his sister’s wedding this weekend.

“Actually, I came to talk about Sarah.”

That playful smile of hers faded into concern and he wished he’d never said a word. She didn’t smile often, not that genuine smile she did when they were together, like she meant it. Not the one that was clearly manufactured to reassure others.

Elle headed for the door, as if ready to spring into bridesmaid action. “Is she okay? Where is she?”

He gently grabbed her elbow, letting his hand slide down to hers. It was as soft as the robe. Softer. Before he knew what he was doing, their fingers were laced and they were sitting together on the bed, their thighs brushing—those big, beautiful, more-hazel-than-green-today pools looking up at him with so much concern. “She’s fine.”

Elle encased his hand between the both of hers and tilted her head. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Remember how I told you about the photos? It would kill Sarah if she ever found out or if even a rumor of their existence was leaked.”

A knowing expression overtook her face but not before a flash of hurt crossed her eyes. “I’d never let anything get out that could hurt Sarah like that. I promise.”

He wanted to believe her, but he’d been burned before. Yet he’d opened his big mouth and sang like a canary, so he had no choice but to see how things played out. Sadly, in the end, everyone had their price. Then again, women like Elle didn’t need money, but some people spilled the tea for the rush of it all, to be a part of the drama for even just their fifteen minutes.

She isn’t like that, his gut said. But he’d been wrong in the past. He just hoped he wasn’t wrong this time.

A knowing expression crossed her face. “I know what it’s like to have your secrets spilled for everyone to hear and judge. I’d never put someone else through that. You have to trust me.”

“Trust doesn’t come easy for me.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

9

“Again, that’s something I probably should have known beforehand,” Jane said to Sarah.

Tonight was the combination bachelor/bachelorette party, or as the Brits say, a stag and hen party. And while it was tradition to have separate parties for each gender, Sarah and Wayne wanted to combine theirs. No strippers or tacky penis shot glasses for this couple. Oh no, they’d rented out one of the most exclusive clubs in London and it was a VIP, invite-only, cameras-and-phones-left-at-the-door, NDAs-required affair. There were so many celebrities, Jane felt like she was at the Oscars.

The red carpet and professional photographer at the entrance only added to the effect. She’d never seen so many diamonds and runway-ready women in her life. She felt completely underdressed and out of place in her black Betsey Johnson that she bought off the rack at a secondhand shop.

For most of her events, her clothes were perfect. She should have been better prepared for this kind of elegance and glamour. Tonight was as lux and posh as posh got and she was wearing heels from a wedding she’d worked six weeks ago. Yes, it hadbeen at a country club and yes, they were expensive, but notLifestyles of the Rich and Famousexpensive.

“When are you going to tell him?” Jane continued.

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