But, God, it had been exciting, being in his arms that way, rubbing and swaying against him, feeling his erection prodding her and watching his gaze turn heavy and intent. Every move had heightened her own arousal, until she’d felt as if she’d come if he moved against her just one more time. If the happy couple hadn’t surprised her by sneaking off … who knew what might have happened?

Now, deprived of his body against hers, she throbbed with a frustrated ache that made her press her legs together trying to contain the feeling. She should never have danced with him. She should never have had that beer.

She couldn’t blame it on the beer, though, not just one beer. She should have had two. Then she’d have a viable excuse.

She turned in at the extended-stay hotel, parked in one of the two slots outside the unit he’d booked for her. As she stepped up on the sidewalk he pulled in beside her, got out of the car.

Jaclyn swallowed, tried to make herself say the words that would send him away. Silently he came to her, took the key card from her hand.

They made it inside. At least they did that. She flipped one of the light switches as they came through the door, and a lamp came on. As soon as the door closed behind them, though, he had his arms around her and his mouth on hers, and he used his big body to crowd her backward toward the separate bedroom—and she let him. She not only let him, she had her arm wound around his neck and one leg hooked around his hips.

His hands were rough on her, pulling at her clothes, tugging so sharply once that she heard a seam rip. She didn’t care. He tipped her across the bed, came down on top of her. A few frantic seconds later he had her skirt up and her underwear off, and one hard muscled thigh between her legs, moving them apart. The thick, hot slide of his penis into her made her scream, then, because she was already coming, the sound choked off as she buried her face against his shoulder. He said her name, his voice guttural, then he hooked her legs in the crooks of his arms and began riding her hard and fast.

He didn’t spend the night this time. She woke a little after midnight, and he was gone.

So, evidently, was her common sense. She lay awake for a while, filled with an aching sadness. Every time he touched her it was like being stroked by lightning, and everyone knew lightning destroyed. It was bright and beautiful, but it left behind nothing but scorched earth.


Chapter Twenty-five

“I DON’T THINK WE SHOULD GO TO THIS WEDDING,” SENATOR Dennison said uneasily as he and Fayre were getting dressed. “I mean, Sean is barely holding himself together, and with the funeral home visitation tonight—”

“Nonsense,” Fayre said briskly. “If either of us had cared for Carrie it would be different, but there’s no pretending, even to Sean, that we did. He knows we were prepared to welcome her for his sake, but that’s all. Even though she’s dead, I’m not going to let her turn me into a hypocrite.”

Fayre’s gaze was clear and unwavering. The senator sighed. Some people muddled through life, but not Fayre. She always knew who she was, what she was, and what she was doing—and apologized for none of it. She wasn’t a cruel person, but neither was she a particularly comfortable one. He was human; he made mistakes; he blundered along, doing the best he could and always aware he fell short of her standards. What was really unnerving was the unspoken thought that she was always aware of that, too.

But what would he do without her? He loved Taite; he really did, because he could relax with her. She wasn’t perfect, so he didn’t have to be perfect with her. With her, he was the one in the driver’s seat. With Fayre, he would always be the husband who rode on her coattails. It was her family money that gave them their social standing, her business sense that kept their income healthy, her connections that made things happen.

The worst part of it was, he loved her, too. Loved her, and feared her, and sometimes he couldn’t tell which emotion was the strongest.

So, because Fayre said they had to go to this wedding, he finished knotting his tie.

Jaclyn was already at the church before she realized that, with all the recent chaos in her life, she could easily and legitimately have excused herself from the Sunday-afternoon wedding. No one at Premier would have batted an eye; they would have banded together and made sure that everything was taken care of. But of the six weddings they’d handled this week, this was the big one. Everyone who worked at Premier had had a hand in today’s wedding and reception, and it was something they could truly be proud of. After all the stress of being investigated and shot at, after days of footballs, mullets, and family feuds, she needed to be involved in a wedding like this one. For her own sanity, she had to be here.

Besides, being at work was easier than being by herself, where she couldn’t escape from her thoughts, and from the unavoidable realization that she was a coward.

No, being here was better. The last of the week’s six weddings was the most traditional and definitely the most spectacular. Both families were big in business—one in music, the other in construction machinery, which was much duller than music but was evidently way more profitable—so money hadn’t been a concern. The bride’s mother was from one of the prominent families in Georgia, which upped the social awareness of the event a hundred times over. By the time you put it all together this was the wedding to attend, and the place to be on this particular Sunday afternoon.

The church was elegantly arrayed in white and pale peach roses, lilies, and so many flickering candles the overheads were almost an afterthought. A trio of violins had provided the music—classical and without flaw—as the guests had arrived, and for the procession. Guests were appropriately dressed and so far had behaved as they should, given the import of the day. Even the flower girl and ring-bearer were both adorable, and both had been well-behaved. There hadn’t been a peep out of either of them: no tears, no temper tantrums, no throwing up in the aisle. She could count that as a definite success.

The bridesmaids were gorgeous in a shade of pale salmon that suited them all, and each and every one of them appeared to be happy to be a part of this wedding. If any one of them was suffering from always-a-bridesmaid-never-a-bride syndrome, she hid it well. Their gowns were simple and elegant, and Jaclyn had no doubt that, instead of being sold at a yard sale or even burned, these gowns would be worn again.

The bride had chosen a sweeping, traditional gown, and the groom’s tux fit so well she knew it had been made for him—but then, this was the type of group where probably all of the groomsmen owned their own custom-fitted tuxes, as well. The church smelled of flowers and candles and a touch of perfume. Outside it was a hot day, but the air in the sanctuary was running at full blast so it was blessedly cool. For the moment, as the couple said their vows, all was right with the world.

Jaclyn glanced around the sanctuary and gave herself and her mother a mental pat on the back, and delivered a still and silent high-five to Diedra and Peach for a job well done. This was a day to remember for the couple at the center of it all, a perfect moment in time they would never forget. It was a relief to know that in a crazy world, such moments still existed.

She shouldn’t have looked around, because her gaze fell on the tall, muscular man who was standing motionless at the back of the church, half-hidden in the shadows. He hadn’t been invited, but the badge and weapon he wore were their own engraved invitations. When he arrived, the two fathers had gravely conferred with him, both of them had nodded, and Eric had gotten what he wanted, which was to be here. He’d stayed out of the way, but she’d never for one moment forgotten he was there, or been unable to pinpoint his location without even looking.

From the first second she’d seen him, her life had been turned on its head. In less than a week she’d completely overthrown her normally cautious nature to indulge in a one-night stand, then she’d been assaulted and fired by a client, then been suspected of and investigated for that client’s murder—by the same man she’d had the one-night stand with. Oh, yes, she shouldn’t forget that she’d also become the target of a would-be murderer, probably the same person who’d killed Carrie Edwards, and now her car had been impounded and she was living in a hotel because it wasn’t safe for her to be in her own home. She’d always thought of herself as being strong, but she wasn’t nearly strong enough to get through this ordeal alone. She was glad Eric was there. She might not be able to admit it to him, but she had to admit it to herself.

If Carrie hadn’t been murdered, Jaclyn thought, she would still have him on her mind. She’d be waiting for him to call and ask her out, wondering if he really would. This week, she’d told him, after the craziness of six weddings in five days was behind her. If their first night together was any indication, they would have ended up back at her place, maybe starting something new and wonderful, maybe finding much more than what they had been looking for when they’d met. She’d heard that it happened that way sometimes, love coming out of the blue, surprising and unexpected, but she’d thought people exaggerated.

But, Carrie had gotten herself killed, and Jaclyn had been a suspect, and Eric had interrogated her and taken her clothes to check for bloodstains, and even if her blood and body did start to steam a little every time she looked at him, how could she ever get past that?

That was where the cowardice came in, because she wanted to get past it, yet was afraid to. She was tired of being alone, tired of watching other people find happiness while she stood on the sidelines, with only her mother and friends to keep her company. Not that she didn’t appreciate how important they were to her life, but still, it wasn’t always enough. She wanted to do what other women did, to reach out and grab for happiness. She had, once, only to watch it disintegrate right in front of her eyes. Had her marriage fallen apart because instead of completely committing herself to her husband she’d held part of herself back, waiting for him to let her down? Which, of course, he’d promptly done. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.

But she was still holding herself back, still afraid to take that chance, to really love a man. The only man who had ever tempted her out of her comfort zone was Eric Wilder, and she’d let circumstance put him off limits—way, way off limits. And in spite of telling herself again and again that it didn’t matter, she knew deep down that it did, more than she dared to admit.

Eric hadn’t even tried to pass himself off as Jaclyn’s date. Not only was it not necessary in this particular crowd, but she wasn’t alone here; her mother and the other two women from Premier were here, and if he’d begun acting all lovey-dovey with Jaclyn he figured the three of them would try to take his head off. He’d have to do something about that, he thought as he did yet another narrow-eyed scan of the people in the church.