Bad Boy’s Bridesmaid(15)

“Good call.”

“Lindsey won’t be at the audition. She said she wants to be surprised when she walks down the aisle. So try to find a band that would make her weep but not actually sob.”

“O-kay.”

Bryce eyed the beers on tap. He was welcomed to as much as he needed to make it until the wedding. He shook his head.

“Remember to write what you feel when you hear the music. Lindsey would like a short essay. Nothing crazy.”

Yeah. Because an essay wasn’t insane.

Bryce handed me the rest of the homework Lindsey required. I should have said something, should have warned him right then and there.

Getting married to his girl shouldn’t have come with an alcohol habit and a thousand-yard stare. He should have been happy. Excited to see his woman. Thrilled to touch her.

Willing to wedding plan just to make sure he hadn’t fucked everything up.

I didn’t even recognize myself. This was the last goddamned time I let myself get wound around a woman. Mandy was special, but I had no idea she was subject-myself-to-wedding-bands special. Now I couldn’t get her scent, her taste, or her beautiful smile out of my head.

One more night with her would satisfy my urges. It had to.

Maybe a morning goodbye quickie too. She’d look gorgeous basking in the golden early morning light. Then we’d have breakfast in bed, the perfect way to regain strength for a mid-afternoon fuck. Hell, while she was already there, it was easy enough to keep her with me for another night…

That was a dangerous fantasy. Even more dangerous because I already imagined how the morning sun would strike her naked body, wrapped only in a silken sheet. Mandy was all about contrasts. White sheets, dark skin, passionate lover, sweet friend.

Good girl at home, bad girl for me.

I would seduce Mandy Prescott again, and I’d introduce her to more pleasure than she knew existed. We’d use each other for stress relief until the wedding, no regrets.

I had to convince her it was a good idea.

Easier said than done.

Lindsey reserved the fellowship hall at my dad’s church for the auditions. I hadn’t been there since Easter, and that wasn’t by choice. Mom had called, flustered and sobbing because she lost the pink Easter hat Dad demanded she wear. Had I not been there to hold her hand, Dad would have turned the sermon from the joyful resurrection to something fire, brimstone, and focused on the role of the family—father as head of the church with the rest of us mere mortals subservient to him.

I didn’t bother visiting him. His office door was always open, but only to his parishioners. God forbid his own family had problems that required counseling. That would have meant we were imperfect and reflected badly on him.

I jogged the steps down to the fellowship hall, passing a man tuning his oboe in the stairwell.

Great. Lindsey ordered a symphony.

Mandy had set up a card table with a tablet at her fingers, score cards and listed criteria spread out before her. She snapped a selfie to post to whatever bullshit Instagram or Facebook album Lindsey demanded to chronicle her wedding planning.

I picked a chair from the stack against the wall and plunked it next to Mandy. She flinched, but her expression knotted both relief and apprehension into a wobbly smile.

“I thought you were Lindsey,” she said.

“I’m much worse, apparently.”

She cleared her throat and crossed her legs. Like I’d prop ‘em open and dig in during the auditions.

“You’ll never be worse than Lindsey,” she said.

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Bryce asked me to help judge the bands.” There was some truth to the statement. “Figured I’d come visit. See if you had it handled.”

Mandy stared straight ahead. “Yep. All good. I’ll be okay on my own.”

“Nah, that’s not fair.” I crossed my arms behind my head, leaning back in my chair. “No sense doing this alone, baby.”

“I’m doing a lot of things alone.”

“No need.” I winked. “I’m at your service tonight.”

“I know what you’re trying to do—”

“I’m trying to take some of the pressure off you. Get these bands all auditioned and cataloged for Queen Lindsey.”

Mandy didn’t believe me, and she had good instincts. It didn’t stop her from gnawing on that perfect, full lip. Her fingers twisted in her skirt.

I loved to watch her squirm.

I was serious the last time I trapped her in my embrace. I wanted her to think of me, dream of me, want me every second of the day. When I first tasted her, I fantasized about being the only man who could pleasure her that well. Fortunately, I had no competition.

But it wasn’t enough. Something about this woman had changed since the last time I slept with her—something that made her absolutely irresistible.

“The first band comes highly recommended,” Mandy said. “Traditional sound. Quartet.”

“So…this is how it’s going to be?”

She knew exactly what I meant. “I have to audition these groups for my sister.”

“We’re not even going to talk about what happened the other day?”

Mandy scribbled on the corner of the paper, accidently poking a hole through the essay section with the pen.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t have to talk about it? My one freebie was supposed to come with no strings.”

“Yeah, but I think you’d feel better if you talked about it.”

Her smile wasn’t kind. “You know, Nate. With your reputation? I expected you to back off once you got what you wanted.”

So did I. “Maybe I want something else.”

“And what’s that?”

“You.”

Mandy hesitated. “Do you know what I need?”

“What?”

“The only thing I’ve ever asked of you.” Her almond eyes met mine briefly, a quick tease of power she didn’t know she possessed. “I want to make it to the wedding without any more complications.”

“How do you know I’d complicate things?”

“You already have.”

She smiled at the musicians timidly waiting at the door. If they thought auditioning for a wedding was strange, they didn’t say anything.

Christ, I hoped there weren’t more brides like Lindsey making demands in the world.

The first two groups performed their sets and sounded decent. Wasn’t my type of music, but it’d work for a wedding. Of course, my opinion wasn’t good enough for the bride.

Lindsey armed Mandy with score cards and instructions. She demanded a shit ton of information about her music—well beyond genres and skills. Mood, tone, warmth qualities, sexiness, ability to cover Adele, and set songs. Nothing about price or availability. Apparently if she liked them, she’d hire them, no questions asked.

Mandy’s foot tapped as she listened. She had no idea what she did to me. How long could a man last watching her wiggle with the beat?

This was no way to listen to music or judge how romantic a song was. The group struck up a slow ballad and strummed on soft strings with a sultry rhythm. I grabbed the score cards from Mandy and ripped the paper in two.

Her eyes widened like I’d burned the US flag or, worse, Lindsey’s wedding program.

“What are you doing?” Mandy screeched. “Lindsey’s gonna kill me!”

“There’s only one way to figure out what music is right for a wedding.” I didn’t ask, just took her hand. “You gotta dance to it, baby.”

“Oh, no.” Mandy shrunk away, awkwardly shaking her head, even as the band encouraged her. “Really, I’m good.”

I tugged her out of the seat. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Dancing with you?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a lot of things that could happen.”

That wasn’t good enough for me. “I can think of only one—you enjoy it.”

Mandy dug her heels into the floor, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight me, especially when I lured her with the most powerful weapon I possessed.

A smile.

“Nate—”

I wrapped her in my embrace, but I was a gentleman. I kept my hands at her hips. It was the only thing that prevented her from dissolving into a puddle of embarrassment. I liked that. For whatever reason, it was cute on her. She panicked around me like she didn’t trust herself so near my body.

Not in the swaying music.

Not with my touch upon her waist.

Not with my breath in her ear.

The ballad slowed and dipped, and the musicians helped me out. They played a slower, sexier, more intimate song, and Mandy couldn’t escape the beat.

Her fingers curled into my shirt, and she didn’t pull away. I’d take anything I could get. Simply touching this woman excited me. I never wanted to let her go.

For the first time, I stopped caring what it meant. It was time to keep her in my arms.

“You don’t trust me, do you?” I breathed deep, savoring the warm vanilla trace over her skin.

Her body softened, and she rocked within my arms.

“I don’t trust your intentions,” she said.

“You know what they are.”

“You want to sleep with me.”

Yes. Definitely. Maybe more, but neither of us had the clarity of thought to imagine beyond the bedroom.

“You’re beautiful. You’re sweet. You’re the best fuck I ever had.”