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Daughters Of The Bride(99)

By:Susan Mallery


He walked toward her. “They’re not ‘blue ones,’” he said with air quotes. “They’re Saint Laurent suede pumps. I’ll buy you black heels. Maybe Jimmy Choo.” He reached around her to lock the door.

She was both intrigued and stressed. “I don’t have time for sex.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Good. We’re not going to have sex. Come here.”

He led her to the chair by the sofa and told her to sit. She saw a tray on the end table with a couple of small bottles with narrow tips, a washcloth and liquid in a bowl.

“What are you up to?” she asked as she took her seat.

“Henna.”

“Huh?”

He pulled a rolling stool over from the corner and sat down, then wiped the back of her hand with the cloth. “I’m going to do a henna design on the backs of your hands.”

He could have said he was heading off to Jupiter and she wouldn’t have been any more surprised. “Why would you do that?”

He glanced at her, then returned his attention to her hand. “Why not?”

Honest to God, it was a question she couldn’t answer. “Did I mention being busy?”

“You did. Think of this as a mental vacation.”

He picked up one of the small bottles and began squeezing the thick liquid on her skin. He worked quickly, creating a swirly design that was both simple and beautiful. More impressive, he was doing it freehand, without a template or a picture or anything.

“You’ve done this before,” she said.

“A few times. I like to be creative from time to time. I’ve designed a few record covers. It’s a nice change.”

She watched as he took the design past her wrist. With all she had going on, it was kind of nice to just sit for a few minutes.

“What do I have to do to this?” she asked.

“Nothing. Once it dries, you brush off the henna and the design remains. Depending on your skin chemistry, it will last around ten days, maybe longer.”

“Fun.”

He finished with her right hand and rolled the stool to the other side of her chair to start on her left. She closed her eyes as he worked. The past few nights she’d covered the late shift on the registration desk and then had cleaned rooms in the morning. The wedding was only a month away and there were a thousand things to do.

“Joyce showed my mother some flower I have to find, along with cherry blossoms, which are not, by the way, in season. But does that matter to anyone? Of course not. Oh, and she found napkins that match the texture on the wedding cake. I get to order those, as well.”

“You’re busy.”

“I am. What about you?”

“Things are good.”

“How’s the boy band?”

“Annoying Wayne.”

She smiled. “Which you enjoy.”

“I do.” He tapped her knee. “I’m done.”

She opened her eyes and looked at the swirling and curved lines covering the backs of her hands. “It’s beautiful. So how long does it take to dry?”

“Two hours.”

“Two hours!” She came to her feet. “What part of ‘I’m busy’ wasn’t clear to you? I can’t sit here for two hours.”

He smiled as he rose. “You’re going to have to. You can’t get anything on the henna or it will be ruined. You don’t want a smudge on the pattern, do you?”

“Are you insane? I have to go and do things.”

“Sorry. I guess you’re stuck.”

He didn’t sound sorry at all.

She glared at him. “If I didn’t have henna on my hands, I would so hit you.”

He grinned. “But you do and you can’t. Two long hours. Whatever are we going to do?”

His tone caught her attention before the words sank in. When both connected in her brain, she felt her insides start to melt.

“Quinn,” she began, not sure if she was annoyed or impressed. Probably the latter, she admitted, but only to herself. “Seriously, the time thing.”

“You’re stuck. That’s my bad. I’m going to have to make it up to you.” He looked her up and down. “How should I do that?” He reached for the front of her jeans. “I know.”

He unfastened her jeans and worked on the zipper. She reached to push him away, remembered her hands and was able to only stand there awkwardly as he lowered her jeans to the floor. She stepped out of them. Her panties followed. She was naked from the waist down, in the living room of his bungalow. It was a very strange afternoon.

He pushed her clothes to the side and moved close, then cupped her face. She had only a second to brace herself for the impact of his kiss before he claimed her.