Chapter 3
Three
L indsay was annoyingly calm and chirpy as she prepared to walk down the aisle on her father’s arm. Everyone was in position now. Mr Walters and Lindsay, followed by two little bridesmaids, Lindsay’s younger sisters, Paula and Lauren and then Steph.
As they all walked down the aisle to The Bridal March , Steph smiled at the sight of Charlie turning to look at his bride like a man totally in love. Her chest felt tight, a weight sitting there as a sense of sadness washed over her at the realisation that she could have been a bride in a different life or if things had worked out with Simon. Although, she was also relieved not to be walking up the aisle towards him.
Steph came to a standstill behind Lindsay and took her bouquet from her before stepping to the side. She looked across at the bride and groom and realised that the best man was staring at her, admiring the image of her looking every inch the demure lady. She shifted from one foot to the other, her nude stilettos covered by a full length, chocolate brown, strapless, satin dress. The corseted detail to the waist held her tightly while the skirt that fell below a cream sash flared gently to the floor, adding an air of femininity. Her hair was curled and piled on top of her head with cream flowers and crystal pins fixed through it. She had added a crystal choker and matching, dangly earrings.
She flushed slightly as she realised Jon was smiling at her now and despite her determination not to, she returned his smile.
As the service was completed, Steph followed her friends to a side area where the wedding document was to be signed and could feel the charge between her and Jon as he walked next to her.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered.
“Not too slutty?” she asked, unable to resist one dig.
He frowned at her and then smiled. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t know you, but you do appear to be rather fool hardy with your own safety.”
She nodded because she could offer no counterargument to that after waking up in Jon’s bed, clueless as to what had happened or even how she’d got there.
When they posed for photos, signing the official paperwork with their friends, Steph could feel a shift between them again. Things were a little easier and as she relaxed in Jon’s company he seemed to become more human, so much so that by the time they were walking back down the aisle behind their friends he offered her his arm, which she accepted, making her ridiculously happy to be there.
Steph had to keep reminding herself that she needed to stay strong and remain sober and un-slutty. She could not give into her desire for this man, no matter how much she wanted to because apart from the fact that he was too much for her in every way, he was married.
There were more photos outside and as the bridesmaids and male attendants were called together, the photographer stood Steph next to Jon and put the others to their sides and in front of them. The photographer snapped away then stood Steph and Jon together and as he called for the customary ‘cheese’ pose from the two of them Steph felt Jon’s hand on her bum, he didn’t pinch or squeeze it, nor did he cup it, but simply rested his hand on it.
With his hand still on her, he spoke. “Clean slate?”
Steph looked up at him suspiciously and as much as she knew she should tell him to let her go, she didn’t. “We’ll see.”
“Please, maid of honour and best man, pull yourselves together. It’s not time for twenty questions, just look forward and smile. It’s quite simple,” the photographer barked at them impatiently.
Exchanging a look that saw Steph’s brow crease into a frown, she huffed. “I have a whole team I manage, I have an assistant, I’m responsible for all of their admin staff as well as overseeing new accounts to my company and I have just been publicly chastised for simply talking to you,” she said wryly as the call of ‘cheese’ was repeated.
With a broad grin, Jon placed an arm around Steph’s waist before they both picked up their cue and smiled.
“Thank you,” said the photographer, two words that should have been the epitome of good manners dripping with sarcasm and delivered patronisingly.
“Would you like me to hit him for you?” Jon laughed at her expression. “I would do that as an apology for my behaviour last week.” He winked at her and it was the sexiest thing ever.
It was only normally her dad who winked at her and when he did it she didn’t get that fluttering sensation in her tummy or anywhere else, and right now she was fluttering everywhere meaning this man was seriously dangerous for her head and heart.
“That won’t be necessary.” She smiled far too much.
“The offer is there if you change your mind and I’m good for it,” he assured her.
“I don’t doubt it.” She smiled again.
“You are very beautiful when you smile.” His tone turned darker, serious.
“Thank you,” she replied with a slight flush.
The photographer was organising other people again and as Mr Walters appeared at her side, she turned to talk to him, then realised that Jon had gone. She felt sad that he wasn’t next to her, but presumably he was back with his wife who Steph hadn’t yet caught sight of. She really needed to keep that in the forefront of her mind . . . he might be hot, sexy, and charming, but he was married.
The bride and groom left together and suddenly Steph realised that she was minus the other bridesmaids who had left with the parents of the bride.
“Ride?” asked a familiar voice from behind her.
She turned and found Jon looking at her enquiringly. What about his wife? Could she stand a journey with him and her together? He’d be all attentive to her and Steph would have to sit and watch it all.
“Stephanie, do you need a ride? A lift?” he asked, slightly impatient.
“Yes, thank you, what about your wife? Won’t she mind?” she babbled.
He frowned and then smiled at her. “My wife?”
“Yes,” she replied, irritated by his vagueness. “You may remember her in a big white dress, sickness and in health, I do, blah, blah, blah.” Her voice oozed sarcasm.
He smiled, irritating her further. “You’re funny, really you are. Far more interesting sober than you are drunk, Stephanie.”
“And yet you sent Lindsay and I champagne at the spa?” she suddenly realised.
“But that was gestural alcohol, apologetic, not for getting trollied,” he explained. “Now, do you want a lift or are you walking?”
“Thank you.” She accepted his arm again for him to lead her to a very sleek, sporty car that gleamed.
He held the passenger door open for her. “My wife? Is that courtesy of the blushing bride?” He spoke with a flatness that somehow unnerved Steph who was now wondering if she had overstepped the mark somehow.
“Yes, Linds did mention that you have a wife.”
“What else did she say?” he asked seriously.
“Nothing, just that you had a wife,” she replied honestly but added, “I was really mad with you at that point so the conversation ended there.”
“I see. My life is complicated, but divorce really isn’t possible. I don’t have children but yes, I do have a wife. Any more than that is not something I share with people I barely know.”
“Do you have mistresses?” she asked bravely considering his angst was already rising with her, although Steph did wonder if it was with her, himself as the guilty husband or Lindsay for having told her about his wife, not that she’d really said anything of note.
“I have had one-night-stands and flings, but I have never had anyone I considered to be a mistress,” he said honestly, and at that point Steph really did have no response.
As they sat next to each other at the top table of the reception Steph felt that there had been another, more subtle shift in things between them, but wasn’t sure how. The speeches were predictable with lots of references to how beautiful the bride was, how lucky Charlie was and what a wonderful day it had been. Jon’s speech had included lots of anecdotes about their college and uni days with summaries of some of the scrapes they had been in, then he said that the bridesmaids were beautiful and finally made another toast to the bride and groom before retaking his seat.
Once everyone had made their way through to the ballroom of the country club where the reception was Charlie and Lindsay took to the floor for their first dance to applause and a chorus of oohs and ahs.
“How embarrassing,” commented Steph with a cringe for good measure.
“But how romantic,” said Jon in response making her laugh.
The disc jockey said something inaudible and then said more clearly, “The dance floor is now open to everyone.”
“Shall we?” asked Jon.
“I didn’t think you danced?” she responded making reference to his own comment in the club.
“Maybe I should reconsider, I’m doing a lot of that today.” He smiled as he led Steph onto the dance floor where he spun her around.
He could certainly dance. Maybe he only usually danced with his wife. Steph couldn’t get that out of her head. He had a wife . They moved around the floor together with ease, as though they each knew the other’s body, how they each fitted together, physically and rhythmically. At the end of the song, Jon dipped her resulting in applause that made him laugh. Something that made him even more attractive to her. More attractive and more dangerous.
“I do hope that wasn’t too embarrassing.”
She shook her head at him. “I think you lie too easily and too convincingly.”
He shrugged, offering no defence or denial before they both noticed Lindsay heading towards them. Without a word being exchanged, Jon pulled Lindsay into his embrace and danced back across the floor making the bride giggle at him.
The day turned into night and by eleven o’clock the bride and groom had left and Steph thought that she should go too. Although she was perfectly sober she was tired and at the same time she didn’t want the day to end because she was unlikely to see Jon again and that saddened her, even if she kept telling herself it was for the best.
She had just caught up with The Walters family and kissed them all goodbye and was at reception asking them to call her a cab when Jon appeared behind her.
“Are you running out on me?” he asked seriously.
She laughed. “Hardly, but I don’t fancy being a fling or a one-night-stand, so I am going home in case I do something slutty.”
“Let me take you home at least.”
She shook her head firmly and as the receptionist disappeared he took her hand to pull her through a doorway that she realised led to an office.
“What are you doing?” she asked warily.
“What do you want me to do?” He moved closer to her, making her resolve to leave, to leave him weaken considerably.
“Nothing.”
“You are lying, Stephanie,” he accused. “You want this as much as I do.” He moved even closer until he was backing her against the wall, like in the lift.
She was almost panting now as his lips lowered towards her where he briefly teased her with them again, but then with his gently pressed against hers she responded to him immediately and as his arm wrapped tightly around her waist he pulled her towards him while he withdrew his lips and smiled.
“You want this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she replied, trying, but failing to reach his lips with hers.
“I want to strip you bare and spread your legs and touch you everywhere,” he said as his hand suddenly found its way beneath her dress and made its way up her bare legs, then between her thighs, making her moan as he reached her warm, damp core. “Oh God, you really do want this, don’t you?” he asked as breathlessly as her now.
“Yes,” she panted.
“Then let me take you home.”
She was ready to give into him completely, regardless of his marital status and her own feelings on infidelity when the door burst open revealing the receptionist. The other woman looked almost as embarrassed as Steph felt . . . that wasn’t true. Steph felt ashamed to have been caught in this compromising position and felt sure it was obvious that this man was not hers. The intrusion brought her back to the real world, the one where Jon was married, causing her to free herself of him.
“Sorry,” she said to the receptionist. Then she turned to Jon. “Thank you for today and I will probably see you at the christening in about a years’ time knowing Lindsay.”
“Stephanie,” he called to her.
“Give my regards to your wife,” she called back thinking that the words would convey her sentiment.
She wouldn’t be a fling or a one-night-stand. She would not become the person he had first perceived her to be. When she had told him that she wasn’t that person, she meant it, so she needed to keep her resolve and not become some kind of easy option rather than a choice, not for him because she had a very strong feeling it would never be enough. She needed to get shagged somehow, but not like that with him. If he had been free, single, she knew that by now she would be halfway home for an undoubtedly memorable night, but he wasn’t free and she was heading home in a cab, alone.