Chapter 5
LAYNE
This can't be happening.
My grouchy boss who had been behaving like a robot for the first month I was working for him has turned into an unbelievably attentive date.
I'm delighted, but it's kind of weird. Not to mention that my knees are still trembling from that incredible kiss as we navigate the buffet and make endless chitchat with people we’re pretending to vaguely remember.
Finally, we run into the bride-to-be near the dessert table.
Here goes nothing.
I shake her hand warmly. "Congratulations, Angela. You picked a stunning hotel for this weekend."
She smiles with a slightly desperate look in her eyes, as if mentally scanning her list of contacts to figure out who the heck I am.
I laugh lightly for a second, then lean in to whisper. “I'm married to Mack." My head tilts toward him as he shakes her fiancé Steven’s hand.
"Mack used to be married to Sheena, your late aunt who passed away six years ago. He's also an old friend of your dad's."
Her eyes brighten, buying it. "So lovely of you both to come."
"Well, we weren't sure if we should, since we haven't seen everyone in so long. But then Astor and Ryland caught wind that we had been invited and insisted we accept."
Angela giggles. “You don't happen to know what color their hair is this week, do you?"
I laugh with her. "Nope, no idea."
"Steven and I have a bet on it," she whispers. "He thinks they'll go with something garish like acid green or orange. I think they're going to choose something quieter, to blend in a bit better."
"How much is the bet for?"
"Loser runs and unloads the dishwasher for a week."
I squeeze her hand. "I hope you win."
We chat about the decor and the perfect weather for a few minutes, then Mack takes my arm and leads me away to make room for the next people who want to wish the happy couple well.
Some guests are doing round two of the buffet, but Mack and I head back to our observation spot by the patio doors.
I keep looking around for these famous cousins.
I know that Astor and Ryland are on the edges of the family circle.
Maybe they're intentionally coming late so they don't have to mingle with people they don't know for too long.
Mack's hand tightens around my waist as he looks down at me. I'm definitely not imagining the way his gaze skims over my cleavage, then lower.
"I love that your dress is flowery," he murmurs quietly. "It's so sweet."
"The stylist said that summer weddings always have a floral theme."
He chuckles. "You never know. What if it had been…pirate themed?"
"Yar, then they would be tellin’ us. An’ instead o’ the hotel address on the invitation, there would've been a map wit’ a big X markin’ the spot."
I love how this man laughs. It rumbles right into my skin and through my whole body. I've never had my nipples tighten simply from a man's deep voice, or his fingers lightly caressing my side.
I'm trying to focus on the people around us, but all I can think about is when we're back in our room alone together.
I already want him. I've never felt this pure, undeniable lust for a man before.
I don't think it's because he was a mystery and now I'm getting to know him.
I don't even think it's the power trip, because he's my boss and I'm his employee.
It feels like…it's silly…like my libido was in a holding pattern, waiting for the right man to come along.
"That's them." I follow Mack’s gaze to see a young man and woman stepping tentatively through the entrance.
They're both in head to toe black, but the man – obviously Ryland – is wearing a dark rose tie to match his spiky rose hair.
Astor has a lighter pink scarf that matches her tights and her shoulder-length hair.
I grip Mack’s hand. "Artsy kids incoming. Let's go."
They don't seem the slightest bit alarmed when I hug them warmly. Then I step back, holding each of their hands. "I know that artists are always in black, but I love that you've added some pink for the weekend."
They both beam. "Auntie Layne,” Astor says, hugging me again. "You look stunning!"
I hear Mack mutter, "Yes. Yes, she does."
He shakes Ryland’s hand. "Good to see you. You and your sister are looking well."
"Thanks, Uncle Mack."
A few members of the crowd had been giving us strange looks over the past hour.
But as soon as we are spotted speaking animatedly with the nineteen-year-olds that everyone without exception refers to as "the kids", everything changes.
Now we are part of the family. Women compliment my dress when I go to the ladies room.
Men slap Mack on the shoulder and insist that he try “the good bourbon”.
Nobody is in the least bit suspicious, thank goodness.
Two of the uncles begin to get a bit loud, so Mack discreetly directs the bartender to switch them to the zero-alcohol booze. They don’t even notice.
Once the party is mostly cleared out, Mack leads me onto the patio. "We should stay to the very end, just in case," he says.
He wraps his jacket around me and we sit on a bench facing a large window to survey the room. When the last stragglers leave, Ron gives Mack a nod, and we go upstairs.
Once we’re in our room and I've kicked off my heels, Mack turns to me, tipping up my chin with his finger. "I need to watch your beautiful eyes for a moment."
"Why?" Was that a stupid question? I’m so skittish that I need direct answers.
He chuckles. "Partly because they're so gorgeous. But also… Be brutally honest. Should I sleep on the couch? Or is it okay for me to keep to the very edge of that giant bed?"
The smile on his face is at odds with the tension in his eyes. He's so serious that I can't help but burst into laughter.
"There’s plenty of room. I think I'm comfortable enough with you that it'll be fine to share."
"Good." He takes my hand and holds it over his heart. "It's extremely important to me that you're comfortable, Layne. Especially since I made you uncomfortable for so long." His eyes lock onto mine. “Again, I’m really sorry about that. I’m going to be kicking myself over it for a long time.”
I'm not sure what to say to that. We take turns using the bathroom, and luckily I’m able to slip into bed before Mack gets a good look at what I’m wearing. This nightgown looked a lot longer in the store. And I didn’t consider how it would look without a bra.
I turn off my light, so only Mack’s is on when he comes out.
I can’t help peeking, and immediately wish I hadn’t.
His physique should be a sculpture in an art gallery.
He’s shirtless, wearing only navy plaid PJ bottoms slung so low on his hips that a naughty voice in the back of my mind is wondering if he’s wearing anything underneath.
My guess is…no.
He slips into bed and fluffs his pillow. Then he takes another one and places it between us. “That’s to stop me if I happen to reach out in the night in my sleep,” he chuckles.
Mmm…that sexy, rich voice plus his naked sculpted torso and the seductive look in his dark eyes… My breath isn’t as stable as it should be.
A little voice in the back of my mind is chanting If you fool around with the boss, you’ll be fired. Don’t do it. But my body doesn’t want to listen. It’s begging me to reach out to him. I would love to sleep wrapped in those thick arms.
“You did a great job today, Layne,” he murmurs. “Very professional, even under odd circumstances.”
“Thank you. I’m trying my best.”
“I know you are.” He hesitates, then his voice gets quieter as he snaps off the light. “I just can’t stop thinking about that kiss. I can’t even blame the wine.” He chuckles ruefully. “It was the most unprofessional moment of my life, and by far the sexiest.”
Can he hear my shaky exhale in the dark?
“But don’t worry. I desperately want to kiss you goodnight, but I’m going to wait for you to come to me.”
“Um…”
“If you don’t, that’s fine too. I just want you to be happy and comfortable, okay?”
“Uh…” So much for my iron will. “You know how if food falls on the floor for less than five seconds, it doesn’t count?”
He laughs. “Yeah…?”
There’s just enough light peeking in around the curtains for me to find Mack’s lips. The second I do, he pulls me against him, holding me so tightly that the kiss steals my breath and makes me squirm. Just as I realize I’m holding back a moan, he releases me.
“Best. Five seconds. Ever,” he murmurs.
I don’t even know what to say. I roll until my back is to him, still picturing those shoulders. That jawline. Those eyes burning into mine. For another five delicious seconds, I feel his hand stroking the back of my hair, then he pulls his hand away.
“Sweet dreams, Layne.”
“Sweet dreams.”
Right. Like I’ll be sleeping tonight.