Lady Luck (Colorado Mountain #3)(18)

That was what I needed to do to get clean and free.

And that was why I curled into him, letting his hand go but moving mine to his chest and sliding it up, up, up until it curved around the side of his neck.

That neck bent and his eyes hit mine.

I went up on tiptoes but needed more inches so he was going to have to help.

“We just got married,” I whispered.

He stared into my eyes but said not a word.

“I’m carrying a wedding bouquet.”

More staring and more silence.

“Ty, he’s watching.”

He continued to stare into my eyes, silent but his hand hit my waist, gliding around in a touch so light, if it didn’t trail a burn I could have convinced myself it wasn’t there. Then he pressed me into him and bent his neck giving me the inches I needed.

Then his mouth was on mine.

And when it was, I flashed back to our wedding kiss. Something, after it was done, I promised myself I would bury. Something, with this flashback, I knew I never would.

Our wedding kiss wasn’t chaste. It wasn’t removed. It wasn’t void of emotion.

It was an arms crushing me to his body, heads slanting, mouths opened, tongues invading, toes curling, knees weakening, bones dissolving, deep, wet, hungry, carnal kiss. It seemed to last forever but that forever was not near long enough.

Just then, that memory fresh, sharp and resurfacing in a surge even though I tried to bury it, his warm, sleek skin under my hand, his lips hard on mine, my fingers tightened on his neck, my front pressed tight to his and my mouth opened of its own volition.

His tongue snaked out and touched the tip of mine.

Warmth washed through me in a flood.

The elevator dinged.

His head came up, his arm disappeared but his hand closed around mine and he dragged me into the elevator.

He tagged the button. Then his arm came back, joined by his other one, my body collided with his, his head came down, mine was already tipped back, my free hand sliding around his shoulders, my hand holding the bouquet moving around his arm, the stuff under my arm fell unheeded to the floor of the elevator and his mouth hit mine. My lips opened, giving him instant access.

He took it.

My bones dissolved and I held on tight.

The elevator doors closed.

* * * * *

I put the folder, envelope and clutch that Walker had collected from the floor of the elevator and handed to me after our kiss on the table by the window in our hotel room. Then I carefully set the bouquet on its side.

Then I turned and saw he was at the desk, flipping through the leatherette binder there. Then he picked up the phone, hit two buttons and put it to his ear.

I stood there and watched as he said into the phone, “Yeah, room six twenty-three. Bottle of Cristal, two glasses, now.” His head was dipped down and one, long finger was touching the leatherette binder as he went on, “Two bowls of clam chowder. Two prime rib dinners, one potato loaded, the other one all the shit on the side.” He flipped a page. “One cheesecake. One chocolate truffle cake with whipped cream. One panna cotta. One hot fudge sundae. And another bottle of Cristal. Deliver that in an hour. No. An hour and a half.” Pause. “Right.”

Then he hung up and looked at me.

That was when he asked, “You like prime rib?”

I burst out laughing.

When I quit laughing, he was staring at me, deadpan.

“Uh… yeah, thanks for asking,” I answered, still smiling because I couldn’t help it, he was hilarious even if he didn’t think so then I finished, “Belatedly.”

He made no response, pulled off his suit jacket while moving, tossed it on his duffle, walked to the bed and sat down.

I realized I hadn’t had anything to eat since my tuna melt. I’d sucked back two lattes while shopping because I could go without food, at a push. Caffeine, no way in hell.

And I was starved.

“An hour and a half?” I said to his back as he pulled off his boots.

“A man marries a woman like you in a dress like the one you got on, he’ll want champagne but he won’t be thinkin’ about food. Still, he’ll want her to have something special so he’ll be makin’ sure she does,” he said to his boots.

My hand went to the table to hold myself standing because it wasn’t an extravagant compliment but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a supremely effective one.

And he’d noticed the dress.

And these meant a lot to me, both of them did, the compliment and the fact he noticed my dress. I didn’t know why, they just did. And when I say it meant a lot, I mean it meant a lot.

I swallowed.

Then I forced out, “That might be so but –”

He stood and turned to me, hands going to the buttons on his shirt. “Bag of bones?”

“Yeah.”

“Good guess, he’s down the hall and watchin’.”

My gut tightened again.

“Really?”

“Really.”

That’s when I thought, oh hell with it.

So I tried, “Why?”

He stared at me as he unbuttoned his shirt. He got it totally unbuttoned. Then he walked to his duffle.

He didn’t answer.

I sighed.

Then I turned to the table and picked up my bouquet, walking behind him as he pawed through the duffle and I went to the bathroom. Then I stoppered the sink, filled it with water and set the bouquet in it wishing I had scissors so I could give the stems a fresh cut in order for them to drink hearty. I didn’t want that bouquet to die. Not yet. Not tomorrow. Not the next day. I wanted to keep it alive for as long as possible. And it wasn’t because it cost a hundred and fifty dollars. I didn’t know why it was. I just knew I did.