Do You Take This Man (43)

“Yes. Ten.” I kept reminding myself that Penny wanted this contact for future business, but I glanced back at RJ, whose fingers gently tapped at her face where he’d hit her. “And what were you doing up there? She asked you to stay back.”

“It was a good shot. I took it.” He gave a passing glance behind me. “She’ll get over it.”

“Jesus, man. Can you show her a little respect? She asked you to stay off the altar.”

“Listen, man,” he said, stepping forward. He was a few inches shorter than me and a thin guy, but his step was clearly meant to intimidate. “You know they’re paying me a lot more than they are her, so I’m going to do what I want. You’re the event planner. Figure out a way to appease her.” He looked behind me again, a smirk crossing his face and his tone lightening. “She needs to relax. Friend, I’d do it myself, but I don’t have time to get her drunk enough.”

Well, Penny’s gonna be pissed. I stepped forward, using my size to force him backward. “Listen, motherfucker, they are paying you a lot and you’ll take great photos, but if you ever make a joke like that in my presence or deign to disrespect a woman in front of me like you did tonight, you’ll be developing those photos from the ER, understood?”

Our voices were low in the alcove. “You’re threatening me?”

I took a step back, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m a professional. Just making sure you have all the information you need for tomorrow, friend.”

“Of all the amateurish . . .” He took another step back and pushed open the door. “Have a good night, asshole. Good luck booking me for anything again.”

Shit, shit, shit. I turned slowly, taking in a deep breath and composing the necessary email to Penny in my mind. Most of the wedding party had left for dinner, a barbecue at the groom’s parents’ house, which was perfect because they didn’t need me there. After confirming a few details, I waved the last of them away and looked for RJ.





Chapter 23


    RJ



I WAS RUNNING out of excuses to hang around after wedding events to “casually” run into Lear, but tending to a facial injury was a new one. I brushed my finger over the scraped and tender spot on my jaw where the jerk’s camera lens had made contact. It was minor and had only bled for a moment, but I was pissed. I dropped my hand and took in my face in the bathroom mirror. Severe. That was the face I tried to convey, and it’s what I thought I’d made clear to the photographer. Of course, I’d made it clear to Lear, too, and look how that ended up. I inhaled slowly and tried to relax the line between my eyebrows. It wasn’t like it was the first time I’d had to deal with cocky assholes in my line of work. The guy had reminded me of Case, though. When I told him I wanted more affection between us, for us to take time to really build our relationship, he was dismissive. When I called him on it, he acted like I was at fault for changing the rules. Maybe I had. That’s why the thing with Lear was better. The rules were clear and neither of us was interested in changing them.

Resting my palms on the sink, I inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. Let it go. I’d been looking forward to the rehearsal all day. More accurately, I’d been looking forward to afterward all day. “I’ll feel better after I get off,” I said into the empty restroom, ignoring the niggling thought that I’d feel better once I was with Lear. My quiet voice echoed around me. I’d spotted Lear and the photographer near the exit as we finished up. They’d been almost toe-to-toe, Lear looming several inches taller. My heart had fluttered when I saw that, wondering, maybe hoping . . . was that about me? I rolled my eyes at my reflection in the mirror. “Ridiculous.” Pushing off the counter, I stepped into the hallway.

“Hey,” he greeted me from where he stood leaning against the doorway into the hall where the ceremony rehearsal had taken place.

I walked toward him, admiring the lines of his long body, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. “Hey.”

He glanced at my jaw, then scanned my body shamelessly. “I was hoping you’d stick around.”

His eyes flicked down again, following the lines of my suit. I flushed. It was a nice suit, but I’d bought it for court, for a space where I needed to be sharklike, severe RJ, and I had a moment of regret that that was all Lear would ever see in me. I shook away the thought. “You’re a fan of my suit?”

A slow grin spread across his face, but he didn’t move from his spot along the door frame. Lear shrugged one shoulder. “It’s alright.”

“No smart comment about getting me out of it?” I stepped closer, leaning against the opposite door frame and matching his pose.

He dragged his thumb over his chin, his voice low. “Do you want me to get you out of it?”

“Obviously.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But I expect some wit from you. A little tête-à-tête.”

He pushed off the wall, reaching me in two steps, his eyes following his finger down the buttons on my blouse, grazing each with the back of his middle finger. “Something like, I’d prefer it in a pile on the floor?” He finished the question with his finger resting on the waistline of my pants.

My breath hitched as he played with the closure before meeting my eyes again. “Something like that.”