Without a Hitch(18)

“Yes, Lochlan.” Now I know she’s taunting me. “And I expect you to be on your best behavior. I am only a temp, remember?”

A temp who has been with me for eighteen months and through twelve assistants-in-training, but yes, still a temp.

“I’ll raise your salary.” This is a game we’ve played more times than I can count.

“I’m sixty-two years old, Mr. Blaine. I will not work forever, so I suggest you make an effort with Brittney. Her resume is impeccable, and she’s very motivated.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m walking into the ballroom. I’ll check in as soon as it’s done.”

“Put a smile on your face and your phone in your pocket,” she orders. It makes me chuckle. No one speaks to me the way she does and keeps their job. Angie is different, and she never hesitates to tell me what to do.

“Smile, pasted in place. Phone? Never. Good-bye, Miss Angie.”

She huffs, then clicks her tongue like she wants to scold me. I pause just outside the door to see if she will. A genuine smile worms its way onto my face as she says, “Good-bye, Mr. Blaine.”

Disconnecting the call, I palm my phone and enter the god-awful ballroom. This is exactly why I don’t allow weddings at my properties.

That and the small detail of the event coordinator trying to ruin me.

“Bride or groom?” someone vaguely familiar asks the second I step inside, but I don’t pay him any more attention.

“Groom.”

“Right this way.” He points to the right side of the aisle and intends to lead me toward the front.

“This is fine, thank you.” Without waiting for his reply, I slip into an aisle near the back.

Am I bloody early? The rows are filling up quickly, but they’re not nearly as full as I’d hoped.

With a shake of my head, I bring my phone to life and respond to as many emails as possible before the music starts.

I get glimpses of navy in my periphery as it drifts past me, but I continue with my email. The faint scent of citrus triggers a distant memory and has my thumbs halting, but it’s when I hear her that I pause altogether.

“Move your ass,” the woman to my left hisses under her breath, and that voice glides over my skin like butterfly kisses. If she wasn’t standing directly beside me, I would have missed her words completely. My gaze jumps to her, and the hand holding my phone drops into my lap. An uncomfortable pinch hits my chest. I can’t take my eyes off her.

“Nerves.” She shrugs to no one in particular. “Gets the best of us sometimes.”

I watch her closely as she hooks arms with the troublemaker beside her. Something in her tone tells me they’ve tasked her with babysitting the scowling bridesmaid to her left, and it makes me irrationally invested.

I’m intrigued. I shift in my seat as my anatomy attempts a resurrection. Since the last disaster I let into my bed, he's been on lockdown.

My gaze follows her ass as she strolls down the aisle, and my cock twitches against my zipper again. Well, I guess the little fucker isn’t dead after all. It’s not that I don’t get turned on by beautiful women, but I’ve found them to be more trouble than they’re worth lately, so I’ve resorted to my fist most nights.

Fiery. Dazzling. Goddess. All three words could describe this woman, and yet they don’t encapsulate her. I have an uncomfortable feeling that she could harness the sun and bring me to my knees in one fell swoop.

Where in the bloody hell did those thoughts come from? Harness the sun? That’s dangerously close to fairy tale territory, so I adjust my thinking to something more realistic.

She’ll be a good, quick fuck.

Or she could bring you to your knees.

She probably sounds like the annoying girlfriend on Friends .

I shiver, remembering the mind-numbing sound Nova used to laugh at while binge-watching the series when she was a teenager.

Maybe she has genital warts.

My head snaps up to scan her again. No, my Pepper does not have genital warts, and even thinking about genital warts does nothing to tamp down the sorcery this woman has done on my cock without even touching me.

Her gaze darts around the room like she’s searching for someone. Who are you looking for, Pepper? My phone buzzes in my hand, but I ignore it. I stare intently as she does a sweep of the room with her eyes, and another before her posture relaxes.

Then, in slow motion, her chocolate brown eyes land on mine, freezing me in place. I’m breathless as she quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t glance away. Time stands still. The connection I feel with this woman makes my palms sweat. The insane need to know her has me tugging on my vest uncomfortably.

She stands perfectly still at the altar, and I feel a sudden loss when she finally averts her gaze to deal with the woman beside her. I grin maniacally as her lips start to move. I learned to read lips when my sister was a sulky teen, and I watch with interest as she sets her flowers down, grabs the troublemaker’s arm, and tells her, “Don’t even think about fainting.”

The music changes, and everyone around me turns to watch the bride walk down the aisle, but my gaze never strays from the dazzling sprite before me. I’m the last to sit once the bride's father hands her off to Tyler, and I only remember to sit when Pepper flashes a sexy, questioning smirk my way.

Pepper? Yeah, she’s Pepper all right. Spicy, sassy, and sexy as hell. If I were a different man, she would certainly ruin me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t let her ruin me for the night.