“Come?” Kady squeaked, her face going pale. “Obviously he’s kidding.” She looked up at Colt. “Right?”
“No,” Tyler said innocently, crossing his arms. “Why would I be kidding about something like that? Someone has to keep you two under control.”
Kady’s eyes widened. “Yeah. Sorry. You’re not coming on our honeymoon.”
Colt nodded. “I’m in full agreement with my soon-to-be wife.”
“I know. I’m just teasing, of course.” He forced a shudder and threw in a dramatic gag for Kady’s enjoyment. “I have no intention of joining you on that trip.”
She giggled. “Good.”
“You got that right,” Colt said, grinning. “I love you and all, man, but there’s no way in hell you’re coming on my honeymoon.”
Kady tucked her hair behind her ear and looked over her shoulder. “Did you say hi to Mom and Dad yet? They snuck into my bachelorette party, and are over in the left corner with Aunt Meredith, waving at me wildly. I think they’re telling us to come over.”
“I haven’t had the chance.”
His gaze sought out Christine again. She made her way to the door, but stopped to talk to a short woman Tyler didn’t recognize. Christine’s gaze collided with his before skittering away. Her cheeks flushed red, and she clung to her purse so tight it became a mangled mess in her hands.
“Ugh. Come on.” Kady held her finger up to their parents. “We’ll go say hello to them, then I’ll see if I can round up the girls and the rest of the groomsmen for some real fun.”
He started to follow her, but stopped. He hesitated, shifting on his feet. “Um…give me a second. I’ll catch up in a few.”
“You can’t send me in there alone.”
He backed up a tiny step, his eyes on the door. “I just need a second, okay?”
She shot him a look, but he turned on his heel and followed Christine out the door as inconspicuously as he could manage. He crossed the room quickly, not wanting her to hit the elevator before he had a chance to catch up.
After shoving through the doors, he came to an abrupt halt.
Chapter Four
Tyler stood there, his breath coming unevenly and his heart leaping at the sight of her. She leaned back against the wall, her eyes on her phone. She casually swiped her finger over the screen, clearly not concerned enough to look up and see who had followed her outside. Or maybe she already knew?
Her wavy red hair tumbled down her shoulders¸ falling halfway down her back, and she continued silently chanting something. His fingers itched with the need to bury themselves inside her waves. To find out if her hair felt as good as he remembered.
It couldn’t be. No one had hair that damned soft.
She wore a black dress that fell above the knee, and a pair of red heels that belonged over a man’s head, not on the ground. No. Scratch that. Not any man’s head.
His head.
When she bit down on her plump pink lip, a fist of desire clenched in his gut, squeezing tight. Shit. Forcing himself to stop checking her out like a starved man looking at a steak dinner, he cleared his throat. Christine startled and her eyes focused, zeroing in on him within seconds.
She fisted her hands and her gaze dipped low. He forced himself to stand still and let her look her fill, just as he had with her. And, fuck, did she look.
Her gaze skimmed over him, seemingly taking in every detail. When she bit down harder on her lip, her cheeks becoming suffused with a charming blush, his stomach tightened in response. She met his eyes again; he forced himself to smile in what he hoped was a casual manner and didn’t come across as I must have you.
“Hey, Red.”
She stiffened, returning her attention to her damn phone. “It’s Christine.”
“Not to me.” He shrugged. She’d liked his nickname for her in Mexico, but she didn’t anymore? Oh well. He liked it, so he’d use it. He’d called her Red for the obvious reason—her hair—but also because of her fiery spirit and the way she blushed whenever he’d come too close to her. Just like she was doing now. “To me, you’ll always be Red.”
“Oh, how cute.” She cocked her head and offered him a fake smile. Oh, she didn’t mean for it look that way, but he knew when someone was faking it. As an ER doctor he dealt with liars daily. He knew when someone was bullshitting him. “But you lost the right to have any cute little names for me when you left me that night.”
And there they were, at the heart of their issue. Had he expected any less? Her straight talking is what made her such a damn good investigative journalist. She wouldn’t waste any time getting to the good stuff. “Yeah. I’m sorry I did that.”
“I got that message when you ran away from me mumbling ‘Oh my God’ over and over again,” she drawled, slipping her phone into her small purse. “But thanks for the late apology.”
He flinched. “That was the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done, I’ll admit it. But I went down there to protect you girls, not to fuck one of you.”
She crossed her arms and gave him an appraising look. “Looks like I won the unexpected prize package then, huh?”
“No.” He eyed her. He could read her like a book. She intimidated people by being on the offensive, making them back down. It wouldn’t work with him. “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”
“Not really. I do know, though, that when you’re about to come, you close your eyes and your fingers tighten on my hair before you tug—”
“Jesus.” His stomach clenched and he took a step toward her, but pulled himself short. “How the hell do you remember that shit?”
“I have a good memory.” She crossed her arms and grinned. “Once I see or feel something, I never forget.”
“Maybe you need to,” Tyler said, thinking of her photographic memory of him running away like a scared fucking pansy in Mexico. “Some things aren’t worth remembering.”
Her smile slipped a little, but she forced it back into place. What game was she playing? “I remember it all, you know. Do you?”
Did she remember all of those details? It had been eight years. Sure, he remembered them, too, but that was different. He’d been older and completely sober. “Weren’t you too drunk to remember your name, let alone what we did?”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he wanted to take them back. He felt like an ass for having sex with her when she was under the influence in the first place. The last thing he needed was to remind her he’d done it. Stupid asshole.
She laughed, tossing her head back. “Actually, I wasn’t drunk at all.”
“You had three drinks.” He looked her up and down. “At your age and your size, you would have been at an approximately 0.28 percent blood alcohol concentration, which is way beyond drunk. I was a jerk for taking advantage of you, and I’m sorry.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and averted her eyes. “That’s an awfully detailed calculation. Thought about it much over the years?”
“You could say that.” He clenched his jaw. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”
“Well, save your apologies for someone else.” She lifted a shoulder. “You had three drinks. I was too distracted watching you to drink, so there’s no guilt needed. I didn’t even drink that night.”
How had he missed her not finishing her drinks? Maybe he’d just been that taken in by her. She was more fun to watch than a fucking cup. “Oh.”
“I had sex with you because I wanted to. Because you made me feel good. Not because I was drunk and out of my head.” She cocked her head. “Can you say the same? Why did you do it?”
Heat swept through him, taking away some of the guilt that had been his companion for way too long. She’d been fully sober and still fucked him? Well, that changed a few things. It meant she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her.
Also, he couldn’t believe how much she’d grown up. Last time he’d been this close to her, she’d needed him. Needed his help. She didn’t need him anymore…
But he might just need her.
He watched her, his fingers flexing. “You’ve changed. You’re bolder.”
Surprisingly, he found this version of Christine even hotter.
She raised her brows. “So have you, but I bet you’re still that same boy who runs away after sex—just all grown up.”
“I’ve outgrown that particular habit,” he said drily. “But I don’t take virgins to my bed anymore.”
“That might be so.” She stepped closer, uncrossing her arms. “But I bet you still leave afterward, even if it is for a different reason. Perhaps to avoid commitment? I’ve heard you’re not big on the whole long-term relationship stuff.”