“You aren’t part of the wedding party,” she commented, and moved forward to set the next gift by a place setting.
Bobby let the door shut behind him. His blond hair was longer than she remembered, his blue eyes glistening with sensuality. “Mark made me an honorary best man for keeping everyone out of jail. It seemed to leave a lasting impression.”
Oh, now, that made her mad. She turned away from him and started putting out the rest of her gifts. She was out of time anyway.
He laughed. “No comment?”
She cut him a look. “No,” she said lightly. “No comment.”
“You aren’t going to ask where I’ve been?”
Mad again. Oh, so mad. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Not yet. “No, I am not. In fact…”
Jennifer set the last gift in its place, and picked up her name card that was next to Bobby’s—no doubt, by Marcie’s doing. She then walked to the other side of the table, snagged someone else’s name card, and replaced it with hers. Jennifer returned to the seat beside Bobby’s and set the new place card down. “There. Now we don’t have to make conversation at all.”
The doors behind him burst open as a slew of guests overwhelmed the room. Bobby faded into the crowd, and she wished he would fade from her awareness. No matter who she mingled with, no matter what she did, Jennifer could feel Bobby close, feel him watching her, feel him as if he were touching her.
Soon, they were all seated and chatting, and Bobby sat, much to her chargin, directly across from her. How—how—had he managed that little trick?
Every cell of her body felt Bobby’s presence. Even her wine tasted of him, sin and satisfaction. She sipped it, allowing the waiter to take her salad plate when her gaze caught on the waitress across the table leaning in close to Bobby. Flirting. He laughed at something she said, and Jennifer felt her nerves prickle and turn to fire.
Abruptly, Bobby’s gaze lifted and caught on Jennifer’s, his eyes narrowing far too intuitively, as if he sensed the edge crackling off her. Her hand tightened on her wineglass in an effort to keep it steady as she lowered it to the table with slow care. She would not be jealous. She was not jealous.
The waitress leaned down and said something else to Bobby, and Jennifer pushed to her feet, and headed toward the hallway. A fast detour to her right, and she was down the stairwell leading to the private, single-stall restroom she’d found earlier that night. She shoved open the door and pushed inside, but the temporary relief of privacy faded as Bobby tugged her back into the hallway. Jennifer was caught between his big body and the door.
***
THANKFUL FOR THE STAIRWELL that offered privacy, Bobby’s hands settled on Jennifer’s waist. Did she really think he’d let her run away? Of course, she didn’t know he’d spent the past few days working on a plan to ensure she knew he was here to stay. But she would. Soon.
“What do you think you are doing?” she asked, her voice low, full of demand.
“You were jealous,” he accused.
“I was not jealous!” she insisted.
“I went to high school with that waitress, Jen,” he said, noting the flush on Jennifer’s cheeks. The fullness of her kissable bottom lip quivered ever-so-slightly. “There was no flirting. Just reminiscing.”
“Oh, there was flirting,” she said, and looked instantly as if she regretted the statement, her fingers curling into her palms.
He arched a brow. “So you were jealous?”
“No!”
His lips twitched. “I wasn’t flirting,” he promised. “Except with you.”
She pressed her hand to his chest. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“Well, I need you to hear it,” he countered. “I need you to know there is no other woman that matters and I won’t let you create one to run away from me.” He lowered his voice. “From us.” He leaned closer, inhaling her scent. “You owe me a night. You promised.”
She drew back, her hand falling from his chest and almost returning before she caught herself. “You can’t be serious.”
“I couldn’t be more serious,” he said, molding her closer, and bringing her hand back to his chest in the process. Warmth seeped through his skin, scorching him.
“I did not,” she said. “You don’t get to decide when we see each other, and when we don’t. You don’t come and go as you please. I told you. I’m done.”
Footsteps sounded and then, “Jennifer?” Marcie stopped dead halfway down the stairs. “Whoops. Didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just worried about you two.”
Jennifer glared at Bobby. “Let me go.”
Bobby stared down at her, trying to decide if he really wanted to do that.
Marcie cleared her throat. “Ah…no rush. I’ll just head back to the table.”
“I’m coming with you,” Jennifer said quickly.
Bobby pressed his forehead to hers, and spoke in a low voice. “Marcie needs you tonight,” he said. “But I need you, too.” He stepped back, but not without claiming her hand again. “I’m going to show you how much, Jen. Tomorrow, after the wedding. I promise.”