me that.”
“Maggie doesn’t really suit you. It’s a good name for a dog, perhaps—”
“You really love to hear the sound of your own voice, don’t you? The ringtone on your phone is probably just you saying your own name.” Oh, she liked that. That was a good snap.
“You almost make me wish I were spending more time in Cuervo,” he said.
“Why?” she replied. “So you could try to get my clothes off, too?”
Jake gazed down at her with his glacier-blue eyes, 007 tux and intoxicating maleness. “I have a feeling there’s a lot there to see,” he said.
It didn’t sound like he was being in the least sarcastic, and her body betrayed her by responding to the rough hot caress of his voice.
“I have things to do.” Maggie brushed past him, glad to have the last word, glad to be heading toward the door.
He caught her by the arm. She felt the sensation of contact sizzle through her. The smirk on his face was replaced by something more serious.
“Save me a dance.”
* * * *
So far, it had been one hell of a day.
Jake Sutton sat on the back porch and smoked another cigarette, his fourth and way more than his daily allotment. Vices, if you didn’t manage them, managed you.
He let the silky texture of the smoke glide over his tongue as he gazed at the rolling hills of Mason’s ranch. Maybe there was something to the idea that Texas bred a special kind of woman. He thought of the actress he’d snuck into the laundry room. Then he thought of Maggie Roby.
No comparison.
Maggie heated his blood. The actress merely heated his imagination.
Jake reckoned he knew a real woman when he saw one. They were a lot more complicated than the artificial variety. But then complications, in life or in business, were nothing more than an opportunity to figure things out.
He liked figuring things out.
The ranch sat on more than a hundred acres. From the veranda, he could see the fenced-off pastureland in full bloom. Bluebonnets carpeted an open field on the south side, thinning out around a grove of huisache trees. Even the trees were covered in April flowers, orange pom-pom-looking things they didn’t have up in Dallas. Of course, it was kind of hard to tell when you were on the phone all day inside a glass tower in the middle of downtown.
Jake patted his tux jacket to make sure his phone was still there. He wanted to check his messages, but had promised Mason no phone calls, no texting, and no losing the ring. He patted his other pocket. Yep, the ring was still there, safe and sound. See? He totally had this.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
Jake looked up and saw Mason step outside on the porch. Mason paused to take a deep breath of sunshine and ranch life, or so it seemed. He turned toward Jake with a grin.
“Are you trying to avoid anyone in particular or are you just out here being your usual dick self?” Mason said.
“Probably both,” Jake admitted.
“Aren’t you supposed to be inside best-manning or something?” Mason sat in the white wicker rocker next to him. The chair was too small for his big frame, which forced Mason to stretch out his tuxedoed legs. “I just stopped security from shooting down a drone over the pavilion.”
Jake flicked the ash off his cigarette. “Being famous…it ain’t for pussies, is it?”
“Well, you can’t blame the poor bastards for trying.”
Jake studied Mason out of the corner of his eye. He looked happy and—Jake struggled to place it—sure of his place in the world. “You’re not even nervous, are you?”
“Nope. When you know, you know. Cassidy is my best friend. She’s my everything.”
“I almost envy you,” Jake said. “I haven’t met that woman yet.”
Mason scooped a handful of pebbles out of the planter next to him and pitched them one by one into the tall grass. “Where’s your date for the wedding?”
“Not talking to me. So I offered to send her back to Dallas and she accepted.”
Mason shook his head. “See, I don’t get that.”
“Get what?”
“Why you go out of your way to piss people off.”
Jake crushed his cigarette stub into something pink and shell-like that he hoped was an ashtray. There was no point in denying that he was an asshole. Especially since Mason had known him since their University of Texas days when they were fraternity brothers.
“What can I say?” Jake said. “I have exceptional people skills.”
He actually regretted the way he’d handled the argument with Tara, even if her endless self-absorption had bored him out of his mind. She’d asked where their relationship was going and he’d been stupid enough to tell her.
Hey, the mistake was his. He knew the rules: never bring a date to a wedding.
“So what do you know about Maggie?” Jake asked, happy to move onto a more exciting topic. “She’s a real spitfire, isn’t she?”
“Maggie?” Mason echoed. “Oh, no. She’s off the menu.”
“But I like that menu,” Jake said, remembering the way she stood there, quivering with lust and indignation. “I’m pretty sure the chef’s specials are on that menu.”
“She’s Cassidy’s sister, Jake. And you’re my best friend from college. If you do to Maggie what you do to most women you date, I’ll never be able to invite the two of you to the same party again.” Mason aimed, fired and nailed the fencepost. “Besides, Maggie wants kids. Do you want kids?”
“About as much as I want leprosy.”
“Exactly. So leave her alone.”
Jake started calculating probable odds of that ever happening. He was not a man who brooked interference or suffered fools or backed down when somebody told him to. Maybe Maggie was the kind of woman who was looking to feather a nest. That didn’t mean she wasn’t up for something a little more…diversionary, did it?
He found himself welcoming that prospect with a keenness he hadn’t felt in a while.
“Now might be a good time to give you something.” Jake reached inside his jacket and produced an envelope, which he handed to Mason.
“What’s this?” Mason asked.
“Best man stuff.”
Mason opened the envelope and peered inside. “What am I looking at here?”
“Two
