had a thing about hands. And his were…perfect. Wide palms, long fingers, blunt nails, all capable and strong as they gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel. They’d be just as strong and capable gripping her hips. She tried not to squirm, tried not to imagine. But perhaps, just maybe, her priorities needed readjusting a tiny bit.
The man just kidnapped you from your own bed for chrissakes!
She jerked her gaze back to the passenger window. She had no right fantasizing about this guy. So what if he thought she was someone else? Breaking and entering, kidnapping…all those things were still against the law. And just because Kate was sniffling, well, she shouldn’t have set Viv up to begin with! Christy should be furious, not fantasizing!
The headache she’d almost medicated away earlier crawled back inside her head with renewed force. She needed to be in bed and there was a perfectly good one not fifty yards away. So what in the hell was she doing letting this guy drag her to an event she hadn’t even been invited to?
She turned to face Mr. Gorgeous Neanderthal Man and tell him just that, but just as abruptly decided against it. Oh, no, there was a much better way for him to learn of his giant faux pas. Swallowing a smile, she leaned back in the plush leather seat, deciding to just enjoy the short ride to the chapel. He’d learn soon enough that he’d plundered the wrong bed. Or the wrong woman anyway. She let her eyes drift shut as she imagined the humiliation payback that was going to be his when they pulled up in front of the chapel and— “Oh my God!” Her eyes flew open.
He hit the brakes. “What?”
“I’m not wearing anything!” Which she already knew. What she hadn’t factored in was that they were heading to a church where everyone else would find out she was only wearing her underwear.
He scowled and resumed his race to the church. “If you’d been here with everyone else, you wouldn’t have this problem.”
Christy didn’t waste breath explaining the mix-up to him. Being a nurse, she’d worked with her share of arrogant men in her life. The man next to her was the military equivalent. He’d already assessed the situation, made his diagnosis—and nothing this lowly nurse had to say was going to change his decided method of treatment.
So she attacked the one part of the problem that dealt directly with her own well-being. “You are not depositing me on a street corner in my underwear. Nor will you be hauling me into a church in front of anyone in my underwear.”
“Then I suggest you haul your fanny over the seat and start getting dressed.” He didn’t even look at her. Or her fanny.
Not that she wanted him to, of course.
“Better get a move on. We’ll be there in three minutes.”
She had to curl her fingers against the very real urge to smack his chiseled, too-damn-good-looking profile. You’re a nurse. You heal, not hurt. At that particular moment, she really wanted to make an exception to that rule.
However, as she was faced with an extremely embarrassing situation, she didn’t waste any more time. She scrambled over the seat, swallowing her mortification as various parts of her body brushed far too close to various parts of his body, namely his face. All he had to do was turn his head and—
She made an ungraceful dive for the back seat, landing in a most unladylike sprawl. Not that he’d noticed any of it. Or any of her. Coldhearted bastard. She’d certainly noticed. Her pulse was pounding and not entirely in frustration. She gave in to the impulse to stick her tongue out at the back of his head, then looked with great trepidation at the melon-colored, sequin-and-chiffon creation that awaited her. Dear God, she thought. What on earth had Viv’s friend been thinking? It looked for all the world like an overpriced Las Vegas fruit salad.
But it was either dress like a glazed melon ball or face Kate, the assembled wedding party and every rubbernecker on the road in front of the church in her underwear.
Someday you’ll laugh about all this, she told herself, tearing the plastic bag off the dress. But as she squeezed her curvy size-twelve body into Viv’s narrow, size-ten dress, she had an increasingly hard time believing anything about this day would ever remotely amuse her.
2
TREVOR GRIPPED the steering wheel as if his life depended on it, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road and not the mirrored reflection of what was taking place in the back seat of his rental sedan.
Dear Lord, but that woman had curves on top of curves. He felt sweat bead up on his forehead and knew it had nothing to do with the summer humidity. What had he been thinking making her climb over that seat? She’d all but smothered his ear with…with body parts that hadn’t been rubbed against his ear in…well, maybe never. Not that he wasn’t an adventurous lover, or willing to be, but—Jesus, his ear felt like it was on fire. Good damn thing she hadn’t brushed up against anything else.
He still remembered the silky smooth feel of her legs under his hands. Of course, he’d been busy trying to ignore the combustible reaction she’d set off inside him when he’d pulled her half-naked, very warm and pliable body out of that bed. She’d draped herself over him like a warm blanket. Okay, so she’d been unconscious, but his body didn’t care about that!
Damn Kate and her stupid reunion scheme. He made the last turn and glanced in the rearview mirror as the church loomed into view. He was lucky he didn’t put the car in a ditch. Did she have any idea what she looked like in that dress? It fit like a second skin, and there was cleavage…everywhere.
This was a wedding, not Hugh Hefner’s latest bunny roundup. Had Kate really okayed that getup? Weren’t all eyes supposed to be on the bride? Because with all that exposed flesh in the front and her well-rounded backside being showcased just as outrageously, no warm-blooded male in his right mind was going to be looking anywhere else for the duration of the ceremony. Her shoulder-length hair was a wild swirl of brunette curls that would be a rat’s nest on any other woman, but coupled with those pouty lips and heavy-lidded, dark chocolate eyes…and that dress, she looked like sex incarnate.
Why in the hell would Kate allow herself to be upstaged like this? Or had she okayed the dress in hopes her pal would use hormone overload to win her ex-husband back? Of course, at the moment Trevor thought the man had been insane to let her get away in the first place.
“I just want you to know you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it,” she said, eyes flashing, smile a tad smug.
Okay, so maybe this Eric had been wiser than he gave him credit for. Vivian conjured all kinds of slinky, feline comparisons…including the sharp claws and teeth.
“Don’t pull any fast ones,” he warned, not that she could in that dress. He wasn’t sure how she was going to walk in it, much less run away.
He pulled up right in front of the church, parking behind the limo with Just Married painted on the rear window. The bridesmaids were probably already lined up, so she could just slip into the front and no one would know she was making a forced appearance. Kate could take it from there and he’d thankfully head to his place at the head of the chapel next to his buddy. He said a silent prayer for the pile of trouble Mike was about to marry. And a silent apology to Eric, as well. He’d never met the man, but he didn’t relish the reunion he was in for.
He patted his pocket as he unbuckled and got out, breathing a sigh of relief. Ring box was still
