1
Five minutes. Marissa Clarke knew she
couldn’t have stepped away from the reception hall any longer than that. She
scanned the room, which was draped in so much white and bright pink tulle it should
be illegal. The number of wedding guests shuffling around the dance floor had
dwindled to less than twenty, making it impossible not to notice her roommate
had disappeared. All night she’d purposely kept an eye on Christa, who’d drunk too
much champagne and had an old college boyfriend hanging on her.
She’d been dutiful for the last two days, ensuring
last night’s rehearsal dinner and today’s wedding ran smoothly, if not perfect.
Maid of honor was a full-time job. So of course her one trip to the bathroom in
hours resulted in a missing Christa and the not-so-suspicious absence of her
former flame as well.
God, she hated weddings. She hadn’t been to a single
one since her own had imploded in the most mortifying way possible. Tanya was
the only person she’d brave this for. Especially since so many of the guests
tonight were their college friends who had witnessed her own catastrophe. The
entire weekend she’d been sharply aware of how many of them whispered about her,
still wondered what she had done to be so spectacularly jilted
.
Marissa sank into a chair at a nearby table and rested
her chin on her hands. She was so emotionally exhausted from feeling
scrutinized by everyone that she wanted nothing more than to go to her room,
close the door, and let it all go. But she knew exactly what she’d fine if she
went upstairs now. The world’s rudest roommate and her dolt of an ex getting it
on, in her room. She couldn’t decide whether to
go break it up or let it play out. But then, if she let them have at it she’d
have to sleep in a room—and a bed—that smelled like sex. She shuddered at the
thought.
She should have said no when Christa begged to room
with her. After all, she’d booked a single room at the swish central Oregon
resort on purpose. But she’d agreed out of kindness, the way she always did. “No”
was in her vocabulary, but it didn’t get used very often. Especially when it
came to her friends.
Tanya had wanted their entire sorority pledge class at
her wedding. They’d spent hours hunting down addresses to invite everyone for
the mini-reunion. So when flighty Christa RSVP’d at the last minute and there’d
been no room at the inn, Marissa had offered to share hers so her best friend
could have her wedding-day wish.
She was good at taking care of things. Making a list
and checking it thrice, that’s what made her an excellent event coordinator,
and apparently a good friend for free-spirited artists to have. Though stealing
away to her room for sex was so far out of bounds she could hardly believe it.
Maybe Jerry had only dragged Christa to the men’s room
for a quickie. In college Christa had called him the two-pump chump, so unless
his prowess had improved in the last few years, they could reappear any minute
now.
“Do you know where they went?” Scott Zimmermann’s deep
baritone sounded behind her. His voice had always seemed so sexy, even when she
had no business thinking of him that way.
“They gave you the slip too? We should have
coordinated a babysitting schedule.” She turned in her chair and smiled, the
sight of him hitting her with a familiar jolt of attraction. He still had a boy-next-door-meets-action-hero
kind of thing going on. Always up to something and as easy on the eyes as he
was to talk to. She’d witnessed too many women get lost in his mossy green eyes
and thick eyelashes. Plenty had baited their hook, but none ever caught him.
Scott sank into the chair beside her and shook his
head. “I’ve wanted to go home ever since Matt and Tanya left. I should have
dragged Jerry out of here by the ear.”
She nodded, wishing she had her own place to escape to.
But Portland was hours away, and she had a post-wedding brunch to attend tomorrow
before her maid of honor duties were done. “I should have put Christa in a
chastity belt before the wedding,” she muttered. “She practically swooned when
she spotted Jerry.” She cut a glance to Scott. “Don’t tell me, he forgot to
book a room and that’s how you got saddled with him.”
Oh, that smile should be outlawed. “I take it that’s
how you got Christa?”
“Guilty. And there’s only a king-sized bed in the
room.” Her shudder was not at all exaggerated. She let him connect the dots.
His cringe said he followed it with no problem.
“Should we dance while we’re waiting for their walk of
shame?” It was hard to miss his hopeful look. He’d asked last night after the
rehearsal dinner and twice today, but she’d been too focused on ironing out wedding
details the resort coordinator was not trained to handle. She’d much rather
organize an event than make idle conversation with people she didn’t know
anymore. If she ever did.
“I’m too spent to do anything but sleep. I need the
energy to do it all again tomorrow.” Marissa checked the bangle watch on her
wrist and sighed. “I’d hoped they were doing the deed in the bathroom. But now
I’m sure they’re in our room. No, my room. I’m
going to have to evict him and bother housekeeping for fresh sheets.”
“I’ll go with you.” He stood so tall and solid, his
athletic body gift wrapped in a tuxedo. Not a rented one either, she recalled
from the wedding planning. She’d wondered why he had a tux hanging in his
closet ever since.
“You don’t have to.” She pretended not to see his hand
as she snagged her clutch from the deserted table and stood. She didn’t want to
know if his touch would still vibrate through her followed by a sharp hook of
guilt. She’d put Scott deep into the friend zone a long time ago, and now was
not the time to throw him a pass. “I’ll send Jerry down. Probably with a swift
kick to his sorry butt.”
His gaze lingered on her face a beat too long, the
corners of his eyes crinkling as that I-know-your-secrets smile spread across
his face. His chuckle sent a warm ripple of desire down her spine. “I want
tickets to that show.”
Of course he did. She didn’t bother to convince him
she could handle it. The sooner she got to her room and could shut the world
out, the better. They walked to the elevator, her head level with his shoulder.
Most of the guys she dated were shorter than her, and her strappy sandals had a
three-inch heel. She’d forgotten what it felt like to stand tall and still feel
delicate, feminine.
“Have you grown since college?” she asked, trying to
make conversation. She pushed the button for her floor and stepped back, much
too close to him. He didn’t move away, and neither did she, though her
heartbeat took off.
He shrugged and glanced down at her. “I hope not. There’s
an upper limit to height where it goes from being tall to circus freak. You
know, like the half of the basketball team that started.”
She gave a silent laugh, imagining all those giants
with rainbow wigs and red bulb noses. Next time one of them gave her a snide
comment she’d imagine they were clowns. As the elevator rose, she flashed through
memories of those basketball team parties back in college. Chris would abandon
her to party with his entourage, leaving her alone and so out of place. But
Scott had always taken the time to talk to her, to listen. He’d been the one to
suggest she join a sorority, gaining an instant sisterhood and support system.
She wouldn’t have survived the aftermath of her non-wedding disaster without
them.
He bumped her shoulder and raised his brows. “We should
have brought a pitcher of ice water. Sneak in there and cool them both right
off.”
She shook her head, an amused puff slipping out. “It
might not work with these horndogs.” She shot him an optimistic look. “Are you
taking them both back to your place?” The bachelor party at Scott’s cabin had
been all any of the groomsmen could talk about.
“Probably.” His grimace was filled with disgust. “I
feel like a parent, dragging my kid home from a rave.” Sympathy bloomed next to
relief in her chest. If Christa stayed with Jerry, there was half a chance she’d
actually get some sleep tonight—after she called housekeeping. But that ray of
hope quickly darkened when they approached her room.
“What the actual hell?”
Next to the door sat a black paisley suitcase. Her
suitcase. No. Just no. If Christa thought she could kick
her out of her own hotel room, she had best think again. Outside. In the cold.
She jammed the keycard into the lock, turning the
handle the second the lock clicked. She barged forward, but the door stopped
dead an instant later. She glanced at the security lock and her frustration
boiled over.
“Damn it, Christa!” she yelled inside, almost gagging
on the waft of sweat and sex.
Inside the dark room came a thump, followed by
whispers and rustling. Christa had the nerve to smile when she put her face to
the three-inch gap, clutching a bedsheet against her chest.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Marissa asked her
used-to-be friend.
“We’re getting back together.” The blonde batted her
fake eyelashes and beamed with excitement.
“Wait, you’re what?” Holy hell, the girl had learned
nothing in college. She lowered her voice, forcing a calm tone. “Have you
forgotten how he dumped you the week before he graduated and then backpacked
through Europe instead of getting a job?”
“We’ve both grown up, and he’s a basketball coach for
underprivileged kids now.” Her indignant glare communicated exactly what she
thought of Marissa’s opinion. “We’re going to give it another shot. Be happy
for me.”
Marissa shook her head and surrendered that battle,
but not the war. “Fantastic. I’m thrilled for you both. Now will you please take your reunion out of my hotel room?”
“About that . . .”
“I don’t know why my suitcase is out here, but I’m not
sleeping in a hotel lobby so you can get laid. It’s my room. I booked it. I’m
paying for it.”
Jerry’s head appeared atop Christa’s. He cleared his
throat. “I’ll pay for the room.”
“No, you won’t, because you’re not staying. You need
to get out, now.” She grabbed the handle of her suitcase. “And take Christa with
you.”
“I would, except I’m bunking at Scott’s place and he’s—
Oh hi, buddy.” The interloper had the nerve to keep the grin on his face as he
looked over her shoulder.
She snapped her fingers to keep both trespassers on
topic. “No one wants to host your little rendezvous. One of you should have
bothered to get a room before you needed to, you know, get a room.”
“It’s not that.” Christa put on her most dazzling
smile, the one she saved for modeling shoots and manipulation. “We’d like some
privacy to reconnect. You understand.”
“The only thing I understand is that I booked this
hotel room, not you.” Awareness shivered up her spine, the scent of soap and
cedar wrapping around her like a blanket. She didn’t need to turn to know Scott
had stepped closer, way inside her personal bubble.
Christa mouthed the word please. “You could take
Jerry’s room up at Scott’s. You’ll have your own room instead of having to
share a bed with me. And Wi-Fi. I know you’re annoyed about the Internet here.”
“Help me out,” Jerry implored his friend.
“You’re welcome to stay with me, Marissa.” Scott’s
deep timbre vibrated through her again. “The guest room has a private bath, and
it’s quiet. Which I doubt either of these two will be.”
Christa nodded like a bobble head. “See? Your own
bathroom. I won’t
be there to mess up where you put everything.”
Marissa bit the inside of her cheek and her pulse
kicked up. She barely restrained urge to kick in the door, call security, and
have their naked asses dragged from the hotel. But that would be the talk of
brunch tomorrow, instead of everyone telling Tanya how much they’d enjoyed the
wedding. This maid of honor gig just didn’t end.
“I’ll drag them back to my place if you want,” Scott offered.
“Though my rules stand for you two— I don’t want to hear it, see it, or smell
it.”
A punch of disgust turned her stomach. When he put it
that way, Marissa really didn’t want to go back in that hotel room where they’d
done who knows what, who knows where. She’d have to have housekeeping disinfect
the place, and pack up Christa’s things, and she really didn’t want to be on
anymore. She had every right to that room, but this whole mess would go away if
she just stayed at Scott’s. After all it was just one night. She’d known Scott since
college; she’d be safe with him. Even if he did remind her of complete and
utter humiliation.
Everything seemed off this year. I started dealing with chronic pain, fixed it with surgery, tried to keep up with my bff treatment schedule, learned my memory issues are permanent, & then there was that little matter of the election. Ahem.
I noticed all this had a huge effect on how much I was reading, & watching. I always goal to read 50 books, and watch 50 movies. It helps me work better to dive into entertainment that provides the same fun & flirty feeling I hope my books bring. Plus...hello? It's awesome.
This year? I watched 34 movies, and 7 of those were over the holiday break. Here's the kicker. I read 23. Twenty-three! Ugh. No wonder everything seemed off! I wasn't getting enough hope & romance in my life.
