The Right Bed?: Your Bed or Mine?

Caley pulled open the fitting room door and stepped out. Jake had been sitting on a bench and the moment he saw her, he quickly stood, a tiny gasp slipping from his lips.

“Wow,” he murmured. “That’s some dress.”

Caley smoothed her hands over her hips as she turned. “It is nice, isn’t it?”

“Are you wearing underwear?”

She gave him a stern look. “It’s too clingy.”

“So, you’re not going to wear underwear. Where the hell am I supposed to put my hands when we dance?” he asked. “This is going to be a problem.”

“Are we going to dance?”

“You’re the maid of honor and I’m the best man. I think it’s a rule than we take at least one turn around the floor.”

Miss Belle hurried up and studied Caley critically. “We’ll bring the sleeves up a bit. I’d assume you plan to go … without?” She pointed to Caley’s chest.

“Do I have a choice?” Caley asked.

“Well, we have the stick-ons.”

“Can we see some of those?” Jake asked, a worried expression on his face.

Caley shook her head. “This will be fine.”

Miss Belle held out a shoebox. “Try the shoes so I can check the hem.”

Caley grabbed a shoe from the box and tried to put it on, but couldn’t keep her balance in the long dress. Jake slipped his hands around her waist and steadied her as she put on the dyed-to-match pumps.

“Perfect,” the shopkeeper said. “I’ll be right back.” Miss Belle hurried off to answer the phone, leaving Jake and Caley alone at the rear of the shop.

“Perfect,” Jake repeated.

“Stop saying things like that to me,” she murmured. “Sometimes I feel like you’re playing with me.”

He shook his head. “It’s how we are, Caley. It’s how we’ve always been.”

She turned and walked back to the fitting room, and Jake followed close on her heels. When she stepped inside, Caley tried to close the door behind her, but Jake slipped inside, then leaned back against the door.

“In all the time that I’ve known you, have I ever lied to you?” Jake asked.

Caley stared at her fingernails. Until that night of her eighteenth birthday, Jake had been the one person she knew she could count on for unadulterated honesty. “I don’t think so.”

“Who told you to take the toilet paper out of your bra the night of the Fourth of July dance at the park? Who told you you looked like a giraffe when you started wearing those platform shoes? Who told you not to go out with Jeff Winslow because all he wanted to do was feel you up?”

“You did,” Caley said. “But I went out with Jeff Winslow anyway. Of course, he did try to feel me up.”

“See?”

“Just because you never lie to me doesn’t mean that you don’t have the capacity to hurt me.”

He took a step toward her, then reached out and touched her cheek. “Does that hurt?”

Caley drew a shaky breath. It felt so good to have him touch her, his fingertips leaving a warm imprint on her skin. She shook her head. This time she wouldn’t make it so easy for him. This time she’d resist him.

Jake took another step closer and kissed her softly on the forehead. “How about that? Tell me it feels good.”

She swallowed hard, then sighed deeply as he kissed her temple. Did she have the strength? And was it wise to try and resist? It really didn’t seem worth the effort. “Yes,” she said. “It feels good.”

He hooked his finger beneath her chin and tipped her gaze up to meet his. And then he kissed her, his tongue teasing at her lips before gently invading her mouth. But it wasn’t like the kiss in the truck. This kiss was slow and sensuous, meant to melt all her resolve. Caley wrapped her arms around his neck and surrendered, enjoying the rush of heat that coursed through her body.

His hands slid down her waist to her hips, then circled to smooth over her back, left bare by the cut of the dress. Caley’s mind whirled as she tried to remember every detail of the kiss, forcing herself not to slip into some hazy state of desire. But in the end, it was impossible to maintain her composure. Jake seemed determined to prove that he was quite possibly the best kisser in the entire world.

When his hand moved to her breast, she moaned softly. He grazed his thumb across her nipple, bringing it to a hard peak, sending a wild wave of pleasure coursing through her. When he finally drew back, Caley was dizzy with excitement. Her breath was coming in quick gasps and her pulse was pounding in her head.

“If that ever stops feeling good, you just let me know and I’ll stop,” Jake whispered. He kissed the tip of her nose, then walked out of the fitting room, closing the door behind him.

Caley stumbled back until she leaned against the mirrored wall for support. Her trembling fingers touched her lips and she felt a smile growing there. After all these years, it was hard to believe that all her fantasies about Jake might just come true.

There was something powerful pulsing between them and it didn’t look like either one of them had the capacity—or the will—to stop it. And that made it all the more exciting—and dangerous.

“THE BURTBERT SNOW BOWL begins in fifteen minutes!” Brett called.

Jake and Sam looked over their shoulders at their brother and gave him a wave. “We’ll be ready,” Jake shouted.

They sat on the stairs that, in the summer, led down to the dock and the beach they shared with the Lamberts. The lake was frozen over and covered with snow, but Teddy Lambert had cleared an area big enough for skating or a pick-up hockey game.

Jake stretched his legs out in front of him and watched the last of the snowflakes drift lazily through the air. The storm was over and everything was covered with a sparkly powder. “So you’re getting married.”

Sam smiled as he traced a pattern in the snow with a stick. “That’s what I hear.”

“I gotta tell you, Sam, I was surprised when I heard you were engaged to Emma. But then when I heard you were getting married so quickly, I was kinda shocked. A month and a half is a pretty short engagement, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.”

“How much time have you two really spent together?”

Sam shrugged. “Three summers, here at the lake house. And then I visited her in Boston over Thanksgiving and we got together during Christmas break in Chicago and we just decided we didn’t want to be apart anymore.”

“Why not live together then?” Jake asked. “Give yourself some more time.”

“Because Emma wants to get married,” Sam said.

“What do you want?”

“Why so many questions?” Sam asked, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.

“That’s my job as your best man. To be sure you’re making the best choices.”