The Wedding She Always Wanted

She should back up. Walk away. At the very least, make a joke to break the tension. But she’d never been good with jokes. She always forgot the punch lines. Until recently, when her own fiancé turned her into one.

If the recent memory of Todd’s betrayal wasn’t enough to slap her back to her senses, Emily flinched when light and laughter spilled out as a nearby door opened, a reminder that the reception was still going on and just about every person she knew was right inside the ballroom. If she thought the rumors about Todd were bad now, how much worse would it be if she were caught kissing another man at what should have been her wedding?

Jumping back, she said, “I have to go.”

“Emily—”

“No, really. Thank you. For the dance, for helping Duncan, for … everything. But I have to go,” Emily said as she backed away quickly.

Javy took a breath, looking ready to call after her, but she didn’t dare let him stop her. She didn’t know if she should blame heartache, and the loss of the wedding that should have been hers, or if something else was at fault, but Javier Delgado had an effect on her she couldn’t explain. The kind of effect she’d never experienced before with any man.

He left her breathless, weak and far too vulnerable at a time when her heart was still raw.

As she raced away, she thought for a split second that Javy might come after her, but the tap of her heels was the only sound she heard. She could have cut through the ballroom, but she didn’t think she could summon up one more fake smile. If the longer walk around the outside saved her from facing any more wedding guests, the blisters on her feet would be well worth it.

As she passed the French doors, she took a quick look inside, hoping to sneak by without being noticed. She shouldn’t have worried. Inside, the reception was still going strong. A line of guests stood at the bar, and couples were twirling together to the romantic strains of a love song. No one even glanced her way or seemed to realize she was missing.

A dark-haired man spun his blonde partner into an elegant dip, and Emily’s breath caught until the couple turned and she saw the man was not Javy. But just because she didn’t see him on the dance floor, that didn’t mean he hadn’t gone back inside. Was he, right now, coaxing some other woman out of a corner and onto the dance floor?

Emily shook her head and started walking. She had to be crazy to be thinking of Javier Delgado now. To be thinking of him at all.

Emily and her parents were staying in a bungalow-style suite away from the main buildings of the hotel. She’d nearly reached the door to her room when she realized she’d left her purse and her key back by the tree her nephew had decided to climb.

She’d been in such a rush to get away from Javy—to run away from the undeniable and unexpected desire he sparked inside her—she’d foolishly forgotten the small clutch.

A sick feeling dragging down her stomach, Emily knew at best she was going to have to go look for her purse. Worst-case scenario, she would have to go back into the ballroom to find one of her parents to let her in through one of their connecting rooms.

She’d let her guard down the moment she left the ballroom, unable to keep up that front a second longer, and she didn’t know how she could possibly build it up enough to go back. Helplessness and frustration swamped her, and she leaned her forehead against the door, tempted to curl up in the doorway and cry.

“You forgot something.”

Emily gasped and spun around at the sound of the deep murmur behind her. Javy stood a few feet away, his white shirt glowing in the faint light, her tiny beaded purse looking wholly out of place in his masculine hand. “My purse!”

The relief sweeping through her was out of proportion to the simple favor of returning her purse, but to Emily, Javy had just saved her from reentering the lion’s den. The roller coaster of her emotions seemed to fly off track, and before she thought about what she was doing, she flung her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Javy, thank you!” The threat of tears choked her voice as she tried to explain. “I was so afraid I was going to have to go back to the ballroom, and I just didn’t know how I could face all those people again—”

“You could do it,” he murmured, his voice full of confidence. “You already faced them once, and the second time will only be easier. But it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“Thanks to you.” Emily pulled back to look up at him, a little embarrassed at how she’d thrown herself into his arms, but reluctant to leave all the same. Like the moment on the dance floor, where she forgot everything but the excitement, the anticipation, the seduction of being in his arms, she couldn’t remember all the reasons why she shouldn’t stay right where she was. “I guess a hero’s work is never done. That’s the second time you’ve come to the rescue.”

“I’m returning your purse,” he said wryly. “Seems more like a job for a Boy Scout than a superhero.”

Emily’s lips twitched until she could no longer hold back, and she wondered at his ability to make her laugh when she least felt like it. But Javy’s own smile faded, his expression intensifying.

“There it is,” he murmured.

“There.” She cleared her throat. “There what is?”

“A real laugh. I thought earlier you would be impossible to resist if you laughed.”

“You did?”

“I did.” Reaching up, he traced what was left of her smile with the pad of his thumb. “And you are.”

Irresistible. The word certainly applied to Javy. What else could explain why Emily didn’t protest as he slid his hand to the nape of her neck and pulled her closer? He moved purposefully—giving her time to notice the perfect shape of his mouth, time to feel the brush of his breath against her lips, time to escape.

But the slow, almost-relentless approach only built a pulse-pounding impatience, and instead of ducking away from his touch, Emily leaned into the kiss. The first barely there brush of his lips, and then the undeniable claim of his mouth over hers. She could taste a hint of the beer he’d had to drink earlier, and after a night filled with champagne toasts, it seemed so right. His kiss had an intoxication all its own, and the stars overhead seemed to spin wildly out of control.

Or maybe she was spinning out of control as Javy’s hands slid down to her hips, each finger a brand against her flesh, even through the pale pink silk. She tightened her arms until her breasts pressed against the solid wall of his chest, but close wasn’t close enough. Her shoulder blades bumped against the carved bungalow door, a sudden reminder that wove through her thoughts.

She’d hardly paid any attention to her room earlier—it was nice enough, but after all, it wasn’t the honeymoon suite. Now, though, she could picture the room clearly with its dark wicker furniture, escape-to-the-tropics decor and large, empty bed.

The crazy thought of pulling the key from the purse Javy had returned and inviting him inside was so out of character, she should have been shocked. But all she felt was tempted by the wild impulse.

A faint, unfamiliar melody played through Emily’s mind, too close to come from the ballroom, too far away to truly register. Javy broke the kiss, his breathing as uneven as hers. With the moon and light from the ballroom behind him, she couldn’t see his expression, only the dark glitter of his eyes. He was so much more experienced than she at this kind of thing—then again, who wasn’t?—did she dare hope he’d been as affected by their kiss?

“Sorry,” he said, his voice a husky murmur as the sound repeated and Emily recognized the ring of a cell phone. “I don’t know who would be calling me now.”

Emily knew she should have been grateful for the interruption, but her still-pounding heart and tingling lips stomped out any other feeling beyond regret.

Fishing the phone out of his pocket, Javy frowned at the number displayed on the screen before answering with a rough “Yeah?” Emily could tell something was wrong even before he asked, “How bad is it?”

Agitation filled his steps as he started pacing while he listened to the person on the other end of the line. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be right there. Do me a favor and don’t call Maria until I have a chance to take a look.”

He snapped the phone closed and met Emily’s gaze. “I have to go. A pipe burst at our restaurant. From what the night manager, Tommy, says, the place is a mess.”

“Of course. I hope it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Despite the barely restrained tension in the line of his jaw and the set of his shoulders, Javy hesitated, as if searching for something to say. A little surprised he didn’t have a sexy quip ready even for a moment like this, Emily shook her head. It wasn’t like she wanted to discuss their kiss or her unexpected desire to take things further than a kiss. She couldn’t begin to explain it to herself.

“Go,” she said softly.

“Emily.” His frustration was verbalized in a muttered curse—in Spanish—before he turned to walk away. He spun back around just as quickly. Catching her around the waist, he pulled her into his arms. He stole her breath and a quick, hard kiss before letting her go and backing away a second time.

“I’ll call you,” he promised.

Hugging her arms around the butterflies dancing in her stomach, Emily watched him disappear into the night. Maybe she was crazy, and maybe she was totally on the rebound after Todd’s betrayal, but she suddenly wasn’t sure she cared as long as Javy was the man to catch her.

Chapter Three

Javy hoped the restaurant wasn’t as bad as he remembered. That after spending half the night wrestling with a Shop-Vac, feeling like he was trying to drain an ocean, he’d been too tired to clinically assess the damage. Sheer exhaustion must have made everything appear so much worse than it really was.

He was wrong.

The bathroom in which the pipe had broken and the area beyond showed the most damage. The force of the water had broken the concrete slab, cracking the Saltillo tile and flooding the place. He could see where the drywall had wicked water up a foot from the baseboards, darkening the paint like poorly done mountainscapes. The bathroom vanities were warped and waterlogged. Even some of the tables and chairs, with their elegant carving and colorful Mexican tile accents, showed signs of damage, a loss that hurt worst of all.

The harsh reality of day made the hours before seem even more like a dream. Last night he’d held a beautiful woman in his arms. Then the clock had struck midnight and poof! He’d been up to his ankles in flood damage.