In Your Dreams
Page 21
The panic attack drifted to the back of his brain. The breeze fluttered her hair against his face, and he smoothed it away, still kissing her, which he should probably stop. And he would. Eventually.
She did it for him. Pulled back a few inches and didn’t look at him. Pressed her lips together.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“No. That’s... It’s fine.”
Colleen O’Rourke—well, Colleen Campbell now—was suddenly at their side. Jack hadn’t seen her yet—they’d been on different flights out here—but she was an old friend of the bride or something. “Holy Saint Patrick, were you two just kissing?” she asked.
“Leave them alone, Coll,” said her twin.
“Hey, Connor,” Jack said. “What are you doing here?”
“Penance.” He sighed and looked at his sister. “I’m her babysitter.”
“He’s my date,” Colleen said at the same time.
“Colleen and Connor,” boomed a voice. “Please report to the pool immediately.” Ah. The bride had a bullhorn. Nice touch.
“Good God,” Connor muttered.
“Lucas couldn’t come,” Colleen said. “Believe it or not, Con wasn’t my first choice. But Lucas’s niece had an appendectomy, so he had to go to Chicago yesterday, and he forced Connor to come with me, because I’m a delicate flower, Jack, as you may have heard, and also percolating a baby.” She paused for breath. “You guys playing chicken? Con and I are a team.”
“This is horrifying,” Connor said. “I can’t believe I have to do this. I don’t even like hugging you.”
“Oh, stop. It’s a piggyback ride. It won’t kill you.”
“It might, the way you’re eating these days.”
“Colleen and Connor, report to poolside immediately.”
“Can you believe her? I didn’t like her in college, and I don’t like her now.” Colleen looked up at Em. “Are you guys playing?”
Emmaline, who hadn’t said boo, cleared her throat. “We thought it was volleyball. By the way, Jack and I are pretend engaged.”
Connor gave him a look, and Jack shrugged. Colleen clapped her hands. “I told you—you should’ve just committed to that plan to start with. Come on, Connor. Naomi’s summoning me. God, I wish Lucas was here!”
“You’re not the only one,” Connor said.
“Well, believe me, I didn’t want to be here with my grumpy-ass brother—oh, and by the way, Connor, you should’ve said yes to coming to this with Emmaline, because then you wouldn’t be here with your sister as your date.”
“I’m not your date. I’m your keeper,” Connor said.
“Emily and Jack, report to poolside immediately,” boomed the bride. What was that term? Bridezilla? Yeah. That worked.
“Well, shit.” Colleen sighed. “Come on, Connor. Prepare to fight to the death. Your death, of course. You have to save me and my unborn child.”
“This is so wrong,” Connor said, but he obeyed, and off they went.
Jack looked at Emmaline, who was still not looking at him. “Sorry about the kiss.”
“No, no. It’s...whatever.”
“Thank you, by the way.”
She looked at him abruptly. “What for?”
Her eyes were blue. Dark blue.
“Talking me down,” he said. “Letting me kiss you.”
She blushed. Made a weird snorting noise. “It was a huge sacrifice, Jack. I mean, have you looked in the mirror? You’re hideous. Hey, did I tell you I’m going to be a crisis negotiator? Well, sort of. I mean, I’m taking a class when we get back home. You know. Hostage situations. Suicidal people. So it was good practice. Not that you’re taking any hostages, or, uh...never mind. It’s fine. We’re good.”
She was nervous. It was kind of cute.
“Ready to play chicken?”
“No.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. Take that thing off and let’s get going.”
“I should never have come to this wedding,” she said.
“You’re a cop. Be brave.”
“Bite me.”
“That’s my girl.”
Her blush deepened. Then she scowled at him, grumbled a little more and yanked the burka over her head.
Hello.
Now why the hell would she be worried about wearing a bathing suit when she looked like that? She had long legs, a really nice ass and an amazing rack that was on fantastic display, and whoever made that suit should be given a Nobel prize in engineering, because wow.
Emmaline wasn’t lean by any stretch of the imagination, but Jack always kind of liked that. She looked like a woman, not a prepubescent girl. The kind of woman who’d feel soft and sturdy at the same time.
Let’s find out, his brain told him.
“What are you looking at?” she growled.
He looked away. “My grandmother has that same bathing suit,” he said. “Try a bikini next time.”
“Right. I’ll also try setting myself on fire, since it would be just as fun. Bad enough that I’m here in the Land of Plastic People.”
“Emily and Jack, get over here now!” boomed the bride.
“I’m getting you a bikini,” he said, standing up. “Now that we’re engaged.”
“Let’s just get this over with. I apologize in advance for any herniated discs.”
“Relax. Be happy. We’re engaged and possibly expecting a baby.” He took her hand and headed for the pool.
The thought of going into the water didn’t bother him. A pool wasn’t a lake. There was no chance of a car accident here. Everyone would be fine.
The bride put down her bullhorn. “About time,” she said, scanning Emmaline up and down.
To her credit, Em ignored her and dived neatly into the deep end of the pool, then surfaced, looking as if she wanted to be banged silly.
Okay, Jack, enough of that. The poor kid is going through a tough time. Also, that may be transference on your part.
He dived in, too, the cool water sliding over his head. No problems. Good. He was a navy man, after all. He couldn’t be afraid of the water. And he wasn’t. Here was proof.
He swam over to Emmaline. “Mount up, Pooh Bear,” he said.
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
He seemed to be looking at her br**sts again. Being in the water only made them look more...buoyant. “You’re rocking this suit,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re gorgeous yourself. And where does a winemaker get washboard abs, by the way?”
Nice of her to notice. “I’m a Greek god, remember?”
“I resent the fact that you remember that.” But she smiled a little nonetheless.
There was a splash from the deep end. “Oh, gosh golly!” Colleen called. “We lost. Con, let’s get something to eat. What do you say? I’m starving.”
Jack turned to Emmaline and smiled. “Upsy-daisy, Pooh.”
* * *
EMMALINE WAS NOT HAPPY.
The miracle bathing suit was constricting her stomach to the point of Scarlett O’Hara’s corset, and she was having difficulty breathing.
The Ta-Ta Ta-Dahs were in place, and while she was sure she never wanted to meet the weird, breast-obsessed, Mommy-didn’t-nurse-me person who’d come up with them, she had to give him credit. The girls looked quite ambitious.
Jack kept looking, which might’ve been gratifying, were it not for (a) the look was fake, and (b) the two cold fake raw chicken cutlets felt just as disgusting as one might think.
And now she had to climb on Jack’s shoulders. Hopefully, he wouldn’t cry out in agony and crumple.
However, those shoulders looked pretty sturdy to her. In fact, all of him looked...so... He was... What was the question again?
Because even in this crowd, where wedding guests seemed to have been chosen from the modeling lineup for Abercrombie & Fitch, Jack stood out. Not only was he ridiculously handsome, he was working-man delicious. He wasn’t ripped and chiseled (or waxed, thank heavens)...but he was, well, hell, kind of perfect.
While Kevin and the other guys looked like what they were—gym addicts—Jack just looked strong. He had broad shoulders that would soon be put to the test under her weight. A flat stomach that rippled with muscle. Arms that got their definition from lifting barrels (or whatever his job required him to lift, but picturing him hefting wooden barrels was quite satisfying). There was a happy trail from his navel to the waistband of his trunks, and—
“Emily and Jack! Can you please get going here!”
“Ready?” Jack said, and before she knew it, he ducked underwater and—oh, boy—between her legs. Then he stood up and she was teetering on his shoulders, and how did her stomach look? Was the miracle suit all it promised to be?
She grabbed on to his forehead so she wouldn’t fall.
“You good up there?” he asked.
“Yep! Very good,” she chirped. So, so good. Lawdy, the Bitter Betrayeds were going to hear about this! Maybe she’d even get a tattoo on each thigh—Jack Holland’s head was here.
There was a DJ set up by the smoothie bar, and the theme song to Jaws started playing.
“We’re in it to win it!” Naomi bellowed, clambering on top of Kevin’s shoulders. Two other couples were also in this gladiator match, and both women were quite gorgeous, too, except not quite as beautiful as Naomi. Both wore string bikinis, as did the bride.
Sigh. No, no! None of that! You will not feel like an ugly duckling, she told herself firmly. You have a 93 percent accuracy rate for head shots with your Smith & Wesson. You can pick up all three Cabrera triplets at once. You rock.
“Let’s take a dive like Colleen and Connor did,” she suggested to Jack, somewhat concerned about squashing his vertebrae. “We can go get donuts instead.”
“No way,” he said. “We’re in it to win it, too.”
The rules were simple—knock the other couples down. They were in a part of the pool where the water was about chest deep, and each couple had their own quadrant to defend. Hopefully, no one would fall and hit their heads, because if any blood got in the water, Em was pretty sure Naomi would go into a feeding frenzy. Even now, she was flashing a sharklike grin. The music didn’t help.
Em suspected she was about to have her leg bitten off.
“Do we have a strategy here?” Em asked. Jack’s wet hair tickled her thighs.
He looked up, the motion of his head making her squeak with lust. His beautiful blue eyes crinkled with a smile. “Hold on,” he said.
“On your mark!” Naomi bellowed. “Get set! Go!”
There was a sloshing noise as all the couples charged the center. The DJ turned up the music. Duh-duh...duh-duh...duh-duh-duh-duh.
Jack reached couple number one, a redheaded woman on top of a very beautiful man. “Hi,” Em said.
“Hi.”
“Um...” Emmaline reached out with one hand and gave the woman a gentle push.
She went down like a narcoleptic kitten. Then again, she probably weighed as much as fog.
“Sorry!” Em said, guilt flashing immediately.
“No, no. Don’t worry,” she said. Was it Em’s imagination, or did the woman look relieved?
“Incoming,” Jack said, turning around. Couple number two didn’t wait; the man took a dive before Emmaline even touched the woman.
“Oh, come on, Randy!” Naomi bellowed.
“Yeah, come on!” Kevin echoed.
It dawned on Emmaline that no one wanted to compete with the happy couple. Indeed, Naomi seemed a little ticked that the other two couples were already swimming for the stairs.
She did it for him. Pulled back a few inches and didn’t look at him. Pressed her lips together.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“No. That’s... It’s fine.”
Colleen O’Rourke—well, Colleen Campbell now—was suddenly at their side. Jack hadn’t seen her yet—they’d been on different flights out here—but she was an old friend of the bride or something. “Holy Saint Patrick, were you two just kissing?” she asked.
“Leave them alone, Coll,” said her twin.
“Hey, Connor,” Jack said. “What are you doing here?”
“Penance.” He sighed and looked at his sister. “I’m her babysitter.”
“He’s my date,” Colleen said at the same time.
“Colleen and Connor,” boomed a voice. “Please report to the pool immediately.” Ah. The bride had a bullhorn. Nice touch.
“Good God,” Connor muttered.
“Lucas couldn’t come,” Colleen said. “Believe it or not, Con wasn’t my first choice. But Lucas’s niece had an appendectomy, so he had to go to Chicago yesterday, and he forced Connor to come with me, because I’m a delicate flower, Jack, as you may have heard, and also percolating a baby.” She paused for breath. “You guys playing chicken? Con and I are a team.”
“This is horrifying,” Connor said. “I can’t believe I have to do this. I don’t even like hugging you.”
“Oh, stop. It’s a piggyback ride. It won’t kill you.”
“It might, the way you’re eating these days.”
“Colleen and Connor, report to poolside immediately.”
“Can you believe her? I didn’t like her in college, and I don’t like her now.” Colleen looked up at Em. “Are you guys playing?”
Emmaline, who hadn’t said boo, cleared her throat. “We thought it was volleyball. By the way, Jack and I are pretend engaged.”
Connor gave him a look, and Jack shrugged. Colleen clapped her hands. “I told you—you should’ve just committed to that plan to start with. Come on, Connor. Naomi’s summoning me. God, I wish Lucas was here!”
“You’re not the only one,” Connor said.
“Well, believe me, I didn’t want to be here with my grumpy-ass brother—oh, and by the way, Connor, you should’ve said yes to coming to this with Emmaline, because then you wouldn’t be here with your sister as your date.”
“I’m not your date. I’m your keeper,” Connor said.
“Emily and Jack, report to poolside immediately,” boomed the bride. What was that term? Bridezilla? Yeah. That worked.
“Well, shit.” Colleen sighed. “Come on, Connor. Prepare to fight to the death. Your death, of course. You have to save me and my unborn child.”
“This is so wrong,” Connor said, but he obeyed, and off they went.
Jack looked at Emmaline, who was still not looking at him. “Sorry about the kiss.”
“No, no. It’s...whatever.”
“Thank you, by the way.”
She looked at him abruptly. “What for?”
Her eyes were blue. Dark blue.
“Talking me down,” he said. “Letting me kiss you.”
She blushed. Made a weird snorting noise. “It was a huge sacrifice, Jack. I mean, have you looked in the mirror? You’re hideous. Hey, did I tell you I’m going to be a crisis negotiator? Well, sort of. I mean, I’m taking a class when we get back home. You know. Hostage situations. Suicidal people. So it was good practice. Not that you’re taking any hostages, or, uh...never mind. It’s fine. We’re good.”
She was nervous. It was kind of cute.
“Ready to play chicken?”
“No.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. Take that thing off and let’s get going.”
“I should never have come to this wedding,” she said.
“You’re a cop. Be brave.”
“Bite me.”
“That’s my girl.”
Her blush deepened. Then she scowled at him, grumbled a little more and yanked the burka over her head.
Hello.
Now why the hell would she be worried about wearing a bathing suit when she looked like that? She had long legs, a really nice ass and an amazing rack that was on fantastic display, and whoever made that suit should be given a Nobel prize in engineering, because wow.
Emmaline wasn’t lean by any stretch of the imagination, but Jack always kind of liked that. She looked like a woman, not a prepubescent girl. The kind of woman who’d feel soft and sturdy at the same time.
Let’s find out, his brain told him.
“What are you looking at?” she growled.
He looked away. “My grandmother has that same bathing suit,” he said. “Try a bikini next time.”
“Right. I’ll also try setting myself on fire, since it would be just as fun. Bad enough that I’m here in the Land of Plastic People.”
“Emily and Jack, get over here now!” boomed the bride.
“I’m getting you a bikini,” he said, standing up. “Now that we’re engaged.”
“Let’s just get this over with. I apologize in advance for any herniated discs.”
“Relax. Be happy. We’re engaged and possibly expecting a baby.” He took her hand and headed for the pool.
The thought of going into the water didn’t bother him. A pool wasn’t a lake. There was no chance of a car accident here. Everyone would be fine.
The bride put down her bullhorn. “About time,” she said, scanning Emmaline up and down.
To her credit, Em ignored her and dived neatly into the deep end of the pool, then surfaced, looking as if she wanted to be banged silly.
Okay, Jack, enough of that. The poor kid is going through a tough time. Also, that may be transference on your part.
He dived in, too, the cool water sliding over his head. No problems. Good. He was a navy man, after all. He couldn’t be afraid of the water. And he wasn’t. Here was proof.
He swam over to Emmaline. “Mount up, Pooh Bear,” he said.
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
He seemed to be looking at her br**sts again. Being in the water only made them look more...buoyant. “You’re rocking this suit,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re gorgeous yourself. And where does a winemaker get washboard abs, by the way?”
Nice of her to notice. “I’m a Greek god, remember?”
“I resent the fact that you remember that.” But she smiled a little nonetheless.
There was a splash from the deep end. “Oh, gosh golly!” Colleen called. “We lost. Con, let’s get something to eat. What do you say? I’m starving.”
Jack turned to Emmaline and smiled. “Upsy-daisy, Pooh.”
* * *
EMMALINE WAS NOT HAPPY.
The miracle bathing suit was constricting her stomach to the point of Scarlett O’Hara’s corset, and she was having difficulty breathing.
The Ta-Ta Ta-Dahs were in place, and while she was sure she never wanted to meet the weird, breast-obsessed, Mommy-didn’t-nurse-me person who’d come up with them, she had to give him credit. The girls looked quite ambitious.
Jack kept looking, which might’ve been gratifying, were it not for (a) the look was fake, and (b) the two cold fake raw chicken cutlets felt just as disgusting as one might think.
And now she had to climb on Jack’s shoulders. Hopefully, he wouldn’t cry out in agony and crumple.
However, those shoulders looked pretty sturdy to her. In fact, all of him looked...so... He was... What was the question again?
Because even in this crowd, where wedding guests seemed to have been chosen from the modeling lineup for Abercrombie & Fitch, Jack stood out. Not only was he ridiculously handsome, he was working-man delicious. He wasn’t ripped and chiseled (or waxed, thank heavens)...but he was, well, hell, kind of perfect.
While Kevin and the other guys looked like what they were—gym addicts—Jack just looked strong. He had broad shoulders that would soon be put to the test under her weight. A flat stomach that rippled with muscle. Arms that got their definition from lifting barrels (or whatever his job required him to lift, but picturing him hefting wooden barrels was quite satisfying). There was a happy trail from his navel to the waistband of his trunks, and—
“Emily and Jack! Can you please get going here!”
“Ready?” Jack said, and before she knew it, he ducked underwater and—oh, boy—between her legs. Then he stood up and she was teetering on his shoulders, and how did her stomach look? Was the miracle suit all it promised to be?
She grabbed on to his forehead so she wouldn’t fall.
“You good up there?” he asked.
“Yep! Very good,” she chirped. So, so good. Lawdy, the Bitter Betrayeds were going to hear about this! Maybe she’d even get a tattoo on each thigh—Jack Holland’s head was here.
There was a DJ set up by the smoothie bar, and the theme song to Jaws started playing.
“We’re in it to win it!” Naomi bellowed, clambering on top of Kevin’s shoulders. Two other couples were also in this gladiator match, and both women were quite gorgeous, too, except not quite as beautiful as Naomi. Both wore string bikinis, as did the bride.
Sigh. No, no! None of that! You will not feel like an ugly duckling, she told herself firmly. You have a 93 percent accuracy rate for head shots with your Smith & Wesson. You can pick up all three Cabrera triplets at once. You rock.
“Let’s take a dive like Colleen and Connor did,” she suggested to Jack, somewhat concerned about squashing his vertebrae. “We can go get donuts instead.”
“No way,” he said. “We’re in it to win it, too.”
The rules were simple—knock the other couples down. They were in a part of the pool where the water was about chest deep, and each couple had their own quadrant to defend. Hopefully, no one would fall and hit their heads, because if any blood got in the water, Em was pretty sure Naomi would go into a feeding frenzy. Even now, she was flashing a sharklike grin. The music didn’t help.
Em suspected she was about to have her leg bitten off.
“Do we have a strategy here?” Em asked. Jack’s wet hair tickled her thighs.
He looked up, the motion of his head making her squeak with lust. His beautiful blue eyes crinkled with a smile. “Hold on,” he said.
“On your mark!” Naomi bellowed. “Get set! Go!”
There was a sloshing noise as all the couples charged the center. The DJ turned up the music. Duh-duh...duh-duh...duh-duh-duh-duh.
Jack reached couple number one, a redheaded woman on top of a very beautiful man. “Hi,” Em said.
“Hi.”
“Um...” Emmaline reached out with one hand and gave the woman a gentle push.
She went down like a narcoleptic kitten. Then again, she probably weighed as much as fog.
“Sorry!” Em said, guilt flashing immediately.
“No, no. Don’t worry,” she said. Was it Em’s imagination, or did the woman look relieved?
“Incoming,” Jack said, turning around. Couple number two didn’t wait; the man took a dive before Emmaline even touched the woman.
“Oh, come on, Randy!” Naomi bellowed.
“Yeah, come on!” Kevin echoed.
It dawned on Emmaline that no one wanted to compete with the happy couple. Indeed, Naomi seemed a little ticked that the other two couples were already swimming for the stairs.
