Three Little Words (2 page)

“Will.”

The name came to her on a whisper, a random factoid dug from the minutiae of an overburdened life. She glanced at Greg to determine whether he’d heard her. His easy posture told her he hadn’t. She tugged nervously at the seam of her dress and chanced another peek. Her breath caught when she confirmed the man standing at the other side of the bar wasn’t a memory.

The dim light of the hotel ballroom was no match for Will Tarrant’s pirate grin. He tipped his head back to sip his drink and she caught sight of the strands of silver lacing his dark hair. Lines that were once mere hints of the life he’d led now etched bold statements into his handsome face. But the faint white scar bisecting his upper lip was still the same.

Years ago, she’d traced that scar with her fingertip. And her tongue. Funny how a single slash marred a man’s beauty just enough to make him look rakish and incorrigible rather than ruined. Coupled with the self-effacing wit he wielded like a cutlass, Will Tarrant was both a dream and a nightmare come true.

“Would you like to dance?”

She looked up to find Greg smiling at her, his eyebrows raised in hopeful anticipation. His warm palm cupped her elbow, saving her from the devilish amusement in Will’s gaze. She looked at Greg, scrambling to process his request. Warm brown eyes telegraphed the answer they wanted her to give. The rampant thudding of her heart slowed to a sultry strum. Will Tarrant was a ghost from her past. Tonight she wanted a chance at a future. The same future that seemed too open, too daunting, and too damn empty a few hours ago.

“Yes, please.”

Before he could take her hand, a fluttering bird of a woman with an earpiece affixed to her ear sank blood-red talons into the arms of his tuxedo jacket. “I’ve got him.” Lifting a discreet microphone to glossed lips, she murmured into it. “F.O.G. secured.” The woman gave Jo an assessing glance then dismissed her with a brisk shake of her head. “I only need the father of the groom, please.” Giving Greg’s arm a tug, she pulled him away. “The bride and groom want the parents to stand behind them as they cut the cake.”

“But—”

“It’ll just take a few minutes.”

Greg’s mouth pulled into a fierce scowl as the wedding coordinator tugged him away. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move!” he called as the crowd on the dance floor swallowed him whole.

The lights from the DJ’s set-up flashed and swirled. Driving bass thrummed beneath her feet. Disappointment roiled in the pit of her stomach. The tiny hairs on her arms stood on end when someone spoke low and close to her ear.

“I’d like to see your moves again.”

She blinked when she was met with her former lover’s crooked grin. That rakish flash of shiny white teeth made her crazy for him oh-so many moons ago. Time and experience had barely dimmed its wattage. “Hello, Will.”

“Josie.”

He spoke her name in the same deep voice. His tongue still rolled lazily over the vowels and drew out the sibilance, but it no longer made her shiver with need. Much.

Will reached past her to snag Greg’s glass and downed the last shot in a blink. “That’s three. Let’s go.”

He claimed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor as hip-hop gave way to something slow and sexy. Will played the mischievous twinkle and presumptuous attitude as masterfully as ever. With a rueful shake of her head, she allowed him to fold her into his arms.

“You look fantastic, Jo.”

She didn’t fight the blush his compliment spawned. It was one thing to have a stranger tell her she looked well, but quite another to hear it from someone who knew her in better days. One hand braced on his broad shoulder, she steeled her resolve. The last thing she needed was to get pulled under by a wave of nostalgia. “Thank you. You look just the same.”

Will chuckled. It was the same rough and ready rumble he used to use to talk a woman out of her clothes. She’d bet that sexy laugh still worked like a charm. She gazed up into blue eyes as dark as the midnight sky and stepped closer. Her body molded to his. They moved together with the ease of two people unforgettably intimate.

He tightened his hold on her. “Getting old.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Not you.”

He whispered the words into her ear. Jo tried to suppress the shiver running through her, but failed miserably. Will danced her in a slow, smooth circle. His sheepish smile wreaked havoc on her booze-addled senses. His thighs brushed the fabric of her dress. The silky material slid over heated skin. Suddenly she didn’t miss her trusty control-tops one bit.

Snug against the solid length of him, she craned her neck to meet his gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“Eating the medium-cold stuffed chicken, drinking free booze, trying to make time with the prettiest lady in the room.”

The glib answer tripped off his tongue, a short, simple reminder of who her partner was. Will Tarrant was more than a flirt. He was a man disarming enough to be dangerous.

“I meant, how do you know Ben and Kaylin?”

“I’ve known the groom since his mommy and daddy said, ‘Oops!’”

“Oops?”

“Oops. That’s how a good guy like Greg ends up wasting twenty years of his life with a woman like stick-up-her-ass Emily. Oops.”

His derisive tone made her eyebrows jump. At least, she thought they jumped. The buzzing in her blood made every movement seem super-sized. “Are you mocking him because he stepped up and did the right thing?”

“He did the
expected
thing. Their marriage didn’t last past Ben’s twenty-first birthday, so it wasn’t the right thing, after all, huh?”

“I forgot how jaded you are.”

“Realistic.”

“I bet you’ve never married.”

“Never found the right girl.” A wicked glint lit his eyes as his fingertips bumped along the line of her spine. The heel of his hand came to rest above the curve of her ass. “How are you? Only good things happening for you?”

She almost choked on the question’s casual assumption. Will was the kind of man who never did anything he didn’t want to do. How could she possibly tell him she’d given up having choices mere hours after he left her bed all those years ago?

“Yes, my life has been a dream come true.”

His snicker told her the sarcasm hit its mark. “Good, I’m glad.”

The gentle pressure of his fingertips in the small of her back held her snug against him. He led with the easy confidence of an expert. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Will had been waltzing his way through women since he mastered the art of the sustainable hard-on.

“So, Josie.” He drawled the nickname directly into her ear. “Anyone waiting at home for you these days?”

She stiffened and pulled away, prying her reluctant body away from the heat of his as her mind raced. The smug smirk on his face should have made him look like a complete dick, but it didn’t. He was a man made to observe humanity with a hefty dose of amused contempt. And she was a woman determined to reshape her destiny.

Jo didn’t want to flirt. She had no patience for being coy. The days of playing the unattainable woman of mystery were long behind her. She had the cards she’d been dealt. Damned if she’d give in and fold just because life was playing with a marked deck.

“No, but I do have a giant hole in my porch and a thousand termites. So, I’ve got that going for me.” She attempted to tug her hand from his, but Will held fast. “I don’t want to play this game. I don’t want to dance with you. I want—”

“Easy. Not a game, just a dance.”

She squinted up at him, trying to decipher the hidden agenda lurking behind his devil-may-care exterior. At last, full lips settled into a grim line of defeat. He heaved a put-upon sigh.

“I was flirting, Josie.” He took her pause as permission to pull her against him again. The carefully cultivated scruff on his cheeks and jaw snagged her hair. His lips grazed the burning tip of her ear. “You used to be much better at this.”

The whispered chastisement cooled her ire. “Yeah, well, I used to be better at a lot of things.” She pressed her cheek to his lapel, and settled into the smooth pattern of his lead. “You’re not exactly out of practice.”

“Oh, don’t be so quick. Now I’ve seen you again, and I’m thinking my number might be up.”

The blatant insincerity of the statement struck the right chord to put her at ease. Melting into his embrace, Jo shook her head. “You’re just as full of it as ever.”

“Love at second sight. Never thought it would happen to a nice guy like me.”

Surrender curved her lips. “You were never a nice guy.”

“Aw, come on.” He ducked his head to whisper into her ear. “You used to think I was nice.”

She peeled herself from his chest, grasping his broad shoulders to steady herself as she looked him straight in the eye—as straight as possible after a couple glasses of wine, a flute of the bubbly crap, and two shots of tequila. Or was it three? No, two. She didn’t get to glass number three. Something she needed to remember to remedy. Fate was a first-rate bitch when a girl forgot to play the game.

“No, not nice,” she reiterated. He laughed his hellraiser laugh and every nerve ending in her body quivered. She tried to play it cool, brushing her hair over her shoulder with a careless flick, but being cool when her insides danced a samba proved to be beyond her. Her heart beat in time to the sway of his hips. She teetered on the edge, nearly drawn in by the lure of him. “Not one bit nice, but you were so bad it was good.”

Will pulled her close again. “We were good.”

His smooth insistence made Jo miss a step. The toe of her shiny new skyscraper pumps nipped his scuffed wingtips. The solid strength of his arm wrapped snug around her kept her upright, but the seductive haze of tequila and nostalgia began to dissipate. He spoke the truth. For a blink of an eye, a long time ago, they had been good together. But not good enough for either of them to make the extra effort to keep things going once life interfered.

“For a while,” she whispered. “We were good for a little while.”

He inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgment. Their affair was never meant to be permanent.

Still, she couldn’t resist a little dig. “Then again, I knew that about you going in. Didn’t I? You’re the kind of guy who can only be good for a while.”

At least the man had the good grace to blush, but the sheepish look was too practiced to be sincere. “I’m older and wiser now.”

“Older, yes.” She curled his lapel in her fingers then smoothed the fabric under her palm. Wetting her lips, Jo met his gaze directly. “Wiser? I may even buy that,” she conceded. “But you’re still you, Will. Through and through.”

Something behind her caught his attention. “I know someone who isn’t….”

Before she could ask what he meant, a deep voice sliced through the strains of the overheated rock ballad.

“Excuse me.”

Their slow glide ground to a graceless halt, and Will turned his attention to the man beside them. “Yes?”

Greg’s scowl deepened the grooves bracketing his mouth. His nostrils flared when he cast a sidelong glance at her, but he made no move to stake a claim. At least, not physically. “This was supposed to be my dance.”

Will smirked. “Was it? I don’t know how you’d think so. I saw this beautiful woman standing all alone and I thought—”

“I know what you thought,” Greg cut him off by turning to Jo and offering his hand palm up. “Wasn’t this my dance?”

The DJ’s swirling lights reflected in his dark eyes. The song reached a wailing crescendo, but she read his intent loud and clear. She also spotted a compelling sincerity burning bright in their depths. “Yes.”

Greg narrowed his eyes when he spotted Will’s big, grubby paw resting millimeters from the sweet curve of Josie’s ass. She swayed in time with the music, but to his relief, it didn’t look like she was falling for Will tricks. The snug black cocktail dress flowed over her lush curves, but her spine was stiff.

The flash in Josie’s wide hazel eyes when he moved in on them hit him like an uppercut. Driven by tequila and testosterone run amok, he offered his hand. The tips of her fingers grazed his palm and he closed his tight around them. He eyed his friend with undisguised triumph and pulled her into his arms with a flourish only a man one scotch and two shots into the evening would attempt.

Will gave a shrug, the same
couldn’t help myself
bit he’d been falling back on for five decades, then faded into the darkened room. The flush of victory pulsed through Greg’s veins.

Josie gazed up at him. Her full mouth pulled into a solemn line, but her eyes sparkled with an excess of womanly wiles. He fell for every one of them. “Hello.”

The throaty rasp in her voice tied his gut in a knot.

Tucking his chin to his chest, he held her flush against him. “You’re lucky I came along to save you.”

Those lush lips curved, nudging her cheekbones and a breathtakingly appealing dimple appeared. “Am I?”

Greg fixed her with a stern glare. “He’s no gentleman.”

“And you are?”

Lowering his head, he answered with a, “Yes,” that sounded more like a resounding
hell no
.

Josie slid her hand up his shoulder to curl around the back of his neck. One wicked finger slipped under his shirt collar and his nerve endings seized as if she’d plugged him into a strobe. Dark lashes fringed her eyes and her cheeks flushed pink. She wet her lips and fixed her lazy gaze on him. The sigh she heaved pushed her breasts firmly against his chest as she snuggled into the curve of his neck.

He skimmed one hand up her back and under her hair. The other landed on her hip, but he wanted to slide it on her ass more than he wanted his next breath. The flow of blood to his dick left him buzzy and lightheaded. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, the effect was potent.

Josie feathered a sweet, soft kiss to his throat just above the bowtie and whispered, “Damn.”

The heat of her breath permeated the pleated front of his tuxedo shirt. She parted her thighs enough to allow him to insinuate one leg. The scrape of her fingernails on his nape pushed him closer to the edge. Every beat of the undulating rhythm led them into temptation. A low groan snarled in his throat. It threatened to cut off his air entirely, but Greg didn’t care. Knotting his hand in her hair, he tipped her face up to his.