Читать книгу The Morning After The Wedding Before - Anne Oliver, Anne Oliver - Страница 9

STIFLING a yawn, Emma glanced at her watch and wondered if Stella’s hen’s party would ever end. Twelve-thirty. The male stripper had done his thing and left to raucous feminine laughter and a wildly improper proposition or two over half an hour ago. The girls were now sitting around Emma’s table drinking what remained of a bottle of vodka.

Emma had sat on one glass of wine the entire evening. She needed a clear head. She still had half a dozen orders to fill when the others left.

Emma glanced at the bleary-eyed girls in various stages of intoxication as Joni poured the remains of the vodka into her glass and laid the bottle on its side on the table. ‘Don’t any of you girls have to work in the morning?’ she asked.

‘It’s Friday tomorrow,’ Joni said, spinning the bottle lazily between two fingers. ‘Nothing gets done on a Friday anyway.’

‘Well, I don’t want to be a party pooper but I’ve got work to finish tonight.’

Karina pointed at her. ‘You need to get a life, Emma Dilemma.’ She downed her drink, slapped her glass on the table and slurred, ‘Seriously. Your hormones must be shrivelling up with neglect. When was the last time you got laid?’

‘Kar, give it a rest.’ Stella shot Emma a concerned look. ‘She broke up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago.’

Karina squinted at Emma through glazed green eyes. ‘You had a boyfriend?’

Emma could see it in Karina’s eyes—How did you find the time?—and her whole body tightened. ‘He wasn’t a boyfriend as such …’ She picked up her glass, touched the rim against her lips. ‘He was convenient. More like a bed buddy.’ Even if Wayne had seen their relationship that way, in Emma’s book bed buddies didn’t cheat. When the gaggle of giggles subsided she angled her glass in Karina’s direction. ‘You’d be familiar with the concept of bed buddies.’

‘Totally.’ Karina grinned. ‘Way to go, Em,’ she enthused, then raised a hand. ‘Okay, enough of the true confessions. We’re hungry, aren’t we, girls? And since you’re the only sober one here, Emma Dilemma, how about being a good little bridesmaid and fetching us a burger from that shop down the road?’

‘And fries,’ Joni added, stuffing another chocolate in her mouth.

‘I’ll go to the drive-through. It’s closer.’

Karina shook her head. ‘Nuh-uh. We want real hamburgers with proper meat—not that cardboard stuff.’

‘Yeah,’ Joni agreed. ‘With lashings of bacon.’

Stella leaned to the side and massaged Emma’s neck a moment. ‘Come on, Em. I looove you, sis,’ she cajoled in a boozy voice, then pulled her purse from her bag. ‘My treat.’

Emma pushed up. Anything for peace. ‘Okay. Providing you take your orders and eat them somewhere else. I’ve got to work.’

‘You’re a good sport, Em.’ Karina stood, slung an arm around Emma’s neck. She patted Emma’s backside, then grinned hugely. ‘Off you go, now.’

‘Told you they’d still be awake,’ Ryan said as the limo pulled into the Byrnes’ driveway.

They’d dropped off the rest of the guys from the bucks’ night, but Ry had got it into his head to kiss Stella goodnight before going home, and Jake—well, he was along for the ride. It was his responsibility to ensure nothing happened to Ryan before the big day. It had nothing to do with Emma living here too.

‘Not sure they’ll appreciate us gatecrashing their evening.’ With a few beers under his belt, Jake stretched his long legs out in front of him. He’d assured Stella he’d look out for Ryan, and he’d done a pretty good job. He glanced at the slightly worse-for-wear groom-to-be. Mostly. Then he looked down to the well-lit studio. ‘What do you suppose the girls get up to on a hens’ night?’

‘We’re about to find out.’ Ryan was already fumbling with the door.

‘Steady, mate. I promised Stella I’d get you home in one piece.’

‘Whoa …’ Ryan murmured as the limo’s lights swept an arc across the driveway, whitewashing the unexpected view of a female figure half-in, half-out of a car. ‘Nice arse.’

Jake blinked at the flash of leggings-clad backside poking out of the open door, then took his time to admire the slender thighs and shapely calves rising from a pair of silver stilettos. A spark of interest danced along his veins. ‘Careful,’ he murmured with a grin. ‘You’re practically a married man.’

‘Doesn’t mean I’m dead.’

But Jake’s attention had focused on what looked like a neon sticker in the shape of a hand on the girl’s backside. ‘What is that?’ He squinted. The words Pat Me glittered in gold. ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ he murmured, still grinning. His grin faded. ‘Isn’t that Emma’s car?’

‘Reckon you’re right.’ Both men looked at each other. ‘Emma?’

They turned back to see her unfurling from the car’s depths. Dropping a loose soda can into the carton on her hip, she righted herself only to freeze in the headlights like a stunned, lanky-legged gazelle.

Incredulous, Jake felt his whole body tense as he took in the view. Hot. Over the leggings she wore a slinky white sleeveless top with a scooped neckline, blanched in the glare and highlighting enough curves to start her own Grand Prix.

‘Eyes off, buddy.’ He cleared his suddenly dry throat. ‘She’s about to become your sister-in-law.’

But Jake wasn’t honour-bound by any such restriction. Eyes still feasting on the mouthwatering sight, he unfolded himself and climbed out, leaning an elbow on the open door. Cool air hit him. He could smell burgers.

‘Emma. Wow.’

He gave himself a mental kick up the backside. Well said. Spoken like a freaking teenager. Where the hell were his sophisticated, urbane conversational skills? But his brain didn’t seem to be functioning because all his blood had drained below his belt.

She seemed to come out of her daze, eyes widening as they met his. ‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ she said, tight-lipped, as she turned and headed for the door at a rate of knots.

‘Careful …’ he called. Too late—he was already moving forward as he saw her stiletto bend and her ankle crumple. He heard her swear before she landed on that watch-worthy rear end in front of him, the carton she’d been carrying landing beside her.

Ryan rescued the carton with a muffled, ‘I’ll get Stella,’ and made his escape as Jake squatted beside her. ‘Emma?’ He reached for her elbows. ‘Are you okay?’

Emma groaned, but not nearly as much from the pain shooting up her calf as from her spectacular fall from grace in front of this man. She felt Jake’s hands on her, his warm breath washing over her face, and closed her eyes. ‘Just let me die now.’

She heard that rich caramel chuckle of his. He had both her shoes off before she could stop him. Gentle fingers probed her ankle, and a voice laced with calm concern and a hint of amusement said, ‘So this is what you girls get up to on hen nights. Ry and I were wondering.’

She started to shuffle away from him but felt her leggings snag on the rough cement. She heard a strange sound, like Velcro parting, and stopped abruptly. ‘I’m okay,’ she said, gritting her teeth. Or she would be if she didn’t die of embarrassment first. ‘Now go away.’

He moved around behind her, slid his hands beneath her arms and hauled her upright so that his body was in intimate contact with her back. His big, hot masculine body. Her practically naked back. And nothing but thin torn jersey between her bare bottom and his … pelvis. Liquid heat spurted into her cheeks, along her limbs and everywhere their bodies touched.

‘I told you I’m fine.’ She tried to shrug away from the intimate contact but he didn’t budge.

‘Test your weight on it,’ he ordered.

Her ankle tweaked when she set it on the ground but she stifled a wince and said, ‘See? Fine.’

‘Yeah, I can see.’

Ryan and the girls spilled out of the studio just as Jake swept her up into his arms. In an automatic reaction she clutched at his shoulders, and for an instant of lunacy she wallowed in the strength and heat surrounding her.