Wedding Party Collection: Once A Bridesmaid...: Here Comes the Bridesmaid / Falling for the Bridesmaid. GINA WILKINS
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right, tomorrow,’ she agreed, and walked with him to the door, where she stopped him. ‘Leo, just so you can think about it before then...I want to have sex with you again. We have up to three more opportunities, and there doesn’t seem to be a reason not to use them. We just need to schedule them so we don’t get distracted from the wedding preparations.’
He was staring again. Couldn’t help it.
‘Far be it from me to distract you, Sunshine,’ he said.
* * *
So!
Yowzer!
As Sunshine wallowed in her bubble bath, lathering herself with her favourite jonquil-scented soap, she pondered what had happened.
It sure hadn’t been a cheesy-love-song experience. More like heavy metal—hard and loud and banging. But maybe with a clash of cymbal thrown in. She smiled, stretched, almost purred.
She knew she would be reliving the sex for an hour or so—that was par for the course. The sexual post-mortem...a normal female ritual. Remembering exactly what had happened, what had been murmured, who’d put what where.
But at four o’clock in the morning she was still trying to piece it together and parcel it off. She wondered if the difficulty was that she didn’t have a precise anatomical memory of the experience. She couldn’t recall everything that had been said, every touch, every kiss. She just had an...awareness. That it had been so gloriously right, somehow.
Which was strange. Because technically it shouldn’t have been that memorable. They hadn’t taken off their clothes; Leo hadn’t touched her breasts—which she’d always counted as her best assets—and he hadn’t even bothered to look at the goods before plunging in—which was a waste of her painfully acquired Brazilian!
But none of that seemed to matter because the can’t wait roughness of it had been more seductive than an hour of foreplay. She hadn’t needed foreplay. Hadn’t wanted finesse. Hadn’t thought about condoms. Hadn’t thought about anything. She’d been so hot, so ready for him.
She wondered—if that rough-and-ready first time was any indication—just how magnificent the next time would be.
Because there would be a next time. She was going to make sure of it.
* * *
TO: Jonathan Jones
FROM: Sunshine Smart
SUBJECT: Party news
Isn’t the menu great? Leo=food genius.
Just the wedding cake to go. I’d tell you the options, but if you chose one I wouldn’t get my cake-tasting, which you know I’ve always wanted to do.
Leo cooked the most amazing meal last night. He is so different from the men I usually meet. More mature, steadier. Kind of conservative—I like that.
His hair is coming along too.
Sunny xxx
TO: Sunshine Smart
FROM: Jonathan Jones
SUBJECT: Do not sleep with Leo Quartermaine
DO NOT!!!!! That would be all kinds of hideous.
Jon
TO: Jonathan Jones
FROM: Sunshine Smart
SUBJECT: Re: Do not sleep with Leo Quartermaine
Oops! Too late!
But how did you know? And why hideous?
Sunny
TO: Sunshine Smart
FROM: Jonathan Jones
SUBJECT: Re:Re: Do not sleep with Leo Quartermaine
OH, MY FREAKING GOD, SUNNY!!!!!!!!
How do I know? For starters because every second word you’re writing is ‘Leo’!
He’s not the type to enjoy the ride then buddy up at the end. You know his parents were drug addicts, right? You know he basically dragged Caleb through that hell and into a proper life?
He’s a tough hombre, not a poncy investment banker, soulful embalmer or saucy hairdresser. This is not a man for you to play with.
Let’s talk tonight—10 p.m. your time. With video. No arguments.
Jon
Sunshine got to the Rump & Chop Grill fifteen minutes early. Although it was part of a pub, it had a separate entrance on a side road—which was locked.
She decided against knocking and inveigling her way inside to wait. That would have been her usual approach. But Leo already had one bunny-boiler on his tail, as well as being in a state about last night, so it was probably best not to look too enthusiastic.
Fortunately there was a café across the road, where she could wait and watch for him. Which would give her time to think.
Because Jon’s email had thrown her.
The thing with Leo was a simple sexual arrangement. No need for concern on anyone’s part.
So he’d had drug addict parents? And, no, of course she hadn’t known that! How could she have, unless someone had told her? And why did it make a difference anyway? Unless Leo was a drug addict himself—and given his obvious disgust over his ex-girlfriend’s coke habit that seemed unlikely.
Did Jon think the fact that Leo and Caleb had navigated a hellish childhood would put her off him? It clearly hadn’t put Jon off Caleb, so why the double standard? And Caleb had come through unscathed. He was a terrific guy—very different from his brother, of course—at least from what she’d seen during their internet chats. Funny and charming and out there. Not that Leo wasn’t also terrific, but he certainly didn’t have Caleb’s lightness of spirit.
But it was to Leo’s credit, wasn’t it, if he was the one who’d dragged them both out of the gutter? She admired him more, not less, because of it. Liked him more.
Okay—that could be a problem. She didn’t actually want to admire or like him more, because admiration and liking could lead to other things. And what she wanted was to keep things just as they were.
Hot man, in her bed, up to three more times. Finish.
As she would tell Jon, very firmly, tonight.
So! For now she would stop thinking about Leo’s horrible childhood and concentrate on the wedding reception. Not that Jon deserved to have her fussing over it after that email, but...well, she loved Jon. And she was going to make the bastard’s wedding reception perfect if it killed her.
While she sat in the café, disgruntled, sipping a coffee she didn’t even want, she scanned the checklist. Having the function at South was brilliant, but it did add an extra task: finding accommodation for people who wouldn’t want to drive back to Sydney. She figured they would need two options—cheap and cheerful, and sumptuous luxury. If she could get it sorted quickly, hotel booking details could be sent out with the invitations. She was sure Leo wouldn’t want to traipse through hotels with her, so she would shoot down the coast herself and just keep him in the loop via email.
Right. The next urgent thing on the list was what Leo was wearing.
At least it was urgent from her perspective, because his shoe design hinged on it. And so did her outfit.
She was dying to wear her new 1930s-style dress in platinum charmeuse. It looked almost molten. Hugging her curves—all right, a little dieting might be required—in an elegantly simple torso wrap before tumbling in an understated swirl to the ground. It even had a divine little train. And she could wear her adorable gunmetal satin peep-toes with the retro crystal buckles.
But there was no good glamming to the hilt if Leo was going to play it down. And so far, aside