Page 28

"Well, damn," Christine says with a slow smile. "Our Jackie's falling in love with her very own Daddy Dom. It's like every book we've read is coming to life."

"It's not—" I begin to protest automatically, then stop myself. Is it love? Too soon to tell, certainly. But it's undeniably more significant than any connection I've formed in years, with a potential that both exhilarates and terrifies me.

"It's something," I say instead, unwilling to label feelings still taking shape. "Something worth exploring, at least."

"We're happy for you," Maya says, her expression softening. "Truly. You deserve someone who sees the real you and appreciates her, the way we do."

The simple validation creates a lump in my throat. "Thank you," I manage, genuinely touched by their support.

"Now," Christine says, "let's talk logistics. When do you see him next? Tonight after the reception?"

"That's the plan," I confirm, glancing at the time display on my laptop. "Which means I should get back soon. The cake cutting is scheduled here shortly, and I need to be there to help Catherine."

"Go, go!" Jessica waves dismissively. "Wedding duties first, then storm chaser seduction. But we expect FULL details at our next meeting, including a thorough assessment of his... weather forecasting abilities."

The innuendo draws reluctant laughter from me as I prepare to end the call. "You're incorrigible, all of you."

"And you love us for it," Maya grins. "Now go finish being the perfect professional bridesmaid so you can get back to being perfectly unprofessional with Mr. Daddy Dom Storm Chaser."

"His name is Matt," I say with exaggerated patience.

"Whatever you call him," Christine says with a wink, "just make sure 'Daddy' is part of it."

Heat floods my cheeks again at the all-too-accurate assessment. "Goodbye, ladies," I say firmly, reaching for the end call button. "Book discussion will have to wait until next time."

I end the call, sitting for a moment in the sudden quiet of my hotel room. The conversation has left me feeling strangely exposed yet supported. As I gather myself to return to the reception, my phone buzzes with a text from

Matt: Reception duties becoming increasingly tedious without you nearby. Where did you disappear to, Sunshine?

The simple message, the acknowledgment that he's noticed my absence, that he's thinking of me even amid his brother’s wedding festivities, sends a flutter through my stomach that has nothing to do with physical desire and everything to do with emotional connection.

Me: Had to step away for a quick video call. Heading back now. Miss me?

His response comes immediately.

Matt: More than is reasonable for knowing you less than a week. Nothing about this is reasonable. Cake cutting soon, then first opportunity to dance with you properly. I better get the next dance.

The request warms me from within.

Me: All yours, Daddy

Ihesitate before sending the deliberately provocative response. Professional Jackie would never risk such a message, would maintain appropriate boundaries even in private communication. But I'm no longer just Professional Jackie, at least not with Matt. I'm also the woman who surrendered control in his arms, who articulated desires I'd barely acknowledged to myself, who longs to discover unexpected freedom in submission to the right person.

I hit send, then add a second message to clarify my return timing:

Back in five minutes. Try not to miss me too desperately until then.

His reply makes me laugh out loud.

Matt: Too late. Already contemplating storm-related emergencies that might require us both to leave early. Sadly, clear skies forecast for the entire evening.

When I reenter the ballroom, I find Matt standing near the bar with Greg and several groomsmen, a bourbon in hand and that subtle commanding presence that draws attention without demanding it. As if sensing my arrival, he looks up, our gazes connecting across the crowded room with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.

The slight curve of his lips at seeing me, sends warmth spreading through me. He lifts his glass slightly in my direction, a private toast that no one else would notice or understand.

I incline my head in acknowledgment, then turn to seek out Catherine, slipping back into professional mode with practiced ease. Something new hums with steady awareness, the knowledge that later tonight, when wedding duties are complete, I'll be returning to Matt's arms, his bed, his particular brand of dominant care that provides exactly what I didn't know I needed.

"There you are!" Catherine exclaims when I reach her side. "We're doing cake in ten minutes."