Page 31 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)

He wants me. Not just this kiss, not just my body. Me.

The kiss deepened, not with urgency but with a slow-building intensity that made her toes curl.

His thumb brushed along her jaw, tilting her face just enough that his lips found the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then the soft curve below her ear.

A shiver ran through her entire body, and she couldn’t stop the small, breathy sound that escaped her throat.

“Ranney,” he murmured. The sound of her name on his lips sent another rush of heat through her. She was distantly aware of the fire flickering nearby, of the faint champagne taste on both their lips, but mostly, she was aware of him.

His warmth, his scent now clean and sharp, and the steady strength of his hands as they settled on her waist.

He pulled her closer, and she let the pillow drop from her lap.

Her body fit against his like it had been waiting for this, her heartbeat picking up as his mouth traced a slow path along her jawline.

He wasn’t rushing her, wasn’t rushing them, just exploring, as though he wanted to memorize her with every kiss.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, his breath warm on her skin, his forehead resting against hers. “Do you want to do this?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Something in him eased at her words. His hand slid over her back, up and down, drawing her closer until her chest pressed to his.

She felt the rise and fall of his breathing, the heat of him under the robe, the solid weight of his presence.

Every touch sent ripples of longing through her.

This was desire, yes, but something else, too.

Something much, much deeper.

Tom kissed her again, slower this time, savoring her, his hands moving over her shoulders, her arms, as if he was reminding himself that she was here, real, with him.

His lips brushed her temple, her cheek, and back to her mouth.

His other hand slipped to her hip, pulling her fully against him, and she felt the unspoken promise there.

Her mind was blissfully quiet now. No thoughts of normalcy or age gaps, no doubt about what he wanted. He wanted her.

When his hand skimmed the side of her thigh, she shivered and pressed closer. The heat between them grew, and the room itself was breathing along with them.

He murmured something low in his voice—her name again, she thought—and she smiled against his lips.

The fire crackled, the champagne bubbles fizzed faintly from the table, but all Ranney felt was Tom.

Every touch of his fingers was careful but reverent, tracing her shape as if he couldn’t get enough.

His lips brushed the hollow of her throat, then returned to her mouth with an intensity that made her pulse stutter.

The robe shifted as he drew her closer still, his palm splayed across her back under the nightshirt, warm and steady. There was nothing hurried about him, nothing careless.

Just this slow, burning certainty.

Ranney tilted her head, let out a sigh that was half a laugh, half a surrender, and whispered, “I believe you.”

“Good,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Mission accomplished.”

The next kiss was deeper, warmer, enough to make her toes curl and her entire body arch into his. She felt the steady, certain rhythm of his heart against hers.

Everything else—time, space, worry—just faded.

The night stretched before them, full of promise, as his lips found hers again, and she let herself fall into the moment.

Fall hard.

Fall free.

With arms wide open.

The room was dark when she woke up in the king-size bed, except for the flickering golden glow of the gas fireplace.

Tom’s arms were around her, her cheek resting on his bicep, and although she had that momentary where-am-I sensation that hotel rooms elicit, she felt instinctively that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Until a distant pounding entered her consciousness.

The sound was muffled, and at first she thought the hotel must be doing repairs or renovations on another floor. But was that likely? It was the middle of the night and even in Las Vegas, guests must be asleep. There had been a pause, but the pounding started up again.

“Tom?”

“Mmm.”

“Do you hear that?” She sat up.

A doorbell chimed. You know you have a very large hotel suite when there is a doorbell.

Tom rolled over and, standing, headed for the door to the living room.

“Do you–clothes?” Ranney suggested.

“Right.”

Grabbing the light throw from the foot of the bed, he wrapped it around his waist. It was a little too big to tie, so he held it bunched in one hand as he stalked toward the commotion.

After a moment’s pause, there was a faint clicking sound, followed by a female voice that started in a reasonable register but ended up closer to a shriek:

“Hello, I’m sorry, I–oh, my God–is my mother in here?”

Ranney had thought she was done with being woken out of a sound sleep and racing to comfort a screaming child, but apparently not.

Staggering across the carpet, she stepped on the jersey she’d been wearing and scooped it up.

She was still yanking it down when she rounded the corner and came face to face with Nessa, who immediately covered her eyes with her hands and spun away.

“Mom, put some clothes on!”

“I’m wearing clothes, Nessa.”

“Well, it’s obvious that you weren’t a minute ago. That’s not even yours!”

“Actually, it is.”

“And you! ” She didn’t need to say his name for Tom to know who she meant. Sheepishly, he pulled the throw closer around him and retreated.

“Nessa, what are you doing here? How did you know where I was? Is anything wrong?”

“Is anything WRONG?”

“Okay, let’s calm down. There must be a coffee maker here someplace, I’ll make some.”

“We are not going to sit around here having coffee like I didn’t just catch you two having SEX!” Nessa’s voice shook with disgust.

“You didn’t catch us having sex, Ness, stop it.

What are you doing here?” Undeterred, Ranney had moved to the kitchen and was opening doors, hoping for something better than a K-cup.

This was not an ordinary hotel room, and behind the third door she opened was a vacuum-sealed bag of beans, a Fellow grinder, and a drip pot.

She set some water on the stove to boil.

“Really? You’re just both sleeping in the same bed to save on hotel laundry, like, environmental activism or something?”

“Nessa, why are you here?”

“Because you’ve obviously had some kind of a mental breakdown and you’re putting your job and everything you’ve worked so hard for–including everyone’s respect–at risk!”

Taking a deep breath, Ranney held it for a few seconds while the coffee grinder whirred.

When it stopped, she said in the most level tone she could muster, “Don’t you think that’s a little over the top?

Mental breakdown? I’ve been dealing with the same array of transportation problems that we all encounter, that’s all.

Maybe a few more than usual. I’ll be at the event tomorrow, no harm done. ”

Nessa looked around pointedly, her eyes narrowing when they returned to her mother’s face. “Never once have I ever had a flight cancellation or a rental car screwup and ended up in a room like this one.”

“Well,” Ranney returned, clearing her throat, “be that as it may, I’m still on the job and tomorrow everything will be back to what passes for normal at Wedding Pros.”

“We’ll see about that,” Nessa muttered darkly. “Claire’s having a fit, and Nilly is not happy. And you know that when Nilly’s not happy, nobody’s happy. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

The water boiled and Ranney began the pour-over, full-blown panic pouring through her as she struggled to find an answer. “It’s complicated.”

"Um, that's an understatement.”

“Some other problems came up, besides Charlie’s broken arm. And I needed to help solve them.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Wedding party-related.”

“I would have helped you with that, why didn’t you ask me?”

“You’re engaged, it wasn’t something you could fix. Anyway, you weren’t exactly in a helpful mood when the problem arose.”

“And it turns out I was right!” Nessa waved her hand in the general direction of the bedroom. “What do you mean, I couldn’t fix it because I’m engaged? What does Matt have to do with your unprofessional behavior? You’re not answering any of my questions.”

Unprofessional behavior. Ouch.

Conveniently for Ranney, the doorbell rang. And rang, and rang–someone was standing outside punching it over and over, and it probably wasn’t housekeeping.

“For the love of God!” Tom bellowed from the other room. “It’s nearly three o’clock in the morning!” He came charging out of the bedroom and headed for the entry, but this time he was wearing the white robe provided by the hotel.

He peered through the peephole in the door. “Chunk? What the hell..?”

This was followed by the sound of the metal locks flipping.

By the time the door swung open, Ranney and Nessa were standing behind Tom, identical expressions of disbelief on their faces.

There in the hallway, as indicated, was Charlie, wearing a complicated kind of sling over his hospital gown.

Fortunately, he had managed to pull on his jeans underneath, so the open-in-the-back gown would only reveal bare skin to his waist. Presumably it was Ani who had helped him get dressed; she was now standing behind him, her dark eyes peering around his shoulder, looking none too comfortable.

“Ducky! At last!” Charlie was swaying slightly from side to side but he seemed to be in very high spirits for nearly three a.m. “Duck, what are we doing here? We’re supposed to be out on the stream, enjoying our last weeks of bachelor freedom, before I settle down to a lifetime of marital bliss with this gorgeous Spanish angel.

” Reaching around with his good arm, Charlie pulled Ani in for a long, deep kiss, but when he let her go, he winced in pain.

“She’s going to make a hell of a countess someday. Mind if we come in?”

Tom stepped back, opening the door wider. “I think you’d better.”

“Hullo, you were on the plane with Tom,” Charlie said to Ranney. “I see you’re a rugby fan, well done.” He kissed Nessa on both cheeks. “Hullo, darling. Good job tracking these two down.”

By now, he was far enough into the suite to appreciate his surroundings, and the view. He whistled.

“Much nicer than that bloody hospital room I’ve been stuck in–well, not literally bloody, there was very little blood, actually,” he chuckled, enjoying his own joke. “As hospitals go.”

“‘Good job tracking us down?’” Ranney echoed, rounding on her daughter but keeping her voice low. “Is this some kind of scavenger hunt? Do you win a prize for getting here first?”

“What? No! Of course not, I–” Nessa began defensively, but something distracted her. “What’s that on your hand?”

Damn. This wasn’t supposed to happen, or at least, not like this.

“It’s… nothing. It was a joke, I forgot to take it off. I–” She fumbled with the ring, trying to slide it off, make it disappear.

Nessa grabbed her hand and took a closer look. “That’s not a joke, it’s real gold!” All other conversation had ceased now, as Nessa’s voice rose. “Oh my God, he’s wearing one, too!”

Charlie and Ani’s eyes slid to Tom’s left hand. Even Tom looked down at it.

“What is going on here?” Nessa’s voice was pitched lower than a screech but not by much. “This cannot be what it looks like–you don’t even know each other–you’re, like, twenty years older than he is!” She added accusingly, “You told me you don’t even like British accents!”

Like spectators at a tennis match, three pairs of eyes bounced back to Ranney, shocked at the unthinkable revelation.

“They’ve grown on me,” Ranney shot back.

“So you are hooking up with him! Or… Mom, you didn’t really marry him, right?”

Silence.

“Right? I mean, I’m your daughter , you wouldn’t do that without telling me first, right? ” Her voice broke.

“Absolutely right,” Tom broke in, catching Ranney's eye with a glance that both helped and hurt. “It’s just a silly joke, nothing permanent, no harm done. Sort of a situational joke–Las Vegas, you see?”

“And what’s been going on in there? ” Nessa nodded in the direction of the master bedroom. "Role playing?”

“Coming from someone whose upcoming marriage started off with a one-night stand, that seems a bit judgmental,” Ranney said tartly, and Nessa had the grace to blush.

“It’s not like we invited you here. You knocked on the door.

And you’re not twelve years old–you know perfectly well what’s been going on in there, and it’s none of your business. ”

Nessa’s eyes filled with tears and she shook her head from side to side a few times, as if she couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Then she spun around and was gone before anyone could stop her.

“Nessie, wait!” Ranney called, using her baby nickname.

“Don’t call me that!” was the last thing they heard before the door slammed shut.

“It’s been a really long day,” Ranney said softly. With an apologetic shrug, she walked away, shutting the bedroom door gently behind her.