Burned Deep (Burned 1)

Mumbling an apology, I wrenched free from the semi-embrace of a twenty something with spiky blond hair and an intricately designed diamondback snake tattoo slithering up his neck. A lascivious glint lit his brown eyes, pricking my nerves. He spared a glimpse at Kyle and the others, then asked me, “Looking for real men to party with, sweetheart?”

The entire atmosphere turned tense and everything that followed happened quickly.

Kyle came immediately to my defense, saying in a suddenly sharp tone, “Back off, pal.” His chin lifted, his chest puffed out.

Snake-tat guy grabbed me again, more forcefully than I thought he’d intended. I winced as he tugged me to him. “Doesn’t look like she was interested in leaving with you, pal.”

Three groomsmen instantly threw off their jackets, fueled by tequila.

“No fighting!” I cried out, panic shooting through me. I’d never get another planning

gig in this town if I delivered a bloodied bridal party to the event lawn—the Delfinos would make sure of it.

The darkly handsome stranger swooped in, pushing Kyle to the side with a solid palm to the pecs—clearly agitating Kyle further, because his fists balled at his sides. A breath later, the stranger had the spiky-haired blond by the forearm.

“Hands off,” he all but growled.

Alarm flashed in the blond’s eyes at the sudden and vehement reaction from the intruder—and likely his commanding presence. Snake-tat guy released me instantly. Even his friends backed off.

The stranger twisted the blond’s arm and jerked it behind his back before slamming his shoulder to the table, as if freeing me wasn’t justice enough.

“Jesus, Bax,” the salt-and-pepper-haired companion grumbled, a hint of admiration mixing with his shock as he scrambled to collect the papers getting crinkled.

In a deep, rough voice, the man called Bax said, “Doesn’t look like she’s interested in leaving with you, either.”

Air rushed from my lungs. I stood so close to him, I felt his heat, inhaled his expensive-smelling cologne, absorbed his raw intensity. He glanced my way, his green eyes entrancing, though something foreboding edged the rims of those brilliant irises.

A scowl darkened his visage even more, turning him dangerous in a recklessly thrilling way. I wasn’t the reckless sort, yet a scintillating sensation flared within me.

His gaze remained connected with mine as he spoke to the spiky-haired guy. “I think you owe the lady an apology.”

“I didn’t know she came with a bodyguard,” the blond ground out. Craning his neck to look around the broad-shouldered man caging him, he acridly added, “Sorry, sweetheart.” The stranger released him and stepped away. The blond skulked off with his friends, muttering “Asshole” under his breath.

“Come on, Ari,” Sean said as he gently took my hand—the first wholly innocent gesture in this incident.

Yet I recoiled again, breaking the trancelike gaze with emerald eyes I would never forget, and hissed out, “Everybody stop touching me.” My heart thundered as anxiety mounted.

I sidestepped the group. A concerned Grace asked, “Are you okay? I called Security.”

“We’re good—I’m good,” I told her. “Sorry for the trouble. That was all my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t. I called Security on Tattoo Guy,” she said. “He shouldn’t have grabbed you. Looked like it hurt.”

“It’s fine,” I lied. My arm smarted.

She whispered, “Who’s Dark and Dangerous?”

Clearly, she meant the gorgeous green-eyed stranger. “I don’t know.”

“Interesting,” she murmured. “He’s been watching you since you made your grand entrance. He is smokin’ hot. The best man is damn good-looking, too. Lucky you, all the way around.”

Heat burst on my cheeks. “Not interested,” I said, trying to compose myself as the groomsmen paid up and I herded them toward the door.

My pulse still jumped. Not just from the sexy stranger—and the way he’d put an immediate stop to what could have been a disastrous altercation. Competing with the excitement he elicited was a bit of apprehension, because I didn’t like anyone moving in too close. These guys bumped against my boundaries. Only one of them hadn’t touched me, or tried to.

“Relax, Ari,” a groomsman scoffed as he shrugged into his jacket, not knowing the true source of my consternation. “Weddings never start on time.”

“Mine do.” Feeling that smoldering gaze again, I turned around. The stranger stood facing me—an impressive six-foot-two or-three inches tall. Muscular. Strong. Powerful. Formidable.