Making It Last (Camelot 4)

“She’s great. But to be honest, she could be a total bitch and I’d still be happy to see him married.”

“Why, is he horribly ugly?”

He shook his head. “Nah, just horribly messed up.”

God. He was talking about Patrick.

No. No Patrick.

Jennifer didn’t want to think about Patrick or his suffering.

So what are you good for, Steve?

That was what she should say. Then he would reply with an innuendo-filled joke, and they’d be right back on track. They would get that table. Drink some more. She would take him back to the room.

That was what Tony wanted, wasn’t it? That was what he was looking for: some way to invite her to take that step with him. To give them a chance to start over so they could prove they had something between them, some real and important blaze of attraction that would exist even if they were Steve and Jennifer or Tom and Amanda or Adam and Colette.

If you want me, win me over, she thought.

Make me believe in you. In us.

Make me believe in myself.

“Marriage isn’t for everybody,” she said.

Which made Jennifer sound like the sort of woman who was pissed off at her neglectful husband, seeking revenge sex.

He leaned in. “If I were an indirect sort of man,” he said quietly, running one finger up her forearm. “If I were a subtle man.” His mouth was so close to hers, she could feel his breath.

“If you were the kind of man who can do more than work and fuck and cook a steak?”

“Right. If I were one of those kind of guys, what would I say next?”

“That depends.”

“What does it depend on?”

“Your intentions.”

He turned his eyes on her again, dark and knowing. “What if I told you my intention was to get you out of that dress as soon as I could manage it?”

Perfect.

Perfect question, perfect tone of voice, perfect heat in his eyes, and a perfectly delightful shiver down her perfectly bare back.

“Then I would be glad I took off my ring.”

He slid his hand down her spine, parking it on the same spot Jared had tried to occupy.

It felt as good as she’d hoped. Heavy, warm, just the right trigger to transform her excitement into arousal. Weight in her breasts. Heat between her legs.

Amber wanted to bask in it, but she stepped away. “You’re going to have to woo me some more first, Steve.”

That earned her a chagrined smile. “At least the drinks are free.”

“We already paid for them,” she corrected. Because the resort was all-inclusive. The illusion of free everything, when in fact you’d coughed up all the money in advance.

“How about I get you another drink, and then we grab that table?” Steve asked. “Would that suit you?”