Unwrapping the Best Man

I still, my eyes narrowing on him. ‘You think?’

‘You don’t?’

‘Yes, no, yes—Hell, I don’t know.’ I smooth an unsteady hand over my hair. I don’t like being unsure. I pride myself on being able to read people. I run a PR firm, for Pete’s sake, a very successful PR firm; I know people. But Jackson...

I feel my head shake. Why does he do this to me?

You know why... You like that he puts you on edge. You like the challenge. You like him...and you want a whole lot more.

And if Philip, a total outsider whose opinion isn’t tainted by his own feelings, thinks it’s mutual, then I’m not imagining it.

I just need Jackson to get over whatever’s stopping him.

Maybe it’s some weird big brother stance. He’s been my agony aunt more times than I can count. Not that he looks the part, but he is. He listens. He’s let me drown my sorrows at the bar, rant and rave about my over-protective family, celebrated my latest PR win, teased me over my outfits, my cheek, my flirtatious exploits.

But never has his facade cracked. Never has he hinted that he wants the same.

Until today...and it’s an opportunity I can’t let slip away.

‘Sorry, Philip, I just need to...’

I’m already walking in the direction of the exit and working out where to try first.

Where would I go if I were sexually frustrated to the extreme?

I smile. The idea of him being so hot for me that he’s had to take himself off is an aphrodisiac in itself.

If it were me, I’d go outside for air, to cool down. But then I’d be no more satisfied. The bedroom, however—there I’d be able to tend to my needs privately. The image of Jackson taking himself in hand has my smile widening, my lower body pulsating with carnal heat, and I realise, regardless of which way he’s gone, I’m the one needing air now. Because when I find him I want to be in control of this.

I want to be able to walk away with my head held high if he rejects me again.

And if he surrenders himself to it... Oh, yes, I want him to be the one who closes the deal. Who kisses me and seals our fate. I will seduce to a point, but I need to know both his body and mind are in the driving seat. I have no interest in regrets that come later, in backing him into a corner and having his body do all the talking.

I want him to want me, unreservedly.

I break out into the grand entrance hall and slow my stride, not wanting to draw attention or appear too eager in case he’s there.

Calm, collected, in control, I scan the vast room. A few guests stand before the fire burning in the he

arth sipping drinks and a couple are canoodling up against one of the ornate pillars supporting the imperial staircase above. Another couple are leaning precariously close to a freestanding floral arrangement that has three lit candles at its heart. I consider interrupting their full-on snog-fest before the lady’s hair catches fire, but I doubt they’d even hear me.

Wedding fever, it seems, is contagious. Maybe I’ve caught it too and that’s why I’m so on heat. Yeah, right. I want to laugh at the very idea as I scan the twin staircases and what I can see of the landing above. I know I’m like this because of the change in Jackson, the change that tells me I’m this close to getting what I’ve wanted for so long.

If only I can find him...

Rooms, or outside? My gut says the latter. I cross the entrance hall, my heels click-clacking against the gleaming parquet floor and drawing the eye of the doorman standing beside the impressive doorway.

‘Ma’am.’ He gives me a smile and I contemplate asking if he’s seen Jackson, but when I run through my description of him in my head it’s enough to keep me tongue-tied.

I’ll just go outside and look for myself.

I return his smile. ‘It’s rather warm in here. I think I need some air.’

‘Do you have a coat I can get for you?’

‘No need.’

It’s August and not exactly balmy this far north, not when you’re used to the city heat, but either Jackson isn’t out there, in which case I’ll be back soon, or he is, and I won’t be needing a coat to warm me.