Wedding Vows: Just Married: The Ex Factor / What Happens in Vegas... / Another Wild Wedding Night

“No. Not exactly.” And she realized that her feelings about Dex were far too confusing to share with anyone. Instead she said, “That CPA e-mailed me. He said he enjoyed our coffee date.”

“That’s great, right?”

“Yes, I suppose. I didn’t think it was a very exciting date though.”

“Give the guy a chance. You said yourself he was nice.”

“He was. You’re right.” And maybe a nice man was exactly what she needed to keep her thoughts off a certain architect. “I should suggest dinner or a movie or something.”

“That’s the spirit. And he’s not the only single man in Philly, you know. Who else is out there?”

She glanced up and put a hand over her mouth. “I keep forgetting to check the Web site.”

Unfortunately for her, when she got back to her office for her rescheduled meeting with Sophie, Dexter had come along. For some reason she’d assumed he’d have enough tact not to show. Seemed she’d been wrong. She refused to blush when she met Dex’s knowing gaze.

“Sophie, it’s nice to see you again. What did you think of the bridal salons I suggested?”

“Fantastic. I found my dress. Look, I brought you a picture,” the woman gushed pulling out her digital camera. She’d chosen a perfect dress for her figure. Sleek and simple.

“Very classy,” Karen said approvingly. “And for the bridesmaids?”

“I went with blue. It’s Andrew’s favorite color and he’s not here to help choose anything, so at least I’m keeping him in mind.”

“That’s nice. And it’s a good blue for a winter wedding.” She consulted her notes. “Let’s see, you’re getting married at your aunt’s house in mid February.”

“Closest Saturday to Valentine’s Day we could find.”

“That’s sweet,” she said in her professional tone, controlling her gag reflex with an effort. “In my experience the men don’t get too involved in the wedding details.”

“Except for Dexter here. I don’t know what I’d have done without him.”

She sent him a thin smile and he responded with a wink. Suddenly he rose. “I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I like this desk, Karen,” he said, walking toward it, standing in the very spot he’d stood when she’d so wantonly let herself be carried away by lust.

Heat suffused every inch of her body from her toes to the roots of her hair. She watched, unable to think of a thing to say as he ran his hands along the edge of the curved wood, caressing the grain the way he’d caressed her skin. “It’s a lovely piece. Classy.” He leaned against it. “Seems sturdy, too.”

He must know it was since it had held up under the strain of them having sex on it.

“I didn’t know you were interested in antiques, Dex,” Sophie said, thankfully looking at the desk and not at Karen who was forcing her blush down. The curse of being a redhead.

“I like classics,” he said.

“Well, we all do,” Karen interjected. “And I think your dress is absolutely classic. Now, I was talking to the florist this morning about you. I know you were keen on a garden theme even though we’ll need to be indoors. He’s a genius. He’s suggesting pots of forced blooms and he wonders if you want to think about a four-seasons garden. His idea is that love is eternal, like an ever-blooming garden.”

“Oh, what a fantastic idea. I love that,” Sophie exclaimed. “And do you think he could include a few Italian plants since Andrew’s family is Italian and he’s been spending so much time in Italy?”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Karen said. “If you like the idea, he’ll draw something up for you to look at.”

Dexter didn’t say much more during the meeting, but he didn’t seem able to keep his hands off her desk.

She could barely concentrate. And the fact that Dexter knew exactly what he was doing to her, only made her more furious.

9

CHELSEA CAME INTO Karen’s office with the spinach salad she hadn’t had time to pick up and a formidable looking woman in a power suit and a riot of black curls framing a face dominated by big blue eyes and a square, “don’t make me hit you” jaw.

“Do you have a minute if I bribe you with food?” Chelsea asked.

“Of course. Not that I consider salad food.”

“You should have let me pack you a dessert.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Chelsea shot her a frustrated glance that suggested she’d soon be hearing some story about how fat was the new thin. But for now they weren’t alone so she figured she was safe.

“This is David’s sister, Sarah. She’s getting married.”

“Congratulations.” Karen smiled politely but it was hard to hold herself back from outright laughing. Most brides came in looking excited, or nervous or blissed out on love.

Sarah seemed irritated about her impending bridalhood.

“Thanks. I’ll be honest. I don’t have a lot of time to plan a wedding, I’ve got a busy law practice, but I don’t want a lot of hearts and flowers. And I won’t be wearing white.”

Fortunately, Chelsea had warned her about Sarah. The woman was a classic type A, an aggressive up-and-coming divorce lawyer who’d fallen for a school guidance counselor and part-time yoga teacher. Karen loved opposites-attract couples, but she had a feeling this was going to be one of the weirder pairings that made her job so much fun.

“You can wear whatever you want,” Karen assured her. “Though popular tradition that wearing white is a symbol of purity isn’t correct. The Greeks wore white as a color of celebration.”

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm. But the Western white wedding gown was popularized when Queen Victoria wore white to her wedding. At the time, only rich women could afford a dress they’d never wear again. Now, of course, any bride can wear whatever she wants.”

“That’s interesting, but I’m still not wearing white.”

“That’s fine.”

She wondered if she really wanted to work with someone whose every sentence sounded like a barked order.

She glanced at Chelsea, wondering how she felt getting stuck with this woman for a sister-in-law. If she and David ever actually got married.

But she was surprised yet again when Chelsea said, “Sarah’s been my best friend since I moved here when I was fourteen.”

Sarah’s face softened completely when she smiled, Karen noted with relief, which it did now, in an impish grin. “You only hung out with me cause you had the hots for my big brother.”

“Not true.” She opened the takeout container and handed Karen a fork. “Not completely true. Go ahead and eat, I know you’re starving.”

“Yeah, please, don’t mind me,” Sarah said.

“I can’t take notes and eat at the same time,” Karen argued.

“Look, I don’t think you’re going to need a lot of notes. You probably won’t even agree to plan this crazy wedding.”

Once more she sent Chelsea a puzzled glance.

“Why wouldn’t I want to plan your wedding?”

Sarah assumed her irritated expression once more. “It was my boyfriend’s idea. He wants to recreate our first date.”

Now Karen understood the irritation. She was beginning to feel some herself.

“You two went skydiving?”

“No.”

“Hang gliding? Spelunking? Snorkeling? Some activity that took place underground, undersea or in the air?”

Sarah’s eyes grew round. “Undersea? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. I’m planning a scuba wedding for next summer as we speak.”

“And don’t forget the circus wedding,” Chelsea reminded her. “I told you, Karen can do anything. She’s amazing.”

“Well, I never wanted a spectacle. I want to spend my life with the guy and that’s it. I must really love him to let him talk me into this.”

“Maybe you should tell us what it is?”

Sarah slapped her forehead with her open hand. A modest diamond twinkled on her ring finger. “I’m a serious person. Hardworking. A divorce lawyer. I have a certain reputation around town for toughness and smarts.” She put down her hand and stared at Karen. “If news of this gets around, I’ll be a laughingstock.” She glared.

But Karen was pretty tough, too, and also had a reputation to upkeep. She adopted Sarah’s drilling gaze. “Where did you have your first date?”

“I must have been insane,” she said, more to herself, Karen thought, than to anyone else in the room. “I must still be insane.”

From imagining feats of derring-do, her mind moved to seedier possibilities. If they’d done something sexually kinky or engaged in some illegal activity on their first date then she really didn’t want any part of it.

She was a little firmer this time when she asked, “There are some weddings I won’t plan. Where did he take you on your first date?”

As though admitting a terrible secret the woman said, “The zoo.”

Once again, Karen had to struggle not to laugh at her newest potential client. “The zoo? Here in Philadelphia?”

“Yes,” came the sulky reply. “Mike is this weird alternative guy. He adopted a zoo animal as part of their conservation program and he took me to the zoo on our first date to meet little Mikey.”

“I’m guessing this is an opposites-attract kind of relationship.”

“Oh, you’ve got that right. I’m a classic Type A.” Like Karen might not have figured that out yet. “Mike’s all Zen about everything. Doesn’t own a microwave, only has one clock in his house. He’s a high-school counselor and he teaches yoga.”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m guessing he’s great in bed,” Karen said before she could censor herself.

To her relief Sarah laughed, a husky, earthy laugh. “Oh, he is. It’s the only reason I put up with him.”

“Huh,” her old friend said. “What she means is, he’s the only guy who’s ever put up with her.”

That laugh came again. “True.”

“Well, I can tell you that a wedding at the zoo is easy to arrange, it’s a popular spot for weddings and if it means something to the two of you then you should do it.”

She took a shaky breath that Karen suspected was more about the idea of getting married at all than about the venue. “All right, then. Let’s do it.”

Karen began to take notes. “And I’m sure you know that Chelsea is the best caterer in town.”

“Totally.”

“And Laurel will do you an amazing cake.”

“I’m not having a cake with zoo animals on it,” she protested. “It’s bad enough getting married at the zoo without having a wedding cake that should be at a kids’ birthday party.”

“Laurel would never be so boring as to put a zoo animal on a cake. You can meet with her to discuss your needs.”

“No, no. You do it. Honestly, I want to leave everything in your hands.”

After that it was easy. Sarah was businesslike, knew how many people were coming, had chosen several possible dates in the summer and very clearly liked to delegate. To Karen, that made her close to a dream client.

“I am so excited,” Chelsea said at one point, her eyes shining with emotion.

The usually tough Sarah softened immediately. She leaned over to grip Chelsea’s hand. “Me, too. And when you and David get married, we won’t only be best friends. We’ll be sisters.”

Would they? Karen couldn’t help but wonder.

Chelsea seemed genuinely excited about seeing her best friend get married before she could drag the woman’s older brother to the altar.

Not for the first time, Karen wondered what was wrong with David to keep an amazing woman like Chelsea waiting.

He’d almost lost her once through his own stupidity. Karen was worried he was about to repeat his mistake.

Mistakes. There seemed to be a lot of those in the air.

Chelsea’s cell phone rang and, after checking the call display, she backed out of the room. “It’s Anton. I’d better get back. Come visit me when you’re done with Karen,” she said to Sarah, and with a wave she was gone.

It didn’t take long for Karen to extract all the information she needed for now. Then, on a hunch, she said, “Can I ask your professional opinion about something?”

“Sure. I can’t give free legal advice, but I can give you information if I’ve got it.”

The second Sarah had mentioned being a divorce lawyer, she’d felt the urge to ask her a couple of questions. But now she had the woman’s attention, she wasn’t sure how to begin. Finally, she plunged in.

“In your experience, how many men who cheat on their wives claim to be innocent?”

Sudden sympathy clouded the clear eyes. “Ninety-five percent. You can catch them with a naked woman in bed and their pants around their ankles and they’ll still say—” here she shook her index finger in Karen’s direction and lowered her voice “—I did not have sexual relations with that woman.”

Karen nodded, sadly. “That’s what I thought.”

10

OKAY, KAREN DECIDED, at the end of the day, when, no matter how busy she’d been, she’d always found time to relive the things she and Dexter had done on her desktop.

Enough was enough. Dexter was a player, a Casanova, a Lothario. Of course he was great in bed, he’d had plenty of experience. Some of it, she had to remind herself, while they were married. She’d begun to feel a spark of hope that maybe she’d been wrong about him, but Sarah the divorce lawyer had pretty much killed that notion.

Just because she felt a connection didn’t mean there was one.

She was so angry with herself for falling like a ton of bricks the minute he came onto her. She’d assumed that once he’d had her again he’d disappear, but he’d shown up at Sophie’s planning meeting, teasing her about that desk. He seemed still to be sniffing around her.

If she didn’t care about him even after all this time maybe she could go along with it, have a fling with her ex. She wouldn’t be the first woman ever to do so. But she’d worked long and hard to rebuild her self-esteem after it had been shattered by the man she’d loved and she wasn’t about to compromise her hard-won peace again. Not for some cheap sex and a few orgasms, intense though they might be.

Gritting her teeth, she made a date with her laptop. She’d spend the evening going through all the listings at Plenty of Phillys. She had some messages to answer, some new profiles to check out.

When she got home that night, after a punishing thirty minutes at Curves, she zapped a low-cal dinner in the microwave which tasted so uninteresting it felt like a complete waste of four hundred calories, then showered and decided that if she was going to do this online dating thing then she’d better put a little effort into it.

Wrapping her towel around her she padded into her bedroom. She’d bought the town house after her marriage ended and she’d gone out of her way to make her bedroom as feminine as possible. Decorated in soft pinks and creams with a raw silk bedspread and white-and-gold French Provincial furniture, the room all but sported a No Boys Allowed sign on the door.

She opened her closet and tried to work out what one wore to go trolling for men using the Internet. She finally decided on a black cashmere V-neck sweater and black stretch exercise pants that were the most comfortable slacks she’d ever owned.

She let her hair dry naturally, curling down her back as it did when she didn’t ruthlessly straighten and style it, and then she poured herself a glass of wine and logged onto the dating site.

There were a couple of men who’d sent her expressions of interest but she didn’t like the appearance of either of them. Then she decided she’d better look around and see if anyone in her general age range caught her interest. She was clicking listlessly through the offerings when her doorbell rang.

Her video display showed her Dexter waiting at her front door with all the assurance of a man who knows he’s welcome.

Wrong.

She ignored him and padded back to her couch.

Her cell phone rang.

She picked it up. “Yes?”

“I know you’re home,” said the all-too-familiar voice. “I checked. Your car’s in your spot.”

“Hmm, could there be a reason why I might be home and not answering my door? Oh, wait, there is. I don’t want to see you.”

“I came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” she blurted, much too fast for someone who didn’t want to see the man. She couldn’t believe he was leaving.

“I have to go back to New York for a couple of weeks, but I’ll be back.”

“Oh.” Fine. It was fine. She’d managed without him for years, she didn’t need him now.

“Could I come in? I want to talk to you.”

Reluctantly, she let him in. Was he going to try to seduce her? One for the road? She couldn’t believe he’d be that crass, and yet she must have a few crass bones in her body too for the idea didn’t repel her. Maybe he was bad for her in a whole bunch of ways, but the sex was still so good it wasn’t fair.

However, he didn’t rush in and jump her. Instead, after he’d come in and removed his coat and shoes, he shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans and seemed a little unsure of himself. In her feminine space, he seemed more than usually masculine and since she wasn’t wearing her heels he towered above her.

“Would you like to sit down?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Can I get you something? Some wine?”

“If it’s open.”

She went into her kitchen and poured him a glass.

Her body felt tingly and the scent of her body lotion rose as her skin heated from the pImages** flashing through her brain. Good thing she’d showered and freshened up, she thought even as she tried to remind herself of all the reasons why having sex with the hottie in her living room was a bad, bad idea.

When she’d run out of lecture, she walked back in to find him sitting, not where she’d left him, but in her chair. And, horror of horrors, he was staring at her laptop screen with undisguised fascination.

He glanced up. “Are you kidding me? Online dating?”

“What’s wrong with online dating?”

“Nothing, I guess. I thought…” He seemed to run out of steam and she didn’t press him to finish his sentence. Instead she handed him the wine.

With a brief word of thanks, he took a sip and then put the glass down so he could devote his full attention to her computer. How could she have been so stupid as to have left the thing open for him to find?

Of course, anyone with any integrity wouldn’t have snooped. But as she well knew, integrity wasn’t Dexter’s strong suit. If she made a big deal about it, he’d only laugh at her, so she decided to humor him. If he wanted to mock her and her efforts to find a nice guy, then that was his problem.

She steeled herself while he continued reading. Until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Why are you reading the profiles of single men in the city?”

“I’m not. I’m reading yours.”

She rose. Enough already. She’d get that computer out of his hands if she had to wrestle him to the ground for it.

Finally he glanced up and shook his head. “I can’t believe your profile. You missed all the best things about yourself.”

That wasn’t at all what she’d expected and he didn’t appear to be teasing. She faltered. Puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

His expression was impossible to read. “Because no one knows you the way I do.”

11

“ARE YOU SUGGESTING I should get you to write my online dating profile?” she asked, wondering if she could have misunderstood him.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my ex-husband. It seems a little unorthodox.”

“Like I said, nobody knows you better, or knows all your good qualities better than I do.” He grinned at her. “Of course, I know all your not-so-good qualities, too, but I’ll keep those to myself.”

“This seems like a really bad idea.”

“Come on, let me take a crack at it. If you don’t like what I write, you can delete it.”

Intrigued in spite of her better judgment, she said, “What would you say?”

She had her legs curled under her, sitting in a corner of the couch. He picked up the laptop and brought it over, sitting beside her. His thighs brushed her toes and she felt a zing of connection from nothing more than the denim warmed by his body heat shifting against her foot.

He didn’t move away.

And she didn’t pull her foot out of the way.

He typed. She was certain he was correcting her height, knocking her down to size, but when she couldn’t stand hearing the tap-tap-tap of keys, and watching the concentration on his face as he typed, she finally leaned over to check his progress.

What he wrote was, To know Karen you have to be patient. She’s outgoing and funny, has a laugh that makes people join in and the minute you meet her you feel like you’ve known her forever. His fingers paused and she waited, silent, until they resumed. But to know the real Karen, the one behind the fun-loving social creature, takes work. She doesn’t show her true self to many people, but it’s worth waiting for. She’s gorgeous, with clear blue-green eyes that make you think you’re on the bottom of the ocean.

“Oh, Dex,” she whispered, but he ignored the interruption.

Her skin’s Irish fair, with a few freckles that remind you of the kid inside her. Her skin tastes like rain-washed apples, and she smells like cherry blossoms.

“Do I?” she murmured. It was like reading a love letter while it was being written, both romantic and the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. Those long artistic architect’s fingers moved with precision over the keys, barely hesitating, as though all this had been composed in his mind and it was a simple matter to type it all out.

“You do. Stop interrupting.” He thought for a moment and continued.

Her hair is a rich red, it’s long and curly, thick enough that you could wrap it around your hands like rope, but when she’s making love to you, looking up with those big clear bottom-of-the-ocean eyes, her hair seems to catch fire, sparking flame. Hot and cold. Cold and hot.

“I’m not,” she said, feeling breathless.

“You are.”

And when she’s naked her body is a glory. Breasts so rich and full you can fill your hands with them. But go carefully, for they are sensitive to the touch.

She made a tiny sound in the back of her throat.

He took one hand off the keyboard, as though he were pausing to think, and ran it across her nipples, already pebbled inside her cashmere sweater. She sighed, rippling her body against him like a cat desperate for affection.

He turned his head, looking down at her with lust blazing in his eyes. She didn’t even think, simply pushed her computer off his lap and onto the couch, and then threw herself at him.

He caught her against him, crushing his mouth to hers, shoving his hands into the curling mass of hair tumbling around them, and began giving her what she needed.

Off came her sweater. Underneath it, she wore a sexy black camisole and, since she hadn’t expected company and had wanted to feel at her sexiest, she wore no bra.

He groaned when he realized this, running his hands over her, squeezing her breasts in the way he knew she liked, firm but not too hard, and never squeezing the nipples, which were exquisitely sensitive.

Instead he kissed them, suckled them, bringing her close to climax. She used to be embarrassed by how responsive her nipples were, but she’d learned to accept the easy pleasure. She leaned back, loving the feelings coursing through her body and the murmured appreciation from this man.

But she didn’t want this to be a quickie, like the desktop escapade. She wanted time to enjoy him, especially if he was going to be gone for a few weeks. This was her chance to savor him, and then she could figure out what she was going to do about her inconvenient passion once he was out of state.

So she rose, took his hand and pulled him toward her bedroom. She flipped on the bedside lamps, which cast a muted pink glow over everything. Except Dex, who somehow still managed to look masculine and commanding.

She wanted to see all of him, enjoy every inch of his body, so she slowly undressed him, pulling off his sweater, the T-shirt he wore beneath it.