Carried Away

2

TREVOR GRIPPED the steering wheel as if his life depended on it, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road and not the mirrored reflection of what was taking place in the back seat of his rental sedan.

Dear Lord, but that woman had curves on top of curves. He felt sweat bead up on his forehead and knew it had nothing to do with the summer humidity. What had he been thinking making her climb over that seat? She’d all but smothered his ear with…with body parts that hadn’t been rubbed against his ear in…well, maybe never. Not that he wasn’t an adventurous lover, or willing to be, but—Jesus, his ear felt like it was on fire. Good damn thing she hadn’t brushed up against anything else.

He still remembered the silky smooth feel of her legs under his hands. Of course, he’d been busy trying to ignore the combustible reaction she’d set off inside him when he’d pulled her half-naked, very warm and pliable body out of that bed. She’d draped herself over him like a warm blanket. Okay, so she’d been unconscious, but his body didn’t care about that!

Damn Kate and her stupid reunion scheme. He made the last turn and glanced in the rearview mirror as the church loomed into view. He was lucky he didn’t put the car in a ditch. Did she have any idea what she looked like in that dress? It fit like a second skin, and there was cleavage…everywhere.

This was a wedding, not Hugh Hefner’s latest bunny roundup. Had Kate really okayed that getup? Weren’t all eyes supposed to be on the bride? Because with all that exposed flesh in the front and her well-rounded backside being showcased just as outrageously, no warm-blooded male in his right mind was going to be looking anywhere else for the duration of the ceremony. Her shoulder-length hair was a wild swirl of brunette curls that would be a rat’s nest on any other woman, but coupled with those pouty lips and heavy-lidded, dark chocolate eyes…and that dress, she looked like sex incarnate.

Why in the hell would Kate allow herself to be upstaged like this? Or had she okayed the dress in hopes her pal would use hormone overload to win her ex-husband back? Of course, at the moment Trevor thought the man had been insane to let her get away in the first place.

“I just want you to know you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it,” she said, eyes flashing, smile a tad smug.

Okay, so maybe this Eric had been wiser than he gave him credit for. Vivian conjured all kinds of slinky, feline comparisons…including the sharp claws and teeth.

“Don’t pull any fast ones,” he warned, not that she could in that dress. He wasn’t sure how she was going to walk in it, much less run away.

He pulled up right in front of the church, parking behind the limo with Just Married painted on the rear window. The bridesmaids were probably already lined up, so she could just slip into the front and no one would know she was making a forced appearance. Kate could take it from there and he’d thankfully head to his place at the head of the chapel next to his buddy. He said a silent prayer for the pile of trouble Mike was about to marry. And a silent apology to Eric, as well. He’d never met the man, but he didn’t relish the reunion he was in for.

He patted his pocket as he unbuckled and got out, breathing a sigh of relief. Ring box was still there. An hour from now he’d be toasting the bride and groom and this whole ordeal would be over.

He went to open the back door, but Vivian had already swung it open and was trying to maneuver her way out. However, the snug fit of the dress was restricting her movement to the point that getting out without assistance would be mission impossible. He pushed her hands away—twice—and hauled her out.

“I can manage,” she ground out.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She made a face and he found himself stifling a smile. Definitely a handful. Several handfuls, in fact, he thought as he carefully set her on her tottering heels. His actions had caused her dress to roll dangerously high, well past her knees. The cut was so low in the front that she didn’t dare lean down to fix the hem for fear of spilling out of it.

Glaring at him, she simply motioned him to fix it. For some reason her autocratic, silent demand tweaked at him. “Do you require further assistance, ma’am?”

“You know damn well I do. It’s all your fault I’m even here, so the least you can do is make this horrid outfit as presentable as possible.”

Only years of intensive training saved him from laughing out loud. “So you didn’t pick this out yourself?”

She bared her teeth into what might pass for a smile. On a tiger. “Pull the hem down. Please.” This last was added as if under extreme duress.

And looking at the way her curves were strapped into way too little fabric, he realized she probably was. “Yes, ma’am.” He knelt in front of her and tried, really tried, not to notice the smooth expanse of leg in front of him, or how it had felt beneath his fingertips.

She twitched as he gingerly took hold of the thin fabric and tugged. She twitched again and made a strange gargling sound. No way was he lifting his head to check on her, however. “Be still. This thing isn’t giving.”

She snorted again, then snickered and finally swatted at him to stop. “Stop, stop, you’re killing me here.”

He did look up then. Big mistake. “Beg—” He had to clear his throat…and his vision of the bounty of cleavage in front of him. “Beg your pardon?”

“I’m ticklish, okay? And you’re being awfully damn polite for a kidnapper.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she talked over him. “Just leave the dress alone. It’s not like I’m going to have it on for very long.”

Perfectly happy to follow orders this go around, Trevor stood and eyed her, but thought it best not to respond to that last comment. But, oh, the lucky man who got to peel that dress off of her, he couldn’t help thinking. Providing he could find a way to keep her mouth shut, that is.

“Well, best to get this over with,” she said, but when she went to take a step, they both realized the dress wasn’t that flexible. Nor were the spiky heels that appeared wedged on her feet.

Trevor sighed, but time was wasting and Mike was probably getting a bit worried about his best man. He didn’t even want to think what shape Kate was in. So he did what he had to do. He scooped her up in his arms, ignored her squeal of protest—and the way her breasts all but heaved out of the front of the dress—and carried her up the stairs of the church.

“You are so going to regret this,” she said. “And if I weren’t so busy trying to breathe, I’d probably enjoy it.”

Trevor tapped the door of the church with his shoe and focused straight ahead. He really must have been overseas too long, because just the sweet pressure of her sequin-clad fanny against the front of his body was enough to make him very glad his dress uniform included a long jacket. He tapped the door with a bit more force.

Finally it cracked open, revealing a sea of melon sequins, teased hair and flower bouquets. Trevor was tempted to just shove her inside and make a run for it, but Kate emerged through the throng like a white-chiffon swan.

“Thank goodness! I was worried I’d lost my matron of honor and Mike’s best man!” She sounded giddy bordering on hysterical as the sequin-and-satin sea parted to allow him to enter. Kate’s giddiness dissolved the instant she spied the woman in his arms. “Who is that? Christy?” She raised glassy eyes to Trevor. “What’s going on here?”

“Christy?” Trevor repeated helplessly.

The woman in his arms smiled sweetly at him, and bent her fingers in a little wave. “That would be me.”

“But—Holy—” Trevor bit off the oath, conscious of his surroundings. He was usually able to control his temper; in fact his job demanded he keep his cool under the most trying circumstances. But his special ops training hadn’t prepared him for neurotic brides, AWOL bridesmaids…and sleeping beauties.

He set his jaw and carefully placed the woman in his arms on her feet. “I went to the address you provided and picked up—”

“Kidnapped,” Christy corrected.

“Picked up,” he repeated, “the one and only female resident, whom I naturally presumed to be Vivian, and brought her here as you requested.”

Kate immediately swung her tear-filled gaze to the woman wobbling next to him. He reached out to help steady her, but was glared into withdrawing his offer of assistance. Fine, he’d just leave them to it, then. Except he couldn’t. He’d brought her here and had refused to listen to any explanations on her part. At the very least he owed it to her to stand by until the situation was resolved.

“Why didn’t you tell him you weren’t Vivian?” Kate demanded, her bevy of bridesmaids watching the exchange as avidly as fans at a tennis match.

Christy folded her arms, then thought better of it when her chest came dangerously close to spilling forth. “I tried, believe me.”

But Kate was losing it completely and didn’t seem to hear. “And why are you wearing Vivian’s dress? I can’t let you go into the chapel dressed like that.”

Trevor had to bite off the surprising urge to smile when he saw Christy’s hackles all but rise off the back of her neck. Well, this should be good. He was guilty as all hell in this matter, but he’d make his apologies after the firestorm died down. In the meantime, Christy looked fully capable of delivering the speech about what happens when people intrude on other people’s lives. A lesson he needed to learn only once.

“Oh, I have no intention of going into that chapel. But your hired hound didn’t allow me the luxury of getting dressed before he kidnapped me from my bed. Or Vivian’s bed.” She waved a dismissive hand, making him duck or get smacked. “So I put on the only thing available.”

“Well, I’m very sorry you were dragged here unnecessarily, but I had no idea you were at Viv’s house. Where is Viv?” she demanded.

Now Christy’s eyes narrowed. “You must be crazy if you think I’m telling you that. If she wanted to be here and let you manipulate her life after you swore you wouldn’t, she’d be here. Trust me, it cost her plenty to walk away from her obligation to you, but when you went back on your word, I didn’t see any reason for her to keep her word.”

“You didn’t?” Kate took a step forward, but her dress prevented her from coming any closer. “You told her about Eric? How did you find out?”

“Eric happened to make the unfortunate assumption that I would back your little scheme and wanted me to help make sure Viv went to the reception. I, on the other hand, totally championed her desire to get away from the whole affair.” Christy immediately calmed down when Kate began to cry in earnest.

Trevor watched her exhale a weary sigh and for the first time noticed the fatigue clear in the depths of her dark eyes. The heavy-lidded eyes and puffy lips he’d attributed to a sort of exotic beauty were in fact signs of a bone-deep weariness, which made him feel like a complete heel. She had been sound asleep in the middle of the day for a good reason apparently. He, on the other hand, had no good reason for handling things as poorly as he had.

Christy took a wobbling step forward and placed a hand on Kate’s arm. “Listen, I know your heart was in the right place,” she said gently, “but you shouldn’t have interfered. I’m really sorry. I’m sure you two can patch this up when you get back from your honeymoon.” She rubbed Kate’s arm, surprising Trevor with her sincerity considering her own treatment today. “You have a man in there who loves you and wants to marry you,” she went on. “That’s what this day is all about. There will be time later to sort the rest out. Trust me.”

Kate sniffled. “You think she’ll forgive me?”

Christy nodded confidently and gave her a little nudge, almost falling over when Kate smiled and moved away from her toward the door to the chapel at the same moment.

Trevor’s quick reflexes saved Christy from diving facefirst into Kate’s train.

“I’m really sorry about the misunderstanding,” Kate called out over her shoulder.

Christy just waved her off, her smile evaporating as soon as she turned to face Trevor. “Shouldn’t you be inside helping your buddy get married?” She eyed his hand on her arm, then looked up at him.

“That was nice, what you just did for her. She didn’t deserve the kindness and neither do I. But I’d like to try and—”

“Listen, save the apologies until after the ceremony. You can grovel when you drive me home on your way to the reception, okay?”

Trevor didn’t know whether to laugh or swear. She’d handled this a lot better than most women would, and though he felt like a total ass and planned to tell her so, he suddenly found himself in no hurry to leave her. “Where will you be?”

She smiled dryly. “Leaning on whatever wall you prop me up against.”

“Maybe I can find you something more suitable to wear?”

The organ music paused, then made them both jump as it suddenly resumed with the thundering opening strains of the bridal march. “No time for that. Get in there and do your thing. I’ll be fine.”

Trevor felt even worse that she was being such a good sport about this. She must have read his mind, because her smile brought back those feline comparisons…the ones with bared teeth and claws.

“However, if you come back to find me sleeping standing up, it’s on your head if you wake me again. And you already have quite enough on your head at the moment, if you know what I mean. I hope you grovel as well as you kidnap.”

“I’ve never had to grovel before, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something.” He helped her away from the throng of bridesmaids queuing up to go inside the chapel, over to a far corner, away from the front door, as well. “Are you sure—”

“I’m sure,” she cut in, eyes already drooping shut.

“What if you took off the shoes? Would that—”

“They’re strapped on. Just go,” she said, not bothering to open her eyes.

He should. He knew that. But he really didn’t want to. “Christy—”

“Please,” she ordered.

He had no idea where the impulse came from, or why he gave in to it. God knew his impulses had already caused enough problems today. And he’d thought civilian life would be easier! But he was already reaching for the loose tendrils of hair that clung to her cheeks and pushing them back.

Her eyes flew open at the feel of his fingers brushing against her cheek. “What are you doing?”

He grinned then and enjoyed the way her pupils shot wide and her throat worked. “Wishing we’d met under just about any other circumstances.” Before she could say anything to make him regret that little announcement, he gave her a sharp salute. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.” And headed down the side hallway toward the altar door.

3

CHRISTY TRIED to doze, but she couldn’t get those blue eyes out of her mind. Why did he have to go and touch her like that anyway? Despite what her hormones thought, she was really fully prepared to not like the guy. After what he’d put her through, how hard should that be?

She squirmed and shifted her weight what little she could without tipping over. This dress was a pain to be sure, but the heels were instruments of torture that would make the Marquis de Sade weep with pleasure. She, on the other hand, just wanted to weep. She wished now she’d agreed to let—She realized she didn’t even know his name!

The organ came to life again, making her wince. But it was only when the chapel doors were pushed wide to allow the newly married couple to emerge that she thought about exactly what would happen next. The bridesmaids and groomsmen would follow…and then every single person in the church would come out behind them. Right past her. In this dress.

She looked frantically around for some sort of camouflage, but knew one step would send her sprawling. Why hadn’t she thought this through before letting whatever his name was leave her here, propped against the wall like some party favor blow-up doll? Maybe he’d realize it and as soon as he came through the door with the maid of honor—Except there was no maid of honor. So she had no idea where he was in the ensemble at this point.

Kate and Mike emerged through the doors just then in a cloud of white chiffon and flowers. They only had eyes for each other, and even as Christy did her best to become one with the wall, she couldn’t ignore the lump that rose in her throat. She was happy for them, just as she’d been happy for Vivian three years before.

And look where that had ended up, her inner voice mocked. She only hoped Mike had the fortitude to put up with Kate. God, did she sound like a cynical old maid or what? She wasn’t that bad, was she? She was only twenty-eight for heaven’s sake. Hardly over the hill. How can you ever marry if you never date? Her mother’s oft-repeated words echoed inside her head. She’d never paid attention to them, knowing her mother would only go from wanting weddings to wanting grandbabies, and she was in no hurry to do either.

But she was twenty-eight. With thirty on the horizon. And no prospects. The bridesmaids started out the door and Christy shrank even farther back, knowing the assembled guests were next, praying they’d keep their eyes straight ahead. She didn’t want prospects, she told herself. She had a demanding job she loved and if someone came along who demanded her attention in the same way, fine. But that hadn’t happened. So what if logic dictated she had to actually be looking in order to meet someone? She certainly wasn’t going to hunt down a guy just because all her friends were getting married.

They were also getting divorced, she reminded herself. Well, Vivian had anyway. And if there had ever been a couple who seemed meant for one another, it was those two. And yet, there they were, miserable and alone. Why should she be in any hurry to become another statistic?

She was actually doing the wise thing, focusing on her own life, her career and not searching for love. If love wanted her attention, it would just have to find her.

“You ready to go?”

His deep voice vibrated just behind her ear, so low and sexy it sent shivers of awareness throughout her entire, shrink-wrapped body. Okay, so she wasn’t looking for love, but an afternoon of mindless sex was sure sounding pretty good at the moment. And oh, did he sound good. Better than good. He sounded like—

Horrified at the sudden direction of her thoughts, she stiffened, which immediately lost her the support of the wall…and pitched her directly into the support of his lean, hard body.

He immediately folded her against him, steadying them both, but rather than stand her back upright, he scooped her into his arms.

“No!” she rasped, looking frantically about, certain they were drawing stares. But the crowd was pushing as one out the front doors, and before she could protest further, she was being whisked away, down the side hallway, mercifully out of sight. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, if a bit breathlessly. That last part was due to the dress cutting off her air supply, not because of the feel of his body pressed against her. She was certain of it.

He put her down near the door to the rear parking lot of the church. “Wait here.”

He was so close, his body felt so nice and hard against hers…she all but swooned against him.

“Steady,” was all he said, then carefully propped her in a corner and disappeared behind a white paneled door without another glance.

Well, she thought, scowling at the now-vacant spot beside her. Apparently she was the only one suffering from hormone shock. She definitely had to forget those blue eyes looking into hers while he told her he wished they’d met under different circumstances. They hadn’t. And even if she was willing to forgive him—and she wasn’t saying she was—the rental car made it clear he was not a permanent fixture around here, or anywhere if the uniform meant anything. She let her eyes slide shut. And Lord, he was a man meant to wear a uniform. Protecting lives and making the world a safer place. A bubble of laughter pushed up her throat. Unless of course you were a bridesmaid ditching your pal’s wedding. Then he was a dangerous man.

She thought about the way he’d taken her out of the house. Yes, he might be charming and polite when he wanted to be, but there was no doubt that he was a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it.

The door popped open again and he was back, taking up way too much of her personal space and invading her emotional comfort zone just as effortlessly. She, on the other hand, apparently hadn’t made the least little dent in his. He handed her what looked like a long white gown.

“Choir robe,” he said. “I thought you might want to get out of that dress before we left.”

Visions of him doing just that came right into her mind without even asking permission. She shoved them aside and hugged the robe to her chest. “Thank you.” Then she realized she hadn’t completed her descent into Bridesmaid Hell. “Um…apparently I’m going to need some help getting this thing off.”

Where other men might have drooled openly at the opportunity to help any woman out of her clothes, he actually looked uncomfortable. She could almost like him for that.

“You didn’t seem to have the least compunction in carrying me out of my house in my underwear,” she reminded him, even as her little voice told her it wasn’t wise to goad the man. What did her little voice know anyway? It hadn’t kept her out of this mess in the first place, now had it?

“Is there a…zipper or something?” he asked, looking her over as if her dress was some sort of secret military weapon.

If she hadn’t been so tired and uncomfortable, she might have enjoyed making him sweat a little. It was the least he deserved. “I rolled it on basically.”

He just stared at her. Now it was her turn to feel a bit uncomfortable. Okay, more than a little. Having his hands on her, pulling this dress off—You’re in a church, for heaven’s sake, she reminded herself. She cleared her throat. “We should probably hurry up. Don’t you have to be in the pictures or something?”

“They’re taking the group photos at the country club.”

“Well, then let’s get this over with so you can drop me off and be on your way.”

He knelt in front of her, lifted his hands to the hem that was still scrunched up around her knees, then dropped them again. “I’m, uh, not sure where to begin.”

She carefully held her arms out and delivered her best smile. Maybe making him sweat was going to be more fun than she thought. “I think the Band-Aid approach is best. Just yank.”

He looked up at her then and she felt her stomach drop and her heart begin to pound. Here she was, standing in a church, in a fancy dress, with a gorgeous man on one knee in front of her. Scowling. She couldn’t get anything right.

“Hold on to my shoulders,” he directed. “If I can roll this up a bit, maybe then you can, you know, take it from there.”

His hands, with those long fingers…all up and down her thighs. Jesus, she’d never survive it without disgracing herself. But then, that wasn’t much of a stretch at the moment, was it? “Okay, okay.” She took a deep breath, or as deep a one as the dress would allow. “But close your eyes.”

He grabbed hold of the hem and shoved upward, but the fabric stopped just below crotch level, bound tightly around her hips. She wobbled and came dangerously close to pitching forward, which would have pressed his face…well, right where no man should have his face when inside a church. “Stop, stop,” she said breathlessly. “Get me out of these shoes.” She should have done that first anyway.

He did, all warm fingertips brushing at her skin, sending a tingling sensation all the way up to…well, where his face had almost been moments ago. Who knew ankles were erogenous zones?

She came dangerously close to moaning when she felt his warm breath on her skin as his fingers slid around her ankle to unbuckle one shoe, then the other. As it was, she had to sink her nails more deeply into his uniformed shoulders just to remain upright.