May The Best Man Wed

“Are you sure he’s in there?”

“I heard snoring, ma’am.”

Savannah released an exasperated breath as she checked the clock. No self-respecting individual sleeps until nine on a weekday. “Is anyone else home?”

“No, ma’am. Mrs. Walker just left for the salon and Mr. Walker is at the office, of course.”

“And I suppose Sam drove Mrs. Walker to her appointment?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, I doubt the bedroom door is locked. Just go in and give him a good, hard shake. That ought to do the trick.”

“Oh no, ma’am,” the other woman protested. “I couldn’t do that. He’s a grown man.”

“So he claims.” Savannah sighed again. “Listen, I’m coming right over. If, on the unlikely chance he does get up, don’t let him leave the house before I get there. He has an appointment at eleven and he’s not going to miss it.”

She arrived at the Walkers’ three-story Georgian in record time. Still, it was almost nine-forty. She’d been up for over four and a half hours already. The most Cash had probably done in that time was roll over.

She marched in as soon as the front door opened. “Which room is he in?” she asked the maid as she started up the stairs.

“Second floor, fifth door on your left, ma’am.”

Savannah reached the second-floor landing and strode down the hall to Cash’s room. She rapped on the door loudly. Without waiting for an answer, she twisted the knob. By the time Cash showered and dressed, they’d be lucky if they made the appointment on time.

“Cash?” She announced herself to the lump burrowed beneath the bedcovers. She marched to the window and threw back the curtains. She turned, triumphant. Still no sign of life from the bed. She marched to the bed, put her hand on what she presumed was a shoulder and gave it a good shake. “Cash, get up now.”

With a groan, he rolled over. His eyes still closed, he warned, “You’re gonna pay for that, Angeline.” Grabbing Savannah’s hand, he pulled her down onto the hard heat of his body.

Her mouth opened, only to be covered by his, his hands capturing the back of her head, thrust into her hair, holding her fast. He crushed her lips beneath his own, the kiss hot, urgent as if he’d been waiting his whole life for her. Shock, outrage and a sudden sense she had never been kissed before filled Savannah. Her anguish seemed to fall, matter no more beneath a passion and, heaven help her, a pleasure spreading, flowing through every inch of her, striking her senseless.

She squirmed, but her movements, the friction of muscle and flesh, were desire’s dance. An unintelligible plea came from the back of her throat, but Savannah could no longer be sure for what she begged. Her efforts had eased her lips wider, unwittingly provoking that hard, wonderful mouth deeper. She tasted a wildness, the sting of uncontrol. She stopped squirming. Her hands fisted against the sides of the body blanketed beneath her, against the heat, the power, the scorching need.

With a fierce twist of her head, she wrenched her mouth free. She held the breath that would come out as a gasp.

“You’re in bigger trouble now.” His hands reached for her once more.

“Cash!” she snapped, an inch from his face.

He opened his eyes; she filled his vision. “Whoa!” His head jerked back, surprise taking all the hooded sensuality out of his features. She wanted to jump up and run from his provocative power searing her body. She didn’t move. She’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction. It was too late anyway. She’d known his kiss, even though it had been meant for another and meant nothing. Yes, that was the thought she would cling to when the memory came.

She tasted her lips. “I see you had that drink after all last night.”

Amusement moved into his features. The sensuality had already returned. “You should have come with me, Savannah-Banana.”

“It’s a regret I’ll learn to live with.” With as much dignity as possible, she rolled off his body and rose from the bed. She looked down at him with perfect composure. “Get up and get dressed.”

He shrugged. “Okay, but I’ve got to warn you I sleep in the nude.” He started to push back the covers.

“I already knew that.” Savannah moved to the door, adjusting the starched collar and cuffs of her shirtwaist, as his rich laughter came. “You have a fitting at Mr. Max’s Formal Wear today. We’re to be there in less than an hour. I’ve never been late for an appointment in my life and I don’t intend to start now.” She walked from the room without another look at him.

He sank back against the pillows as the door closed, Savannah’s sweet taste and soft warmth still holding him like a dream. He had drunk too much last night for the first time in many years. Yet it was also the first time he’d been home in many years. A throbbing ache began in his head. He closed his eyes, but not to relieve the pain. No, he welcomed the pain. He closed his eyes to wipe out the memory of the moment that had just happened. Desire only strengthened. He opened his eyes, everything too real. He had wanted Savannah. He had touched his lips to hers and tasted the sweetest of promises. He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He shook his head. “Hell.” He laughed again, this time at himself as the need clutched him.

Savannah made it as far as the second stair before she gripped the rail to steady herself. Still, sensation overwhelmed her. Every boundary she’d ever crafted seemed to have dissolved, leaving her vulnerable. It’d been the surprise, the shock, that’s all, she told herself. Nothing more, nothing more. Still the urgency rose.

She watched him come down the stairs twenty-five minutes later. “You forgot to shave,” she noted.

He smiled at her. “I didn’t forget.”

“I hope you at least brushed your teeth.” She turned to the door.

“Why? You gonna kiss me again?”

She spun around, angry with him, even more furious with the desire spiked by the mere suggestion. “You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“A gentleman wouldn’t—”

“Now you’re flattering me, Savannah-Banana.”

She forced her expression bland. She didn’t have to tell him how much she hated nicknames. She had the feeling he already knew.

“We keep going the way we are—” he still smiled “—and soon we’ll have a whole repertoire of anecdotes to share at family functions.”

Her hand sliced the air, dismissing him and his efforts to infuriate her. She yanked open the door. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Why?” He tripped down the porch stairs, easily catching up to her. “They’ll force us to wear pink cummerbunds?”

“Actually, they’re peach.” Savannah pulled open the car door.

Cash stopped dead, such a look of alarm on his face, Savannah would have smiled had it been anyone else.

“You’re kidding?”

She looked at him, confused. “They match the bow tie.”

She slid into the driver’s seat, enjoying a smile until Cash slid in beside her.

“You are kidding,” he decided.

She glanced at him, her expression betraying nothing. “Buckle up.” She put the car into gear and headed for the interstate.

“Stop.” He pointed to a mini-mart as they came to an intersection “I need caffeine.”

“There’s no time.”

“Come on.” He elbowed her in the side as if they were old school chums. “A man can’t live on love alone.”

She had an urge to rev the engine and shoot past the convenience store, but she always drove at the speed limit.

He leaned back against the seat, stretched his arms, reducing the space even further within the car. “If you’re in such an all-fired hurry to get downtown, why are you driving so slow?”

“I’m driving at the posted speed limit.” She snapped on her blinker, eased into another lane.

“Follow all the rules, don’t you, Slick?”

“That’s what they were made for, Walker.”

“Maybe, but it’s more fun to break them.”

“There’s more to life than fun.”

“Is that what you want on your tombstone?”

She decided to ignore him. In reality, she was too aware of him—his size, the movement of muscles as he shifted in his seat. The omnipresent heat, seductive as a southwest wind. Heat that she’d told herself she’d only imagined, until this morning when she’d felt it with her own body.

Fortunately they weren’t far from the heart of downtown now, having left behind the old-money estates and new-money monster mansions. Mr. Max’s was north of the city’s center among the upscale department stores and towering hotels and office high-rises. Cash groaned as they passed an advertisement for Fresh Mountain Roast Coffee.

He slumped against the seat. “All I can say is the bridesmaids better be gorgeous—each and every one of them.”

Savannah thought of her sister. Cash would be pleased. “I’m assuming then, you’re not bringing someone to the wedding?”

“Why? Do you need a date?”

Patience, Savannah, patience. “You just seemed rather fond of this Angeline person—”

“Angeline?”

The unexpected steel in his voice drew her gaze. His expression was even harder.

“That’s the name you called me when you accosted me in your bedroom. I assumed—”

“Honey, I’ve done a lot of things in a bedroom but accosting has never been one of them.”

As usual, his recovery was swift. Jaw set, she focused her attention on the traffic.

“You’re thinking you don’t like me again, aren’t you, Slick?”

Her jaw muscles locked.

“Angeline was the woman I left at the altar seven years ago.”

She swung her head to him. He was watching the passing buildings, the streets busy with people. “I’m sorry.”

He angled his head to look at her.

“Really, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I mean I knew what happened but, but—” She was actually stammering.

“The story isn’t exactly the type of fare that lends itself to amusing anecdotes at family reunions, is it?”

His barbs were rendered null and void by the pain etched in his expression.

“Why’d you do it?” Her words came without thought. Blame it on her current situation. Blame it on the loneliness she sensed beneath his laughter. She needed to know.

He shook his head. “She knew it was over. I had told her that morning.”

“Maybe she didn’t believe you?”

His words were certain. “She believed me.”

Savannah sensed he would say no more. She tried to fill in the blanks. “You were scared?” She felt her own fear, refused to let it take hold.

“Not at all. I wasn’t scared of anything back then. I was gaga about her.” He winked at her. She had to smile, her own fear falling away.

“Wild about her, absolutely wild. Followed her around hot as a three-dollar pistol.” His smile was rueful as he looked out the windshield at nothing and remembered. “It ended badly, but boy, in the beginning…it was something.”

Savannah could only nod dumbly while a faceless, nameless need rose inside her as if she were twelve again, dreaming of her first kiss. She wanted to ask more, know everything, but Cash turned to the window, his face lifting toward the bronze sunlight. “I hate this damn city,” he said.

She returned her attention to the road, started to search for parking. “They always have coffee for the customers at Mr. Max’s. Mr. Max insists it be brewed fresh on the hour, every hour. The beans are hand-ground.” It was all she could offer him at that moment.

She felt a warm gratification when she heard his chuckle.

They were ten minutes late for the fitting but no one minded except Savannah, and even she had ceased to care at that point. Cash immediately christened the owner Max the Madman and after two cups of black coffee with what Savannah thought was an excessive amount of sugar, he charmed the rest of the store’s personnel. Savannah watched him, wondering if anyone, even those who knew better, walked away from him untouched?

When he stepped from the dressing room, in classic black that instead of refining him only made his raw maleness more lethal, the assistants oohed and aahed, and even Savannah had to swallow hard twice. But when Mr. Max turned to her to second his opinion of Cash as “the most handsome best man to ever set foot in Mr. Max’s Formal Wear,” Savannah merely looked at Cash and in a bored tone, asked, “You will shave for the wedding, won’t you?”

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