Her Kind of Trouble

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you,” she said, her eyes sending him a very different message.

A shame he wasn’t allowed to play with her properly. She’d give him a good run for his money.

“Seth,” he said, offering her his hand. “And you’re Vivian. We’re about to become family, they tell me.”

She considered his hand for a beat before sliding hers into it. Her skin was soft and warm, her nails surprisingly short and businesslike.

“Jodie warned me you aren’t brother material.”

She was more of a strawberry-blonde than a true redhead, he decided. Her eyes were an intriguing blue-green, her skin creamy smooth.

He bet she tasted good.

“Did she? I wonder why?”

“You think maybe it has something to do with the whole Marlon Brando On the Waterfront thing you’ve got going on?”

“Damn. And here I was, aiming for James Dean in Giant.”

“You’ll need a cowboy hat to pull that one off.”

“A cowboy hat, huh? I’ll add it to my shopping list. So, Vivian, what do you do when you’re not being the sexiest woman in the room?”

She huffed out a little laugh. “Wow, you don’t mess around, do you?”

“Just calling it like I see it.”

She took a sip from her champagne flute, considering him over the rim. “So, how do you see this working? We slip out between the main and dessert and I do you in the alley? Or were you thinking the bathroom?”

He choked on his beer, going from semihard to hard in no seconds flat. Then she arched her eyebrows and he knew she was yanking his chain.

“Funny.”

“Just calling it like I see it.” She lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug.

The movement caused the slit in her bodice to flare momentarily, offering him a heart-stopping view of cleavage. He was about to respond when he felt the heavy pressure of someone staring at him. He glanced around and met his brother’s dark glare.

Okay. Time to wind up this little chin-wag before his brother burst an artery.

“Vivian, it was nice meeting you. I look forward to seeing you at the altar tomorrow,” he said, offering her a mocking half bow.

“Tomorrow’s a whole other day. And you know what they say about weddings.” She winked then, the sexiest move he’d ever witnessed in the flesh.

Since he knew he couldn’t top that, he offered one last smile and turned away. Jason was angling toward him, and Seth headed in the opposite direction and sat beside his grandmother. As he’d guessed, Jason stopped short, unwilling to give a lecture about keeping his pants zipped in front of an octogenarian.

Wimp.

“Seth, sweetheart. Good to see you. Tell me about all the trouble you’ve been causing,” his grandmother said, patting his hand.

“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but I’ve been busy working. No trouble here.”

She laughed heartily, tickled, and he set himself to entertaining her. And all the while he puzzled over Vivian’s parting words. What, exactly, did people say about weddings? And did it mean he was in with a chance tomorrow or not?

* * *

VIVIAN STAYED UP half the night hand-stitching the sequins, seed pearls and feathers onto the belt. She was bleary-eyed when she finished, but the belt was gorgeous and she was certain that Jodie would love it.

It wasn’t a dress, but it was something.

She set her alarm before burrowing into the pillow and willing herself to sleep on the narrow bed. For some reason, her conversation with Seth slipped into her mind as she drifted off. Man, he was cocky. So confident he was almost offensive.

Almost. If he actually delivered on the promises he made with that body and those eyes... Well, it would be a whole lot of fun.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face, slept through her alarm and then had to shower in a panic before joining her sister downstairs to have her hair and makeup done with the other bridesmaids.

“Vivian,” her mother said reproachfully as Vivian slipped into the lone empty seat at the kitchen table.

Vivian widened her eyes. It wasn’t as though the makeup artist or hairdresser had eight arms and was able to work on more than one person at a time. She would have been sitting around twiddling her thumbs if she’d been on time.

The next hour flew by in a waft of hairspray and a dusting of powder. Then it was time to get dressed. She and the other bridesmaids shimmied into their pale green sheaths before helping Jodie dress. Then, holding her breath, Vivian handed over the belt.

“Oh, Viv.” Jodie eyes popped as she reached for it reverently. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Good. I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.”

Vivian was pretty sure she’d remember the look on her sister’s face for the rest of her life.

There were photographs to take next, then the drive to the church. In the vestibule Vivian and the other bridesmaids helped arrange the small train on Jodie’s dress, then Vivian tweaked the veil one last time. The doors to the church proper opened, the organ chimed the opening chords to “Here Comes the Bride,” and Vivian started down the aisle, her suddenly sweaty hands clutched around her bouquet.

She might not want this for herself, but it hit her that this was a big deal. Jodie was getting married. She was about to become someone else. Mrs. Anderson. She was about to lay the foundation stone for starting her own family.

Vivian blinked rapidly, worried she would ruin her makeup. Then her gaze found the tall figure of Seth standing at the head of the aisle, and she saw the smirk on his lips, as though he fully expected her to turn into a slobbering sentimental wreck any second. She sucked back her tears and lifted her chin. She loved her sister, but she had her dignity to consider.

The ceremony passed in a blur, the only stand-out moments in her memory being when Jason and Jodie exchanged rings, and the time when she got caught staring at Seth’s profile and had to let her gaze drift as though she’d been examining the stained glass window over his shoulder and not wondering what kind of a kisser he was. She wasn’t entirely sure he bought it, but she’d tried.

There were more photos—endless photos—after the ceremony, then they piled into the cars and drove to the Fairfield Boathouse for the reception. The food came quickly, which was just as well as Vivian was starving, having somehow forgotten to eat breakfast and lunch in all the rush. The champagne flowed freely, and before she knew it they were at the speeches part of the evening. Her father spoke well and made everyone cry, then Jason’s mother took the floor and made them laugh. Seth told droll stories and earned his brother some raised-eyebrow looks from her sister. Then it was Vivian’s turn to talk about the happy couple.

She’d never been crazy about public speaking, so she chugged down her glass of champagne before taking the mike. She’d written out her speech, and she pretty much stuck to the script as she shared how happy she was for Jason and Jodie, and how she thought they made a great couple and couldn’t wait for little Johnny and Jan and Jill to come along. Everyone seemed to think that was funny—phew—so she finished on a high note.

With the official stuff out of the way, the music started. Vivian knocked back more champagne while watching her relatives make idiots of themselves on the dance floor, then went in search of the ladies’.

Afterward, she couldn’t quite face returning to the rowdy din. Not just yet. She slipped out the front entrance onto the covered balcony that circled the Victorian building. The river was dark as night, but fairy lights circled the gum trees nearest the boathouse and the world seemed mysterious and full of promise.

The scent of smoke drifted to her and she glanced to her left. Someone stood in the shadows of the balcony, the tip of his cigarette glowing.

She smiled, because she knew exactly who it was. Full of champagne and mischief, she went to talk to Seth.

* * *

WHATEVER ELSE A person thought about Vivian—and Seth had had a few very detailed, very specific thoughts regarding her in the twenty-four hours since they’d met—it was impossible to ignore the fact that she knew how to move. There was a swing to her hips, a strut to her walk that issued a challenge.

Look at me. Take me on.

Watching her walk toward him, half her face in shadow, he could only admire the way she worked it.

“Ms. Walker. Taking a break from the festivities?”

“Avoiding the ‘Chicken Dance.’”

He winced. “Really?”

“Yep. There will be some ‘Greased Lightning’ and the ‘Bus Stop’ before the night’s over, too.”

He swore under his breath and took another drag on his cigarette.

“You got another one of those?”

“Didn’t realize you smoked.”

“Only when I’m drunk.”

He gave her an assessing look. She wasn’t swaying on her feet or glassy-eyed, but her cheeks were a little flushed. She waved a hand dismissively.

“Relax. I’m not there yet,” she said.

“Hey, whatever gets you through the night.”

God knows, she’d get no judgment from him. He’d been guzzling champagne since they’d arrived at the boathouse, trying to anesthetize himself against the knowledge that his brother’s life was officially over.

He offered her a cigarette and lit it, breathing in her perfume. Spice and musk. Nice.

“So I hear you’re a fashion designer?” he said as she blew a stream of smoke into the darkness.

“Been asking about me, James?”

It took him a moment to remember their James Dean/Marlon Brando conversation from last night.

“My mother mentioned it. She seemed to think we might have a lot in common.”

Her eyebrows shot skyward and she looked as horrified by the notion that his mother had matchmaking on her mind as he had been.

“Yeah, I know. I laughed so hard I think I broke my funny bone,” he said.

“What is it with people always trying to pair everyone off in neat little couples? News flash—not everyone in the world wants to file two by two onto Noah’s Ark and live like the Brady Bunch for the rest of their lives. There’s a hell of a lot more to life than paying taxes and making babies.”

“Man, don’t get me started,” he said, thinking of the grief his father gave him every few months about giving up the band to do something “realistic” with his life. No matter how many times he explained that music was his life, it never seemed to get through.

“No offense, but I nearly choked on my own tongue when Jodie told me Jason had asked her to marry him. I mean, she’s only twenty-six. That is young to be getting married these days.”

“You think I didn’t freak when Jason told me he’d popped the question? Your sister is nice and everything, but come on.”

She held her hands in the air. “Hey, preaching to the converted here.”

He reached for the bottle of champagne he’d smuggled out with him and took a swig before passing it to her. He watched her pale throat as she tilted her head back and drank deeply.

“I’ve got to ask this, because it’s been bugging me. What is it, exactly, that people say about weddings?” he asked.

She handed him the bottle. “I don’t know. Why?”

He shook his head, confused. “You’re the one who said it.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah, last night. You said tomorrow is another day and you know what people say about weddings.”

She laughed, the sound loud and delighted. “That’s freakin’ hilarious.”

He watched her, unable to stop himself from smiling even though he had no idea what was so funny. “You want to let me in on the secret?”

“Sure. I have no idea what people say about weddings. I was trying to be mysterious. You were doing your whole brooding thing, and I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t a pushover.” She laughed again and this time he joined in.

“Well, mission accomplished. Congratulations.”

“Why, thank you, James.” She grabbed the bottle and took another swallow.

He took advantage of the opportunity to check her out again. The other bridesmaids looked okay in their dresses, but Vivian looked amazing. He especially liked the split in the side of the skirt that had tantalized him with glimpses of her thigh all day.

“I bet the other bridesmaids were pissed when they heard you’d be maid of honor,” he said admiringly.

“You don’t need to butter me up, James.”

“Don’t I?”

“Nope.” Her gaze held his, and he was pretty damn sure that he wasn’t imagining the invitation in hers.

Well, happy birthday, Mr. President.

“In that case, maybe it’s time for me to bring out the big guns.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the joint he’d rolled earlier.

“I see you’ve really committed to the whole rock-and-roll lifestyle.”

“You got a problem with that?”

She gave him a slow, steady head-to-toe appraisal. “Not in the least.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment of thanks. Sometimes, out of nowhere, the universe delivered a perfect moment. He was going to grab this one with both hands and run with it.

* * *

VIVIAN WASN’T SURE if the limo was her idea or Seth’s. It was all a bit hazy in her mind after that first kiss on the balcony. One minute they’d been talking, then she’d been pressed up against the building with Seth’s body against hers and his tongue in her mouth.

And holy hell, could the man kiss.

He’d stormed her mouth and her body as though he owned her, and she’d been wet and desperate for him within seconds. The feel of him, hard and demanding against her belly, had her thinking of getting naked and horizontal pronto. Then he’d broken their kiss, taken her hand and led her to the stairs.

Now, he slipped the driver some money to take a walk. She shivered with anticipation as Seth opened the door and waved her inside.

“Madam.”

One word, but so loaded with promise she had to squeeze her thighs together to contain her excitement. She crawled onto the backseat, kneeling as he got in and closed the door.

“You’ll have to unzip me.” She offered him her back. It didn’t take three years of design school to know that precious little action would happen while she wore a figure-hugging, floor-length sheath.

“Totally on it,” Seth said, his hands on her zipper.

She felt the fabric loosen, and she wriggled until she’d pulled it off and draped it over the driver’s seat.

“Oh, man.” His gaze was avid as he stared at her cream-colored balconette bra and matching panties.

She loved the slightly dazed look in his eyes.

“Brace yourself, I’m climbing on board,” she said, slipping a leg over his body and straddling him.

“Permission to board granted. And anything else that strikes your fancy,” he said. “And speaking of fancy...”

She bit back a moan as his hands slid onto her satin-covered ass, curving his hands to the shape of her body as he pulled her close. They kissed, his hands massaging as she ground against his erection. He smoothed one hand up to the clasp of her bra, and seconds later she felt it slacken around her rib cage.

“You’ve done that before,” she murmured as she slipped the straps down her arms.

“I was a Cub Scout.” He swore under his breath as her bra fell from her breasts. “Vivian, seriously. Could you be any freakin’ hotter?”

She didn’t get a chance to respond because he leaned forward and pulled one of her nipples into his mouth and she was lost.

Utterly gone.

Never had a man’s mouth on her breasts felt so good. Hot and wet, his teeth and tongue teasing her. She gripped handfuls of his hair and held him in place, riding the waves of desire sweeping through her. Then he slid a hand onto her belly and beneath her panties and took her to a whole new level.

The feel of his clever fingers between her thighs was crazy-making, the pressure both too much and not enough. She started to pant, and when he slid a finger inside her she gave a low, guttural moan.

“These have to go,” he said, and she heard a rip as he tore her panties off.

A part of her wanted to laugh at how mad and desperate it all was—the cramped quarters, him tearing her clothes off, their harsh breathing. But then he found her with his thumb at the exact moment that he bit her nipple and she was too busy coming, her head dropping forward as she clutched at his shoulders, needing an anchor to keep her earthbound.

Moments later she opened her eyes to find him watching her with a huge grin on his face.

“Like a handheld flare,” he said.

“Sorry?”

He reached for the buckle on his trousers. “I’ll explain later.”

She stared as he slipped himself free from his pants. Wow. This was going to be good.

“Want to do the honors?” He held up a condom.

She smiled, relieved that they weren’t going to have to have that battle. “Don’t mind if I do.”

She pulled the latex from the foil, slipped it over the head of his very hard erection and smoothed it on. The moment she rolled it home, she took him in hand and guided him to her entrance. Holding his eye, she slid onto him in one slippery, wet rush.

His breath sighed out on a wordless exclamation, and when she started to move, his hands tightened on her hips. He felt so good inside her, so thick. Desire tightened inside her again, stoked higher by every stroke of his body. He drew her closer, tonguing her nipples. She tilted her hips and ground herself against him, one hand on his shoulder for balance.

For long moments there was only the sound of their breathing and their bodies coming together. He reached between them, finding her with his thumb again, and she keened desperately, so, so close to coming a second time.

Her movements became urgent, fervent, as she raced toward oblivion. This time he went with her, his hips surging off the seat, his hands dragging her down as he buried himself, his body shuddering. Her body tightened around his as she climaxed, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she kissed him deeply.

She lay limp as a rag doll on his shoulder for what felt like a long time afterward, trying to muster the energy to move. So many things to do—get rid of the condom, get dressed, check her makeup, go back to the reception—but she was so boneless with sated pleasure she could barely blink.

“How you doing there?” he said, his voice a rumble near her ear.

She pushed herself off his chest, letting out a gentle sigh. “I’m pretty good. How about you?”

“Fair to middling.”

They began to laugh, then a car started nearby and they both ducked instinctively.

“Shit. What time is it? People must be leaving already,” Vivian said.

She slid away from him, leaving him to do whatever it was men did with the condom, and reached for her bra. He made himself decent and buckled up, then helped her wriggle into her dress. It was impossible to pull the narrow skirt over her legs while kneeling, so she cracked the door slightly, did a quick scan, then got out. Standing in the V of the open door, she smoothed the skirt down.

“Decent?” she asked.

“Hardly.”

“I meant the dress, funny guy.” She rolled her eyes. Leaning past him, she scooped her panties from the limo floor. No way was she making the rookie’s mistake of leaving those little puppies behind.

“You look fine.”

He got out of the car and she gave him a once-over. It was hard to see much in the dim lighting, but apart from being a little rumpled, he looked fine, too. Which meant they were clear to head into the reception.

She glanced toward the boathouse, not sure how to say what needed to be said.

“Listen, Seth...I had a great time. But just so you know, I’m not really looking for anything. I’ve got a lot going on with my studies, I’ve got a graduate show to prepare for...” She trailed off awkwardly.

He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “So, what, this was just one night of the best limo-monkey-sex ever, no strings attached?”

She couldn’t tell if he was pissed or not. He didn’t sound pissed, but there was something about the way he was holding himself that made her a little nervous.

“That’s another way of putting it.”

He grinned hugely, his posture and expression relaxing. “I knew you were my kind of girl when I met you, Vivian Walker.”

She punched him on the arm, aware that he’d played her. “Thanks for freaking me out, James.”

“My pleasure.” He tugged her ruined panties from her hand. “I’m keeping these, too, by the way.” He slid them into his pocket.

“Adding them to your collection, are you?”

“I’m going to frame them and hang them above my bed.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Man, you are so full of it.”

But so charming and sexy, too. And, God, was he good in bed. Or, if they wanted to be strictly accurate, in car.

He pulled the cigarettes from his pocket and offered her one. She shook her head, and he lit up.

“We probably shouldn’t go back in together,” she pointed out.

“You want to go first or will I?”

“You go,” she said.

He considered her for a moment, then reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “See you ’round, Vivian.”

“Back at ya.”

He started walking toward the boathouse, trailing smoke. She watched him, a frown forming as the repercussions of what they’d done finally made their way through her hazy, champagne-muddled brain.

Her sister was married to his brother. She and Seth would see each other at family functions for the next forever. Probably getting naked with him at the first opportunity hadn’t been the best way to kick off their relationship.

Then she remembered his kiss, and the feel of his hands in her panties, and the hard, thick slide of him inside her, and she waved a hand in the air, shooing her concerns away like an annoying fly.

What had happened between her and Seth had been inevitable from the moment they’d laid eyes on each other. They’d simply gotten it out of the way sooner rather than later.

Which was a good thing.

Smoothing her hands over her hips, she took a deep breath and went to rejoin the party.

CHAPTER TWO

Ten years later

“WE READY TO go people?”

The assistant’s voice rang out over the chatter in the studio, causing a flurry of activity. Lights were tweaked, reflectors placed at the ready. Robin changed lenses on his camera, his dark head bent, his focus on the task absolute.

Vivian shook her head in admiration. He was so damn good at what he did; taking him up on his offer to become business partners was one of the best decisions she’d ever made.

The model she was dressing shifted her weight and Vivian turned to her own task, concentrating on knotting the scarf around the pretty blonde’s neck in a jaunty and sexy bow.

When she was finished she stood back, eyes narrowed as she studied the effect. The model raised her eyebrows, waiting. Vivian nodded.

“You are good to go, sweetie,” she said, patting her on the shoulder.

The girl beamed—and she was a girl, barely sixteen—and took her place on the purple velvet chaise that was the centerpiece of the photo. Vivian sighed. Were the models getting younger or was she getting older?

Probably a bit of both.

This was the last shot before lunch, but she went to the clothes rack to check that the next couple of outfits were ready to go anyway.

“Viv.”

She glanced over her shoulder, smiling when she caught sight of Jodie standing inside the doorway of the huge studio space.

“Hey. You found us!” she said, waving for her sister to come in.

Jodie glanced around anxiously, clearly worried about getting in the way. It probably looked chaotic to an outsider, but the organized mayhem was second nature to Vivian after five years working as a professional stylist. Taking pity on Jodie, she met her halfway, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she said. “Thanks for coming all the way into the city to see me.”