The Rent-A-Groom by Jennifer Blake Page B

behind her, she leaned against the ornate headboard of black lacquer painted with roses and gilt ribbon, then reached wordlessly for the coffee cup.
     
    He had the decency, or maybe it was the good sense, not to try to talk to her immediately. Pouring himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the tray beside him, he moved to the end of the mattress, where he settled himself, reclining against the footboard.
     
    Gina thought of ordering him off her bed, but it was too much effort. Instead she watched him from under her lashes as she sipped the reviving brew she held. He made such an incongruous picture, so obviously masculine against the background of the ultra-feminine room.
     
    The atmosphere didn’t seem to bother him, however; she had to give him that. It wasn’t that he was superior or impervious to it, but rather so secure within himself that it made no difference. It was an attractive quality.
     
    To wake with a man around was a new experience. If this was the way it was going to be, she thought she might get used to it. Easily. Too easily.
     
    Something about the way he was watching her made her abruptly self-conscious. She glanced down at the front of her white silk gown, wondering if the material was more transparent than she had thought, if maybe the darker aureoles of her nipples were visible through the soft cloth. She could see nothing. Regardless, she crossed her arms over herself as best she could without being too obvious about it.
     
    At the same time, she could not help wondering what it would be like if the two of them really were honeymooning. How would it be to have him lounging at her feet in whatever he wore to sleep? What would happen if, when they finished their coffee, she shifted to stretch out beside him, reaching for him, pressing close? What would it be like to fit herself to the hard musculature of his body? Would he wrap his arms around her to pull her nearer before he pressed her down into the softness of the bed? How would it feel to know that all barriers between them had been set aside, that they had all day, all week, to make love?
     
    A warm and turgid longing flooded over her, cresting somewhere deep inside. Painful in its pressure, it threatened to swamp her good sense, never mind her better intentions. She held her breath against it, and against the ache of need for that kind of deep, enduring acceptance, that human connection.
     
    This would not do. It would not do at all.
     
    Clearing her throat, she said, “Is there some reason you’re so bright-eyed and busy this morning?”
     
    “Not exactly. Except I’ve already shocked the maid out of her pink socks, had a run-in with Bradley-the-idiot, and splashed half the water out of the hotel pool. I thought it was time to let you in on some of the fun.”
     
    She stared at him. “Come again?”
     
    He explained, and was so droll about it she couldn’t help laughing. She conquered her amusement by taking quick swallows of coffee. When he finished, she asked, “You think Bradley sent the maid in on purpose?”
     
    “What else? He sure didn’t see us going out.”
     
    “True.” She narrowed her eyes. “We really ought to retaliate.”
     
    “We could nail his door shut,” Race suggested hopefully.
     
     “The hotel might not appreciate the nail holes. But maybe we could send people to his room as he did ours, order towels and ice and a TV repairman. Or we could call room service and have a huge breakfast sent to them—Bradley doesn’t eat breakfast.”
     
    “You have a diabolical mind,” he said with a slow smile. “I love it. And it would be a great plan, except that your late groom and maid of honor are having lunch even as we speak.”
     
    “Lunch!”
     
    Irony crept into his eyes. “It is that time of day.”
     
    “You’re joking.” She gazed at him with her cup suspended halfway to her lips.
     
    “You must have needed the rest,” he said, tipping his head a little as he watched