Lilies and Lies

Copyright © 2008, Tara Greenbaum Published March 2008 by Resplendence Publishing, LLC Edgewater, Florida All rights reserved

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

Lilies and Lies

3

CHAPTER ONE

"I'll take a box of yellow, blue, pink and purple condoms, please." Jillian Connelly tried to sound matter-of-fact as she placed her order with the teenager behind the counter of the Nawty Things novelty shop. "Do you want ribbed, Rough Rider, French Tickler, ultra sensitive, form fitting, extra large, extra strength, glow in the dark—my personal favorite—or flavored?" The kid didn't bat an eye as he rattled off the extensive list of selections like a bored waitress delivering the daily specials. "Flavored?" Had she really asked out loud? "We've got banana, chocolate, cinnamon, passion fruit, watermelon, strawberry, piña colada, and tutti frutti." Heat spread from her face down to her toes. Please throw some in a bag so I can get out of here. "I find the easiest way to choose is to consult your partner. Maybe he has a preference." The deep, sensual voice from behind her sent a ripple of lust through her body. Great. Now other people knew what she was buying. No way was she turning around. "I'm decorating a honeymoon getaway car… for a wedding I'm in tonight." She explained to the boy behind the counter and to Mr. Sexy Voice. The teenager rolled his eyes, tossed half a dozen random boxes in a bag and handed them to Jillian. She threw down four twenties—didn’t bother to wait for the change–then fled the store with her gaze on the floor. If she had been buying anything other than sexual accessories that voice would have been worth investigating, but how could she after that purchase? What if she liked him and they started dating? What if they got married and she had to tell their grandkids she'd met grandpa while buying condoms? That had Jerry Springer written all over it.

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Time to get serious. She still had so much left to do before the wedding. Not only did she need to fill floral orders that had been placed for other customers, she hadn't even started on Erin's bridal bouquet. A quick coffee and then it was back to work. God bless caffeine. Candace's Coffee Shop was beside her floral store in the mall. So if she were quick, she'd hardly miss the wasted minutes. "Can I get a double espresso, please?" Jillian slid her credit card across the counter. "Sorry, new policy, we don't take plastic anymore!" An overly-energetic girl with a teacup shirt informed. Just my luck. Jillian never carried cash and only had it for the condoms because another bridesmaid had given it to her. It wasn't that she didn't want to carry cash, she just didn't have any. After paying the bills at the shop, she was tapped out. Dropping her purse on the counter, she dug deep into the bottom. "I know I have some change down here . . . somewhere." She shook her purse. She extracted her hand and opened her fist. A broken lipstick tube—minus its lid—a piece of gum with half a wrapper, a pen, receipt from the grocery store, and three long strands of nutmeg hair. "May I?" a sexy, strangely familiar voice asked. "Yes, by all means go ahead of me." She dropped a quarter onto the burnished-black countertop. "No, may I buy your coffee for you?" The husky voice sent the downy hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Jillian squeezed her eyes closed in embarrassment. It was the same sexy voice from the novelty shop. This time maybe she should at least peek. She slowly turned and came face to face with mystery man. What a total hunk. For a moment, she forgot how to speak. "Thanks, I… can't seem to find my money." The man was a twenty on a scale of one to ten. He had crystal-clear, cornflower blue eyes that could make a girl forget all about getting back to work. His black hair curled around a well-worn Yankees hat, giving him a boyish charm.

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His pearly whites were flanked by two impressive dimples that were so big she could get lost in them and he was nice and tall, too. She swiped her fingers across her lips to make sure she wasn't drooling. If she wasn’t in such a rush—and had an out of body experience—she might be tempted to run her nose, followed quickly by her tongue, along the nape of his neck. "I'll have what she's having." He tossed a fifty on the counter. After the coffees were poured, Mr. Sexy scooped them from the counter. "Want to find a table?" Yes, she wanted to find a table. No, make that a bed! But she had flowers to arrange. Running her flower shop consumed her boring life. "Your change." Teacup girl waved a blur of green in the air. "Keep it." That voice left Jillian's mouth dry and sent tingles and heat to remote areas of her body she'd forgotten existed. Would it be so wrong if Erin didn't have a bridal bouquet? Simplicity was in, right? "I could spare a few minutes." A grin lit his face. And she decided right then she'd follow him just about anywhere. He led her to a tiny wrought iron table tucked in the corner of the store, surrounded by canisters of highly aromatic coffees. The pungent smell of the store usually filled her mind with visions of far away lands and exotic vacations. Today, her fantasies fixed on a faded pair of jeans, accentuating a squeezable rear end. He held back a chair for her. Her last boyfriend, Kent, had never held back a chair or opened a door. Which meant the stranger was also a gentleman. Okay, so this was all a dream. Hit snooze, roll over, and enjoy ten minutes more of glorious sleep. In unison, they set their white packages under the table. "Needing a caffeine kick?" He passed her a cup. "Yes… I-I'm planning on a very late night." "A late night sounds interesting."

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Someone turn on the air-conditioning. It just got Sahara Desert HOT in here. "I'm in a wedding, and I'm sure it will be the wee hours of the morning before I get home." He took a sip. "Is this your wedding?" "Oh. Good God, no!" Smooth. Now he thinks you hate men. He cocked a brow. "I thought all women dreamed of white bridal dresses and fairytale weddings." "Most women probably do. I just haven't found Prince Charming yet." "Really? Are you looking for him?" Not these days. Managing a business left her no time for a social life. Or any life for that matter. "Let's just say, I stay clear of all men galloping up on white horses." "Good to know." He winked and slight dimple appeared on his cheek. "And what is the fair maiden's name?" "Jillian Connelly. It's nice to meet you." She stuck out her hand. "Garrett…" he paused, then confidently added, "Guinness." He took her hand in his. "It's nice to meet you, too." His firm handshake demonstrated a strong conviction not too many people possessed. Not to mention the comforting warmth it left lingering in her palm long after he'd let go. Why did that name sound familiar? "Guinness, like the beer, Guinness?" "Y-yep. Umm. Are you from Magnolia Springs?" Something about the question jarred her back to reality. She checked her watch. She was running out of time. "Born and raised right here." He removed his ball cap. "I just moved to Florida, and I'm not acclimated to the heat yet. I really didn't think anyone drank coffee in a climate like this." Would he care if she ran her fingers through his irresistible hair to remove the hat head? "If we waited till it was cool outside to enjoy coffee, we'd only drink it two weeks out of the year. You'll get used to the heat. Wait until July, then you'll be wishing you hadn't moved from…?" "New York." She took a quick sip of her coffee, wishing all the way down to her toes that she didn’t have to dash. She missed leisurely sipping coffee. "I hate to run, but I really need to get back to work." "Ah, yes. A workaholic."

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"What?" She wasn't a workaholic. Well, maybe she had been working way too much these past few months to make ends meet. But today, at least, she had a very good excuse. "Saturdays aren't in the work week," he said. The hours of a business owner didn't stop for weekends, nights, holidays, or ever for that matter. "I want my best friend to have a beautiful bridal bouquet, and I don't want to rush." "So, as the owner, you take an active role in your business?" Garrett questioned. "How did you know I was the owner?" "I'm observant." He smiled like a Clue player who'd just discovered Professor Plum, in the study, with the candlestick. "You're wearing a florist apron that says Jillian's Petals, your name is Jillian, and you have a leaf in your hair." Garrett plucked the greenery from her head, and produced the most kissable, flirtatious grin. If pulling one leaf from her head resulted in that kind of smile, she should have stuck a whole plant in her hair. "Thank you for the coffee." She took the last sip of her espresso and stood to leave, reluctance weighing heavy on her feet. "Don't forget your things." He reached under the table and extracted her white bag. Their fingers grazed, and an electric sizzle shot through her and ricocheted off every body part from her head to her toes. The sensation finally settled in the pit of her stomach where it tingled until long after she'd turned and escaped from narrowly planting a fat wet, kiss on his lips.

Jillian sat with a five-gallon bucket of lilac roses nested firmly between her bent knees. Her hands were covered with cloth gloves, as she snipped the thorns with a pair of cutting shears. Because of the lack of sleep and stress, lately she had trouble smelling the flowers in her fragrant shop, but today it smelled sweet like a meadow in bloom. "So he was gorgeous, intelligent, and witty. And you ran away." Disbelief shone on her best friend Erin’s face. "Why?" "I don’t know." Jillian heatedly extracted a long stemmed flower and placed it with all the other flawless roses she was setting aside. Unfortunately, she knew the answer. She was a scared little chicken who didn't want to be emotionally demolished again.

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"Jillian, it's high time you got over Kent. He's a no-good, cheating, lying ass." Erin was the antithesis of a procrastinator. Her wedding was in a couple of hours and she had time to kill. Who else on the planet was that organized? She looked liked a fiery angel with her red hair piled on top of her head and her pearl encrusted veil flowing around her porcelain face. She hadn't changed into her wedding dress, but she was on her way to becoming a beautiful bride. Erin had a personality Jillian adored—tell it like it is, hold nothing back. Sometimes Jillian wished for a pinch of that kind of straightforwardness. "I didn't leave Mr. Sexy Pants in the coffee shop because of Kent. And what a fine way to talk about your new brother-in-law." Though every word was true. "He's not my brother-in-law until tonight, so for now, he's still a jerk. A really big jerk who broke my best friend's heart." "I'm over him, I really am. And I have been since I caught him in bed with his personal trainer. It's just that I'm not thrilled to see him with a date tonight at the wedding, when I don't have one. You know they'll be all lovey-dovey, kissing and dancing close together." "It kills me that you'll have to see Kent, but I don't know what else to do. I asked Michael not to invite his brother and to make Kent disappear. You know, like swim with the fishes." Somehow, Erin managed to turn any sticky situation into a humorous joke. Definitely a talent. "All right, no more talk of Kent. It's your wedding day. Let's start celebrating the fact that Michael is crazy enough to take you on as his wife." Erin grinned. "I have some champagne chilling in the refrigerator. Let's make a toast to you leaving the old maids’ club." Jillian retrieved the ten dollar bottle of pink champagne she’d bought from the convenience store and filled two plastic cups. "A toast: To my best friend and many wonderful years of happy blissful marriage." "And to my best friend. May she get laid. Soon." Jillian's mouth dropped open. "What kind of toast is that? And I'm fine in that area, I'll have you know." "Using a vibrator every night doesn't qualify as having a healthy sex life." "I beg your pardon." She placed her hand on the base of her throat.

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"We've been roommates for five years and the walls are thin. Take some initiative with your sex life. Meet a man and have a one night stand, a fling." Jillian was simply not that kind of woman, but why expose all her secrets? "Well, maybe I've already been there, and done that." "Who are you kidding? Kent was the first guy you ever slept with back in our freshman year of college and you haven't slept with another man since." Jillian sipped her champagne. The pungent taste brought back bitter memories of the time she'd wasted with Kent. "No, he did enough sleeping around for the both of us." Erin pushed her veil aside and sat on the counter. "Well, now it's your turn. Take a chance, go out on a limb, and get laid. No names, no phone numbers, no regrets, just plain and simple no-strings-attached sex." Jillian exhaled the heavy breath she'd been unconsciously holding. It actually sounded intriguing, exciting, yet… "I don't think so." "Don't think about it. Just do it. Take a chance in life and stop holding back." Jillian drained her champagne, hoping to take some of the sting out of the memories. "I take chances in life." "Like what?" She took chances all the time. Crazy, nutty chances. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of even one example. "I take chances like… like I'm wearing a red thong." "Puhleeese. One day you're going to wake up. You'll be married, you'll have a family, and you'll be driving along in your minivan when you'll think to yourself, you know, I should have listened to my best friend. I should have taken a chance, lived on the edge, and had mindblowing sex with a stranger." Erin sloshed more champagne into their glasses. "Maybe I will." Jillian finished her drink. "Maybe you should. You're not getting any younger. Be spontaneous. Live a little. Do something completely out of the ordinary." It could have been the champagne, but Erin's words seemed to strike a cord. Yes, she did need to take a chance in life. Live on the edge, have mind-blowing sex with a stranger. Then, as if they’d rehearsed it, Hunky Coffee Guy waltzed into her shop.

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"I'll show you spontaneity.” Standing on her tip-toes, Jillian wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, and leaned in close to his lips then planted a kiss on his mouth. She drew her tongue across the fullness of his lower lip. Jillian didn’t know what to expect, but the current of her body touching his was a luxurious indulgence. God, he tasted like liquid chocolate. YUM! Jillian stepped away and looked to her wide-eyed friend. "Now how's that for living by the seat of my red thong?" Erin froze, with a what the—? question on her face. "Jill, do you know this guy?” Jillian had officially shaken up her nothing-could-surprise-me best friend. Which was a first. "I've never seen him before in my life." She could hardly tease without a smile. Jillian turned back to Garrett. He had quite the smirk on his face. “I brought you some condoms," he said. Erin dropped her glass and spit out a mouthful of champagne. She sprang from the counter with her veil floating in the wind. "Well, I never… in my wildest dreams… and on my wedding day." Sure, Jillian could explain, but where was the fun in that? "Erin, don't you have a pedicure appointment you need to get to?" "Wild horses with naked men on their backs couldn't drive me away. You were saying something about condoms, Mr.…?" Erin pushed Jillian aside and stuck out her hand. "Garrett Guinness." He shook her outstretched hand. Erin smiled. "Guinness? Like the beer?" "Yep." Garrett turned to face Jillian. "I gave you the wrong bag back at the coffee shop." Erin checked him out, both up and down. "So, you're Mr. Sexy Coffee Shop Man?" "Erin!" She could kill her. Even on her wedding day. Was it too late to run and hide? Garrett smiled and out came the big dimples. "Imagine my surprise when I handed what I thought was a bag containing my grandmother's watch to the repairman." He rubbed his chin. Jillian squeezed her eyes closed. Please be joking. "You gave a bag filled with condoms to a repairman?" Erin did nothing to hide her amusement. "What did he say?"

Lilies and Lies Garrett crossed his arms. "He told me thanks, but he prefers shorter men."

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CHAPTER TWO

Jillian's entire face glowed warmly when she laughed. And when she laughed, he found it damn hard to concentrate on anything else. All of which was absolutely refreshing. Stuffiness and plastic grins usually donned the faces of the women in his circle. To admire a beautiful woman with a happy face instead of a mildly tolerating smirk rejuvenated him without the aid of caffeine. Which was why he'd decided to move to Florida. He wanted to start over. Well, as “over” as a semi-celebrity could. Standing in the middle of one of the best days he'd had in a very long time, he had to fight a grin. God, these two ladies were so alive, so non-robotic, so real. This was what he'd hoped would happen after he told Jillian a shortened version of his last name. He’d instantly turned into a nobody, instead of the part owner of the exclusive McGuinness Hotel chain. "Jill, you having an orgy with all those condoms later tonight that we should know about?" Erin teased her friend. As scarlet stained Jillian’s cheeks, she squirmed uncomfortably. Watching her writhe was rather fun. It was doubtful that she'd ever had an orgy before. Not that a pretty girl like her couldn't have as many lovers as she wanted. Jillian was one sexy woman, with her long hair and round, emerald eyes. Red, full lips, that begged to be kissed. Again. And what a kiss it had been. Best ten seconds of his day. No, make that year. "Let me get your bag." Jillian hurried behind the counter. "Are you busy tonight?" Erin wrapped her fingers around his arm. Busy? The grand opening of his hotel was Monday morning and it was Saturday. No, he had all the time in the world.

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He'd only taken the break to the mall because if he hadn't, there would be no going until the next decade. The paparazzi hadn't picked up on him settling in town. Yet. So, until Monday, to the tiny seaside locale he was still an indistinguishable, normal guy who was able to move around freely. "Jill's my maid of honor, her ex-fiancé is the best man, and she really could use a hot date tonight. Interested?" Erin gave his arm a squeeze. Jillian's cheeks blazed in embarrassment again as she rounded the counter. "Erin! How could you? Isn't there somewhere you need to be right now?" "Nope. My day is wide open. And you're right, he's perfect. Perfect for tonight," Erin answered. Jillian rolled her eyes heavenward and let out a short sigh. Did he hear Erin correctly? Jillian needed a date for the night, and he could be the lucky man? He contemplated that one for exactly half a millisecond. Hell yeah, he'd gladly accompany her to a wedding. "Let's see if I can make my subtle hint any clearer for you, Erin. If you don't get out of my shop right now, not only will you be minus one maid of honor, you'll not have a single flower present tonight, or-" "A rainbow of condoms tied to your car." Garrett's mouth twitched with amusement. "Hmmm." Erin gazed at him. "I like you." "Erin." Jillian pointed toward the exit. "Remember what I said, Jill, and take a chance." The door jingled as Erin exited. Jillian slowly turned to face him and bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry I kissed you. It's just that she gets me all flustered. I lost my head for a moment, and I'd been drinking champagne-" "I'm not sorry. Feel free to kiss me anytime.” Jillian lowered her head and fidgeted with her apron hem. She had no idea how cute and revitalizing bashfulness was to him. He seemed to only attract brazen, out-for-what-they-can-get women. "So you need an escort tonight to make an old flame jealous?" "Jealous, no." She shoved her hands in her pockets. "But it would be nice to show up with someone. Otherwise he'll still think I'm pining away for him."

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What did he have to lose? The short-lived trip to no-one-knows-me land would all be over Monday morning and the circus of his life would begin again in full force. "What time should I pick you up?" "You can't be serious? You would really go with me?" Who wouldn't want to go with you? I'm shocked I don't have to knock out ten men for the sheer honor. "I think it would be fun to torment your former fiancé. Let's give him a real show. Tonight you act like the sun rises and sets with me, and I'll act enamored with you. We’ll give him reason to wish he was the one with you instead of me." Jillian drew her finger to her mouth and nibbled on her nail. "Why not? Let's do it. Pick me up at six."

Garrett McGuinness fell back into his old, comfy green college-days tacky chair, which happened to be the only item in his classically decorated executive office that wasn't brand spanking new. His chair creaked as he relaxed back, slid his hands behind his head, and crossed one of his Italian-leather sheathed feet causally atop the opposite ankle. The view from the sixteen-story hotel overlooked the Atlantic Ocean on one side and the Sequoia River on the other. The breathtaking sight rivaled that of any hotel he'd ever had the pleasure of staying in. He was done with the fast paced, surface-level lifestyle he had in New York. He wanted to be with real people, date genuine women, and hopefully start a family of his own. Sounded logical. He rubbed his hand over his mouth. Why couldn't he wipe the silly grin off his face? It'd been two hours since he'd left Jillian and he could still feel the softness of her lips against his. The kiss, though quick, left a lasting impression. Christ, what a damn fine day. "You look like you're plotting something good." Garrett's brother Wyatt breezed into the office. At thirty, Wyatt was one year younger than Garrett and they shared a twin-like resemblance. From the back, people frequently got them confused. "Just the man I needed to see." Garrett turned his gaze to his brother.

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Wyatt strolled to the wet bar at the corner office. He withdrew a bottle of water from the full size refrigerator camouflaged into the oak paneled wall. "Can I get you a drink? You don't have much to choose from, water or water." "No thanks." Garrett placed both feet on the wood floor. "I was wondering, is the condo on the beach available?" His brother strode to the chair stationed in front of Garrett's large mahogany desk, turned the armless Queen Anne around, straddled it, and sat. "I had the last of my stuff removed last week." "Great. I'll move there." Garrett smiled. "Why? What's wrong with your suite? And what did you do to your hair?" Wyatt could keep a secret and maybe he'd even benefit from the plan. "I'm trying an experiment." "An experiment?" Wyatt lifted a brow. "You're joining the military?" "Buzz cuts are cool." "What's her name?" "Who?" "The who that likes a man with short hair." Wyatt said. "I told this rather stunning woman, who I'm seeing tonight, that my last name is Guinness. She doesn't know that I have a relationship to the string of McGuinness Hotels, and I'm trying to hide my identity." Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Lying is a great way to start off a relationship and it's not exactly you." "The only reason I'm going against my character and lying is because it's necessary." "Necessary?" "Monday morning, she, along with everyone else in this town, will learn who I am." He paused. "Haven't you ever wondered if a woman liked you for you, I mean really you? If you had nothing but the clothes on your back, would she be interested? Or is it all of this," Garrett made a wide gesture that encompassed his state-of the-art-office, "that keeps the women coming around?" Wyatt waited a moment. "I can see your point, but really, do you care why women come around as long as they do?"

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His brother wasn't ready to settle down. He still enjoyed the game too much. Garrett shrugged. "I guess I'm over it all." "That's a shame. Hearts are breaking all over the planet right now." "I doubt it. Name one woman we know who'd be with me if I had nothing." Wyatt was silent. Exactly his point. His brother took another gulp of his water. "Have you thought this lie through? Where do you work? Where are you from?" "I don't know, maybe I'll say I'm between jobs. And I already told Jillian I moved here from New York. Keep the lies to a minimum, then I won't screw up." Too badly. Last year, his father had retired and turned the company over to his five boys. They divided the business into zones. Garrett's zone just happened to be the Southeast. After careful planning, he'd picked the tiny, exclusive town of Magnolia Springs, Florida for his headquarters. "So your plan for this evening is to pick her up in what? Your Porsche, your Jag, or your Hummer, Mr. Man-Between-Jobs?" Garrett picked up a gold pen and flipped it between his fingers. "It's a special occasion. I could have rented a limousine." The hotel had a stockpile of sleek limousines sitting in the parking garage just waiting for the next celebrity or VIP to use. "Yeah, you can get away with a limousine for tonight, I guess, but I don't want to be left out of the fun. I want to be the chauffeur." Wyatt rocked forward in his chair. "I don't think so. I don't want you involved." "What else do I have to do tonight?" Wyatt asked. "Go out with Marissa Frenchy again?" The supermodel had been staying at his hotel for the past three days and Wyatt and she hadn't left her suite. "Maybe you could take her to a movie?" "Naaa." "She's the hottest model out there right now. You could do far worse." "She’s boring! And she doesn't eat." Wyatt shook his head. "Ever?" "I haven't seen her put one thing in her mouth. Well, nothing edible, that is."

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Perfect example of why he'd be going out with Jillian tonight. Garrett wanted a real woman, not a spoiled superstar, a waif of a model, or a snob. "I'm calling Jillian." Garrett placed the pen into its holder. "I don't have directions to her house." Also, he needed to hear her voice again. Which was an odd desire for him, but he rolled with it. "Put her on speaker phone," Wyatt urged. Garrett shook his head and picked up the receiver. Withdrawing the business card Jillian had given him, he dialed the cell phone number she'd scribbled on the back. She picked up on the first ring. "Hello? Erin, I'm not wearing my hair that high." "Hey, sexy date." A big smile crept to his lips. "Are you girls getting beautiful for tonight?" Wyatt pushed the speakerphone button. Garrett hadn't yet figured out the buttons on the phone. So instead of risking losing the connection, he set down the receiver. If Wyatt were closer, he'd slug him. "Hi Garr-hey! Erin!" Muffled thumps and then a crash ensued. “Garrett, this is Erin. Jillian tells me you two are going to put on quite the show tonight." "That's the plan." Garrett smiled again. He was slowly turning into a smile freak. Not a great look for a CEO. "This is so exciting." Erin gleefully screamed. "I'm going to let you talk to Jillian now-." "Erin." "Yes?" "Do me a favor. Let her wear her hair down tonight." "For you, anything. But I want to see some smoke coming from your table, okay? Make Kent jealous as hell." "I guarantee you'll want to call the fire department." He covered the speaker and cut his gaze to his brother. "If she wasn't getting married, she'd be the girl for you." "Hello?" Jillian's sweet voice filled his office. "I know you're busy, but I just wanted to call to get your address," he looked at Wyatt and grinned, "and to tell you how much I'll enjoy putting my tongue in your ear tonight." Cling, clang, boom sounds crashed from the speaker.

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"Jillian? Are you still there?" Had she hung up on him? "Umm, hello," Jillian softly began, "I seem to have dropped the phone." He threw back his head and let out a great peal of laughter. He'd flustered her. Hell, he'd flustered himself. After regaining his composure, he said, "I just wanted to get you in the mood for tonight." "You did a great job." She mumbled through odd crunching noises. "I think I might need a cold shower." "Cold showers are for men. Are you biting your finger nails?" "No… well, yes." How could a sexy woman like her act so shy and timid? Was this her game with men? Or was she real? Only time would tell. Unfortunately, he lacked that commodity. "I could continue where I left off and describe where my tongue's going next." "My address is thirty-four Silver Trail Way. Apartment B." The words flew out of her mouth as fast as the bullet train. He laughed again. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed this much in one day, or this much in a week for that matter. "What's your favorite color?" "Pink. Ouch . . . stop it . . . why are you now taking the pins out? Listen, I have to run while I still have hair left on my head. See you tonight," she said, before the connection went dead. Garrett punched the speakerphone button and the signal died. "Am I going to have fun tonight or what?" "You're definitely going to have something tonight. I'm just not sure what." Damn if Wyatt wasn't smiling, too. **** Here goes nothing. Jillian sat at her vanity table and dabbed perfume on her wrists. She watched the reflection of her snow white Persian cat in the makeup mirror. "Don't look at me like that, Petunia. I know a one-night fling goes against everything I stand for, but I need this. I really, really need this."

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She'd taken Erin's advice and given the whole one-night stand a second thought. After all, thinking about it didn't mean she had to actually go through with it. A thought meant she could, if she decided to, but she hadn't decided to, right? Wrong. The instant the bells had chimed when Garrett exited her flower shop, she'd made up her mind. Maybe the last vision of him and his tight rear end sealed her fate. Maybe the simple fact that her vibrator's batteries had finally conked out drove home her decision. Whatever clinched the deal, she wasn't complaining. Tonight meant no worries, no second thoughts, and no strings attached. It had been far too long since she'd felt a naked, warm body lying next to her, or large, manly hands softly caressing her, or an orgasm brought on by someone other than herself. She really, really needed this. Jillian had even taken some extra special efforts for tonight's adventure. She'd bought matching bra and panties, hidden her toothbrush in her itty-bitty purse, and let Erin talk her into a Brazilian bikini wax. Before today, Jillian's idea of a Brazilin wax consisted of a wax while vacationing in Brazil. How wrong she'd been. A few hours ago, she'd experienced the hard-core world of waxing. Even now, she winced from the memory of the pain. She placed the perfume back on her vanity table and picked up a shimmery pink lipgloss. As she brushed the wand over her lips, the sensation triggered the memory of the kiss she'd stolen from Garrett. Something torrid had smoldered through her with the intimate contact. Something hot like molten lava. That powerful kiss had been the reason she agreed to this sham tonight, and his big dimples were the reason for the painful wax. This one time, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am could really work out well. Maybe she was even on to something. Who was she kidding? Tonight would be a one-time deal, no exceptions. It would be her only trip to sex fantasyland, and one she would hopefully never forget. And holy crud, she couldn't have designed a more attractive partner if she tried. The only slight problem she foresaw for this evening was the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. The sickening sensation reminded her of the anticipation when riding on a roller

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coaster. It was the moment when you started to doubt your sanity for jumping on the ride in the first place, mixed with the mind-blowing adrenaline rush just as you plummeted down the first descent. Petunia leapt onto her lap. "Tonight will be an out of body experience for sure, but it could jump-start my dating life." She stroked her cat's fur. And then it hit her. For the first time in a long while she felt alive. Truly, absolutely alive. And oh, what a feeling. No financial worries tonight, no thoughts of her shop at all. Tonight was just about her and what made her happy. The doorbell rang. She jumped and dropped the tube of lip gloss and her cat. Relax, Jillian. This is no big deal. Inhale, exhale, and just breathe. She all but ran to the door, stopped before opening it, then back stepped to the hall mirror. One last glance. All of her hair was in place, her make-up applied heavily. And her skimpy maid of honor dress hung as low as the satin material would allow. Only Erin would have hoochie mama dresses for her attendants to wear. Somehow, though, anything less wouldn't have seemed right. She placed her hand on the doorknob. Too late to turn back now. Jillian pulled open the door.

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CHAPTER THREE

Whoa! Her whole world froze. Dressed in a tuxedo that looked like it had been tailored for him stood a too-goodlooking-for-words man. Her gaze leisurely roamed his face, his upper body, and his lower half, too, making sure she hit the finer points. Twice. Boy, he looked good in a tux. The black jacket squared his shoulders to perfection. The crisp, white shirt contrasted with his bronze skin, and the smile he wore showed he felt as confident wearing the tuxedo as he looked in it. Anyone who said men dressed in tuxes looked like penguins clearly hadn't experienced the sight of Garrett Guinness in one. She cleared her throat. Wonder if that sexy chest feels as rock hard as it looks. "Hi." His voice sent a brief shiver rippling through her. "Please, come in." She moved from the doorway. Breathe. Garrett strolled past, leaving a wake of wild, exotic spices dancing in the air, which totally turned her on further, if that was possible. Poor Garrett had no clue that in a few hours one sex-deprived lady would be attacking him. "Can I get you a drink?" "No thanks. You know, I don't think you actually need me tonight." Oh no! He was having second thoughts already. What happened? Maybe she didn't look good. Was it her eye shadow? She'd put on too much. Or was it the hair? The hair could be fixed. She should have worn the darn pushup bra. "Why don't I need you tonight?" "Once your ex-fiancé gets a load of you in that dress, he's going to wonder why the hell he let you slip through his fingers."

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A compliment? A huge, fabulous compliment. How sweet. "Thank you." Something was different about him. Something had changed since the mall. "Your hair!" "That bad, huh?" He rubbed his hand over the spiky tips. "Bad? No." Short hair on a man was summed up in two words. Yumm-meee. He folded his arms over his broad chest. "If I were Erin, I wouldn't want you anywhere near me tonight. No one in that church is going to give her a second glance after you walk down the aisle." Okay, second sweetest thing he'd said to her in the span of thirty seconds. And the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Viewing her ex-fiancé with the woman he'd left Jillian for would be hard enough. A few uplifting compliments meant the world to her at this moment. "You know, you don't have to be so nice to me just because you’re my date for the night." She took a small step toward him. "I'll remember that." Her finger touched the lapel of his jacket. "I'm surprised you were able to rent a tux, with such short notice. Especially finding one that fits you so well." "Sometimes you just get lucky." He swept away a curl from her cheek. When had they drifted so close? And why did it feel so natural? Startled, Jillian took a step back and dropped her arm. "Are you ready? We should get going." Garrett grinned and reached into his jacket pocket. "I brought something for you." He extracted a pink envelope and handed it to her. "Is this why you asked me for my favorite color?" He winked. "Maybe." She quickly opened the envelope and pulled out a gift card to Candace's Coffee Shop. "Now you don't have to worry about coffee money." Garrett explained. Was this man for real? Men didn't bring faux-dates gifts. "Thank you. This is really nice, and thoughtful. But you really didn't have to bring me anything." "Well, I wanted to." A warm grin filled his face. Should she hug him? His big dimples materialized, and it became crystal clear. Oh yeah, it was definitely time to hug him.

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Apprehensively, Jillian took the steps needed to get close. She placed her hands on his upper arms and, holy cow, he didn't jerk away. She leaned further into the wall of his chest, quickly squeezed, then stepped back again. Why all of a sudden had she become a total nervous nitwit? He placed his hands in his pockets and rocked backward on his heels. "You know, Jillian, if we're supposed to be a hot item, you can't back away from me. No one's going to believe us." He had a good point. "We need to be comfortable together, like lovers." She gulped hard. Lovers? "And lovers are relaxed around each other." His deep voice was soothing. "We need to touch each other naturally, affectionately, especially for tonight's show to be believable." With what she'd planned for him tonight, touching definitely needed to be natural. "You know, you're right." "Let's start with this." He reached out and laced his strong fingers with hers. The warmth of his hands shot a sizzling tingle straight up her arm. Dear God. "Let's get a little closer, too." He took a step toward her. His voice comforted and relaxed her as his touch warmed her like a fluffy towel fresh from the dryer. It was like they'd been in this position a hundred times before. "All righty," she said, and took another step closer. He gazed at her and waited. Why was he treating her like a virgin on her first date? Jillian was nervous, that much was true, and she wanted to take things slow. But maybe this was a little too slow even for her. She looked up at Garrett. He stood before her tenderly holding her hands in his warm clasp. It really would be a shame when the date ended. If she wasn't determined to have this one night of wild passion, she might let nature take its course. They would hold hands tonight, maybe get a good night kiss on date two, and work their way up to missionary-style sex. Unfortunately, she didn't have that kind of time. She needed to get this date going in a passionate direction, and she needed to do it pronto. Do or die time, Jillian. Kiss this hunk now or never. She leaned forward toward his soft lips.

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But he stopped her. "My turn to lead." Jillian's heartbeat skyrocketed, and her blood went coursing through her veins like a storm-tossed river. Garrett gently pulled her toward his chest and placed his mouth over hers. His tongue's tip outlined her lips with tenderness. He forged through her quaking lips and urged her to participate with the kiss. He teased her tongue, tormenting her with rhythmic strokes. She savored every nibble and every fervent demand, allowing herself to just enjoy the moment. Moments blended as he pulled away bit-by-bit. Garrett wrapped one arm loosely around her midriff and, with the other hand, traced her swollen lips. "Do you feel more comfortable with me now?" Jillian snaked her arm around his neck. She slid her fingertips across his spiky hair, pulling him toward her again. She wanted more. Reclaiming his lips, more demanding than even she thought possible, she forced his lips open with her thrusting tongue. As quickly as it started, she pulled away. "Yes." Her breath shallow. "Now, I believe I feel comfortable with you."

Garrett and Jillian stepped into the dewy night air as the soft ocean breeze rustled the palm trees. The warm summer evening clung to the last touches of a pinkish-orange hue as the sun sizzled into the horizon. A sleek, black limousine waited for them at the end of the flower-flanked walkway with his chauffeur brother holding the vehicle's door open. For some reason, he'd foolishly given into his brother's request. Jillian abruptly stopped. Garrett fumbled not to crush her. "Problem?" He steadied himself. She gasped. "Did you rent a limo for us?!" Her face glowed with pure excitement, like a child entering Disney World. "I have the pleasure of escorting the maid of honor, and she needs to arrive in grand style." She didn't move. Didn't say a word. Just observed him. "I'm utterly speechless. You really didn't have to do all of this for me. It's so surprising and sweet."

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What had he done? Jillian's cheeks held a touch of red. "You say and do some of the nicest things and you don't even know me. Unbelievable compliments, a gift card in a pink envelope and now a limousine. I don't know what to say." Whoa. What a one eighty. Women generally expected everything from him. If they didn't receive it, he had the grand pleasure of spending the evening with a pouting, depressed woman. Shocking to know there were still unspoiled females like Jillian who appreciated the little gestures, too. Ironic how with a little appreciation, he yearned to give her so much more. "It was nothing, really. But I'm glad I could make you happy." They continued toward the car. "Ma'am. Sir. Good evening." Chauffeur Wyatt bowed. Garrett rolled his eyes. Wyatt held out his hand for Jillian and helped her into the limousine. "Thank you." She eased onto the leather seat and slid to the far window. "You're welcome." Wyatt gave a smirk and raised his brow. "Well, now I understand." He whispered to Garrett. Garrett ignored his brother, entered the car, and slid next to her. Their thighs brushed. When had she become so drop-dead-gorgeous? She'd been sexy as hell when he'd first met her, but now, scantily clad in the barely-there dress, she'd become assured and seductive, yet still had the eyes of a naïve girl. The dress looked beautiful on her, but he couldn't get his mind off how much better it would look in a pool of purple lying at her feet. He stretched his arm across the back of the seat and got comfortable. A gust of wind from the air conditioner settled her curls on his sleeve. Tonight was off to an excellent start and it felt so unbelievably comfortable. Like he'd known her forever. "I've been wondering something for a very long time." Her gaze roamed the back of the limousine. He'd also been wondering a few things tonight.

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"What do you think it's like to have sex in the back of a limousine?" Jillian used her fingertips to test the comfort level of the vehicle's seat. He fought hard to hold back a chuckle. Was she mind reader? "Do you think it's dangerous, because at any moment the driver could bring down the partition? Or do you think it's thrilling knowing mere inches away from you sit strangers in their cars?" Never in a million years would he have thought backseat sex would be the first topic they'd discuss. Why in the hell was she asking him a loaded question like that? He had to fight the urge not to pull her down on the seat and show her just how damn good backseat sex could be? "Well, it is dangerous and thrilling, but I prefer the intimacy of a private room." "Really?" She looked up at him and actually seemed shocked. "Really." Jillian mumbled something under her breath that sounded an awful lot like, "Just my luck." Had he judged her too quickly? Could there be a wild woman behind that meek mannered, innocent façade? Heaven help him if she encouraged his almost pubescently-raging hormones tonight. He needed to become a little less attentive to her. "Would you care for some champagne?" Garrett reached for a bottle of Cristal. "I'd love some." He uncorked the chilled bottle, filled two glasses, then handed one to Jillian. "How angry do we want to make your ex tonight?" "Livid." She took a sip. He studied her for a moment. Her dainty fingers curled around the stem and continued to tighten until her knuckles washed white. "Was he that bad?" "Worse." She placed her glass into a holder. "I was thinking that if people ask me questions about you I should be able to answer them." Averting the "ex" subject was never a good sign. She'd aroused his curiosity, but he'd let the topic slide. "What kinds of questions do you think people will ask?" He took a sip.

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"Women will want to know if you've been married before." She stopped and waited for a reply. "I have not." "When's your birthday?" she continued. "October 20th." "And do you have any cute brothers?" He cocked a brow. "What?" Wyatt cleared his throat. She smiled. "Trust me, they'll want to know." "I have four younger brothers, but I'm definitely the best looking one of the bunch." Wyatt coughed like he was dislodging a chicken bone. "Is there a problem, up there?" Garrett wanted to backhand his pain in the ass brother. "No problem sir. Just a lie, er, fly caught in my throat." Wyatt smiled. His smugness caught in the rear view mirror. Garrett raised the partition. "Where were we?" "We're getting our story straight for tonight." "Right. What's the next question?" "What do you do for a living, and what's your drink of choice?" "I'm actively seeking employment, and I generally drink scotch, but with a gorgeous woman in a limousine I drink champagne." Jillian waited a beat and then two. "What are you qualified to do?" "I can do anything." He winked. "Interesting, and good to know." She giggled. "I mean for work. What are you qualified to do for work." She had a delicious laugh. "Are you hiring?" He took another sip from his glass. "I wish I were." "If you were, would you consider hiring me?" "I would hire anyone at this point. I need help so badly, I just can't afford it. No, no. Let's not talk about work tonight." She turned her attention to the blurring lights outside the vehicle. And then she screamed. "What kind of maid of honor am I?" Was this a rhetorical question? "What's wrong?"

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She placed one hand on her forehead and turned to Garrett wide-eyed. "I only forgot the most important things for tonight." Uh-oh. "The rings." "No! More important than the rings. I forgot the something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue." "What're you talking about?" "It's the tradition. The bride needs all of those things with her when she gets married, or she'll have bad luck." "Are you serious?" He didn't wait for her to give an answer. He simply leaned forward, pushed a button, and the partition began to descend.

"I'll get the driver to turn the car around. We'll go back to

your apartment and grab the new, blue, whatever things that you need." "No! I forgot to even buy them." She covered her eyes. "What kind of best friend am I?" She was seriously stressed by this. Okay, no problem. He scanned the passing establishments. Where could he find the needed things? A liquor store? No. A doughnut shop? No. A quickie mart? . . . Yes! Sahara's Quickie Mart would have to do. Garrett shouted to his brother. "Pull over. We have an emergency." Garrett and Jillian entered the store in a full sprint. The quickie mart was empty of patrons and the lone clerk was haphazardly stacking baby food on the shelves. Jillian ran down the first aisle, and he took the last. What was he searching for? "You get something borrowed and something blue," Jillian must have read his mind. Thank God he wouldn't be a maid of honor. Too damn much stuff to remember. The best man had it so easy. If the roles had been reversed today, and he was the best man in this wedding, they'd still be stopping at this convenience store, but the purchases would be quite different. The best man had only one task: get beer.

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Holding the rings was always a big deal, but come on, the best man frequently forgot them. Most people, excluding the bride, of course, secretly hope the best man would forget the rings. The lack of responsibility always brought a spice of humor to the otherwise formal day. Something blue, something borrowed, something blue, something borrowed. He paced the isle. "I've got blue!" he shouted and grabbed the item. On to something borrowed. He ran to the next aisle, turned the corner on one leg and stepped on the clerk's hand with the other. "Duuuude!" the boy wailed. "I'm sorry I didn't see you down there… Josh." Garrett retrieved the boy's name badge from the floor and helped him up. "Can I get you some ice for your hand?" "I'll be fine." The bleached blond dreadlock-haired boy cautiously took back his badge. Favoring the injured hand, Josh dusted himself off and refastened his name tag to his shirt. A light bulb shown brightly over Garrett's head. "Josh, wanna make twenty bucks?" "Dude, I don't know." Josh painfully flexed his injured fingers. Garrett reached for his wallet. "Let me borrow your name tag for a few hours." "No way dude. You get in a lot of trouble if you lose your badge." "I'll give you fifty bucks, and I'll have it back before midnight." "I can't loose this J-O-B. I have my eyes set on this rad surfboard that I'm stoked to buy." "I'll bring your name tag back. I promise. I only want to borrow it. No one will ever know, and it'll be back on your shirt before you leave tonight." Josh swayed from foot to foot. "Dude, you're putting me in a bad position." "Five hundred." "The tag is yours." "No, I have to borrow it." "Whatever, dude." Garrett fled to the aisle he'd watched Jillian turn down. "I have my things." He found her squatting with hair accessories sprawled around her. "I found my stuff, too. We're outta here."

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She bounced up, and together they jogged to the checkout stand where they tossed their items on the counter. "Your something blue is gum?" Jillian seemed a little less than impressed. Was that wrong? Garrett scratched his head. "I figured she'd have her blue item and fresh breath." "Just great. I can see Erin now, popping bubbles up at the altar." "Well, at least mine makes sense. Why do you have two of the same thing?" He pointed to her identical packages. "This box of bobby pins is new, and this box I had to blow dust off of, so they're old." Garrett snickered. "You're serious?" "It's as bad as your blue gum, isn't it?" "It might be worse." "Ugh. I'm such a bad friend." They reentered the limousine and once again set off for the wedding. Jillian laid her hand on his knee in an appreciative gesture. "Thanks for helping me back there. And thanks for tonight. If you ever have a girlfriend you want to rile, or if you need a date to get your parents off your back, I'll be there for you, too." "Well, now that's an offer I can't refuse." He covered her fingers with his. The only illumination in the car was the row of twinkle lights that bordered the bar, which he found sinfully romantic in a very familiar sort of way. Too many nights had this same beginning. The limousine, the champagne, using the ambience as foreplay… He wanted more for her. Something special. The fragrance she wore drove him mind-numbingly mad. The delicate perfume had a light, fresh scent like an exquisite bouquet. She smelled too damn good not to have contact with her. Yet touching her fingers wasn't enough. "How long should we say we've been an item?" Jillian withdrew her hand from his. Damn. He enjoyed touching her. The passion that filled him for this girl was freaking unbelievable. Focusing on the dilemma and not on her was a huge challenge.

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"Six weeks ago," he cleared his throat, "I walked into your flower shop. I wanted to send some flowers to my ailing grandmother. You suggested I send her tulips. I agreed. You asked me out. And I graciously accepted." "Wait just a minute. I don't want to sound forward. You asked me out, and I was the one who accepted." Garrett grinned. "You don't want to be forward? At your shop today, you kissed me— with tongue—and we'd only known each other fifteen minutes. I'm not complaining, but I consider that forward." "Today was a major exception." Too bad for him. "For the sake of our story, we’ll say I asked you out. We went to a sports bar, had chicken wings, and discussed football, golf, and ESPN." "Discussing football, golf, and ESPN isn't exactly what I picture as a romantic first date for us." "What would you suggest, then?" God, was it supposed to be this fun hanging out with a woman? "We dined in a Japanese restaurant and had sushi with sake. We discussed traveling to Europe, picnicking on a hillside, and sipping red wine while nibbling French cheese." Her eyes sparkled. "What kind of man am I, anyway?" "You're a hopeless romantic." She outlined a heart on his chest. Garrett chuckled. "Fine. Whatever. We talked about cheese, wine, and the countryside. But then you came back to my place, and we had the most mind-blowing sex of our lives." "What! No, we did not! We went out several times, on several dates before we even kissed." "You can't be serious . . . So, when did we-" "Make love?" "Yes, when did you and I make love for the first time?" She was adorable, completely adorable, and he could barely keep a straight face. "We haven't yet. But tonight after the dancing, the romantic wedding, and the very public display of affection, we go back to the hotel room that I secretly rented for us. We make love all night long and all morning, too."

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"Now, that does sound nice. And I like that you gave me a hearty sex drive." "Yes, well, the very least I can do is make you a bed stallion." "I appreciate it, especially after making me wait for weeks with nothing more than a peck on the lips." She tried to hide a grin. The limousine stopped, and they both looked at the little, white chapel. "Are you ready for tonight?" she asked. Garrett didn't want the playful banter to end. He'd truly enjoyed himself. He also selfishly didn't want to share her tonight. Instead, he wanted to keep up the camaraderie and continue driving. But right now, giving her ex-fiancé a show meant the world to Jillian. And if it meant that much to her, he would give the pretense all he had. "It's show time."

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CHAPTER FOUR

"My husband has four hickies on his neck!" Erin screamed, rage lighting her eyes. Her voice echoed through the hotel lobby's lavish bathroom. "I just got married to a man who came to the altar with love bites from another woman!" "Where did he go last night, anyway?" Kneeling, Jillian bustled Erin's train. "Apparently that good-for-nothing ex-fiancé of yours took my husband out to a strip club and paid for some slut in stilettos to mark him up. If he thinks for one moment he's getting anything from me after this reception, he is so crazy." Jillian stood. "Erin, Kent's a jerk. He knew this would upset you. Don't let him win." Erin twirled, sending billows of silk tumbling behind her. "I know you think I'm crazy for marrying into that family. But Michael's nothing like Kent. He's sweet and kind and has a hu-uuge-" "Over-sharing, Erin! Really! That's way more than I need to know." Kent and his brother Michael were savvy, generous, and suave men. Unfortunately, even with good attributes, Kent lacked the ability to keep his mouse in his house. Which is why many misjudged his character. Michael, on the other hand, appeared amiable. Except a little voice in wee corner of Jillian's mind continually reminded her that the brothers constantly hung out together. But for Erin's sake, Jillian hoped her little voice was wrong. Really wrong. "Erin, if I thought Michael were anything like Kent, you wouldn't be a married woman right now. I wouldn't have let you go through with it." Would Garrett be the kind of man who let a woman give him hickies the night before his wedding? He didn't seem like the type. What kind of husband would Garrett be? One who would cheat, or a completely faithful man? Something about him exuded honesty, yet she had her doubts that any man could be completely faithful. She’d witnessed her own father’s infidelity too often through the years.

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Erin wrapped her arms around Jillian and squeezed. "I don't say it enough, Jill, but you truly are a good friend, and you know that? And you know your date is a hottie. Everyone is wondering who he is, what he does, and where you met him—especially Kent. He's already cornered me with a million questions. He's completely out of his mind with jealousy." "Kent's a little too late to be jealous." "I hear ya." Erin gave her breasts a lift. "So, have you banged Garrett yet?” "Jeez." Jillian might have in her mind, though. "Look, I'm an old married woman now. I need to live vicariously through you." "You've been married for less than an hour, and you're twenty-five, which hardly makes you old." "You're twenty-five, and I think you're old." "Thanks a lot." Jillian took a tissue and blotted her lipstick. "I'm leaving you now to go and enjoy your reception. You stay in this bathroom, sulk over your husband's hickey necklace, and plot out what TV shows you'll be watching tonight instead of consummating your marriage." "Oh, the marriage has already been consummated." Why didn't this surprise her? "When have you found time?" "In the limo on the ride over, and it was amazing. But he's not getting any more from me tonight." Erin straightened her veil. "You think Garrett would do it in a limousine?" Jillian tossed the pink-stained tissue in the trash. "No. I already asked him." "What!" Erin gave her full attention to her friend. "You asked him to have sex with you in a limo, and he said no?" "No. He just said he preferred a bed." "Then what are you waiting for? Go try it out. Use ours. It's parked out front and stocked with condoms." "I think I'll pass." "The offer is there all night. Why don't you surprise me and be adventurous." Jillian winked at her friend. "Have fun tonight. You deserve happiness." "You deserve happiness, too. The flowers and my maid of honor have made my wedding. Thank you for both." "Don't go getting sentimental on me. I've had tears spilling all through the wedding. No more crying for me." Jillian kissed Erin's cheek, scooped up her purse, then ducked out of the

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bathroom. She turned to locate her date, but slammed into the wall of his chest instead. "Sorry, II-" His muscles were rock hard, just like she'd suspected. She let her hands linger a moment longer than necessary, then stepped back. "Hi." "Hey." Garrett smiled. He'd grown sexier since she'd last seen him. "Have you been waiting out here for me?" "Waiting for you is my only job tonight." He really said the darndest things that had a way of sending butterflies to her stomach. "Kent is watching us." Garrett's shot his gaze over her left shoulder. "And he looks a little irritated." Jillian closed the distance between them. Using her fingertips, she lightly brushed up his chest, feeling the contours of each and every tight muscle. "Let's see if we can infuriate him, further. Shall we?" He quickly began his part of the charade and stroked his finger across the hollow of her neck. She reminded her body this was merely a sham, but a wave of eagerness reverberated through her anyway. She clutched his shoulders, and her mouth went dry. A low moan escaped from his lips. Wow, he was quite the actor. He even had her believing this wasn't just a game. Where did Erin say the limousine was parked? He leaned toward her and their mouths connected. The kiss instantaneously combusted, and heat soared through her body. Their tongues intertwined, his grip tightened, and he robbed her breath. Her body tingled from the heated contact, and she fully enjoyed the way her belly tightened into a ball. She savored the taste of him as his warm tongue captured hers and pulled her deeper into his seductive mouth. Garrett's strong hands skimmed lightly over her shoulders, down her back, and around the swells of her backside. Excitement, warm and electric, burst up her spine. He was a virtual stranger, but she’d never felt more safe in a man’s embrace. Go for it! Tonight is totally off the record.

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She again granted herself permission to be whoever she wanted to be. And to do whatever she wanted to do. For tonight only, of course. Taking her own advice, she thrust her fingers through his spiky hair. He moaned her name and squeezed her bottom, which electrified her. Had kissing ever felt this good before? Suddenly, his touch slowed. His hands softly ascended to her waist, then moved across her stomach, finally stopping below her breasts. She should pull away. But she couldn't. The pleasure became too intense, and it was all she could do not move his hands an inch north. Tonight was all about the display, but this might be more than anyone in the reception needed to observe. They should find a bedroom or a car. Heck, she'd settle for a broom closet. Just as long as they moved from the public area, yet she couldn't make herself pull away. But he did. Garrett's blue eyes were ablaze, his lips moist, and all she could hear was the beat of her own heart. Or was it his heart? His mouth hovered a mere inch away from hers. Lust and passion hung heavy in the air. "We have company," he mouthed. "Really," she whispered. "When you turn around, I need you to stand in front of me for a minute." Garrett adjusted the top of her gown. Garrett's show of excitement was apparent even through his pants. "Did I do that?" Jillian smiled a wry smile. He slowly spun her around lowered his head to her ear. "Well, it certainly wasn't because of him." "Jilly." A familiar voice muttered her name. No preparation could make her ready for this moment. to cover her happy nipples. "Who's your friend?" "Garrett Guinness. My date."

"Kent." She crossed her arms

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When did Kent get so short and scrawny? Even though the men weren't standing side by side, she could tell Garrett was a good head taller then Kent and much broader, too. Love was truly blind. Kent's nostrils flared with fury. "I-I expected you to be here alone tonight. I was told you weren't bringing a guest." In life, there were a few moments when a woman wished she had a camera to capture a look. Then later, when she's feeling blue and carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders she could resurrect those precious moments. And maybe, just for a brief instant, everything in her life would seem sunny and bright once again. Right now, Jillian would have sold her shop for that camera. Watching Kent’s expression harden, pure joy soared through her heart like the chimes of church bells after a beautiful, flower-filled wedding. "Clearly, you were told wrong." Kent held out his hand to Garrett. "I'm Kent Akins, Jilly's fiancé." "Ex-fiancé," she fired back. "You're my ex-fiancé." Garrett slid his hand to the small of her back, moved beside her, and took Kent's outstretched hand. If she'd even for one second wondered if bringing Garrett tonight was worth the stress, the matter was validated with the seething, glowering mask of rage on Kent's face. Kent's hostile glare measured Garrett's stature up and down like a boxer measures his opponent before a fight. "How's our little flower shop doing, Jilly?" Kent's stare remained fixed on Garrett. "It's my flower shop, and it's doing just fine," she lied. "The mall manager called me yesterday and told me you're late with the rent again." Kent finally gave his attention to Jillian. "I told you when we bought that shop to let me help you. I took care of the rent, and I would like to give you a little extra just in case any other late bills arise. Come out to dinner with me tomorrow night, baby, and we'll discuss making further financial arrangements." How easy would her life be if she simply slipped back on her engagement ring and patched things with Kent? No more financial worries. Ever again. But once a man breaks your heart beyond repair, there’s no turning back, even for financial stability.

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"She doesn't need your money, baby. I'll be taking care of her from now on." Garrett's voice cut through the air like a sharpened steel blade. Where did that comment come from? How heroic of him to pretend to take care of her. She could just kiss him. No. Kissing him was dangerous. When the two of them kissed, someone needed to be present with a fire extinguisher, and Kent didn't look like he'd come prepared. "I can take care of Jilly. We don't need your help." Kent snapped back. "How much to buy you out?" Garrett challenged with a voice that oozed authority. Garrett had really gotten into character. If she hadn't known the arrangement, she would have believed he honestly wanted to help her. "You haven't got the money." Kent stiffened. "Try me." "Look," Jillian stood between them and faced Kent. "Tonight is not the time or the place to discuss this. Right now, I need to go make sure the table arrangements are all in place." She twisted to Garrett. "And I need you to help me." "Lead the way," Garrett said simply, but his gaze never left Kent's. "Save a dance for me tonight. We have things still to talk about," Kent said over his shoulder as he turned on his heel. She exhaled with relief. "That went well, don't you think?" "Why didn't you tell me you were in financial trouble, Jilly?" "It's not exactly the icebreaker you say to a man you just met, and pleeeease don't call me Jilly. I never liked that nickname." "I would like to help you." It would be wonderful if someone could truly help her. Her business had become too financially straining for her to handle alone. Unfortunately, she needed the kind of help a man between jobs couldn't provide. "I'll be okay. I always manage." "Don't hesitate to ask, okay? I really can help you, just say the word." Garrett sounded so sincere. She wished he really could take her problems away. "You are helping me more than you know just by being here tonight." **** "Ladies and gentlemen, please join the bride and groom on the dance floor for their first dance," the DJ said in his soothing, radio voice.

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Garrett watched as Jillian politely accepted Kent the Pond Scum’s hand. It was inevitable for them to dance, considering she was the maid of honor and he was the best man. But it still bothered Garrett to the very core of his being. It also concerned him that he'd groped her in public like a horny teenager. Why was he acting so out of character? Jillian had consumed his thoughts, his mind, and unquestionably his body all day. But he usually kept things a little more "G" rated in public. God, he wanted her tonight. Sex on the first date was passé these days, yet if he didn't touch her or taste her again soon, he'd likely self-combust. At thirty-one, he'd figured he'd already felt most of the emotions that could be felt for a woman. Excitement, control, fear, anger. But with Jillian, he hadn't figured out exactly what his feelings were, and that scared him. He couldn't keep his hands off of her when they were together, and he wanted to physically harm her ex-fiancé for touching her now. Jealousy didn't generally affect him, but watching the sleaze ball twirl Jillian around the dance floor was becoming more than he could bear. She looked so elegant, so poised, and so beautiful. The way her barely-there dress showcased her luscious, creamy breasts, and the way the soft candlelight of the room glowed off her healthy skin, completely mesmerized him. And the fact that Kent had an up close view of all her attributes infuriated Garrett. Something about Jillian had struck a spark deep within him and it needed to be examined. A spark could mean just about anything. Maybe it was nothing more than curiosity about her panty status. Was she wearing a thong or not? It felt like a thong when he'd squeezed her butt, but she didn't seem like a thong kind of woman. Regardless of whether her panties were a thong or not, were they white, or black, or purple? Were they lacy or silky smooth? Did they have flowers or a bow? Or maybe . . . she wasn't wearing panties at all. Never had he given such thought to a woman's underwear before. Why couldn't he have x-ray vision like Superman and solve the mystery? Actually, it would be more fun to find out the old-fashioned way, no super powers needed. But he seriously doubted that would be happening.

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He was having an unbelievably hard time reading her thoughts. Usually he had the science of mind reading dead-on accurate, but this babe threw him for a loop. She needed him for a reason, not to begin a relationship. To Jillian, tonight was a business venture. Unfortunately for him, business was the last thing on his mind, especially when they kissed. He wanted her. And in the worst way. But did she want him? Did she feel the lust he felt? God, he hoped so. "Look at them dancing. I always thought Kent and Jillian made such a lovely pair. It's a shame they broke up." Kent's grandma patted Garrett's hand. "You two make a striking couple, too, dear." Garrett had found his place card sitting at a table of the groom's family. Considering they were Kent's family, too, it was the last place he wanted to be. "Thank you, ma'am." Garrett half smiled. "I don't think Kent's given up on her just yet. If you want to keep her, son, you shouldn't let the two of them dance so close together," Kent's grandfather added. "I'll remember that, sir." "Kent says he's just giving her some breathing room to come to her senses. I think Jillian's playing hard to get, but if she knows what's good for her, she'll marry Kent. He's quite the catch, you know." An aunt in a purple hat expressed to the table. Then everyone at the table had their interpretation of the couple’s relationship and decided to share their thoughts. With all the new information uncovered, Garrett did a little analyzing of his own. Was Jillian merely using him to win Kent back? Garrett had assumed it was over between her and Kent. No, Jillian said it was over between them. Right? He couldn't remember any more. Why all of a sudden did he care so much? Because he liked her. And he couldn't take it if she was still in love with Kent. When Kent introduced himself, he'd said Jillian was his fiancée. You just don't assume that status if both parties know it's over, right? The song ended and the couples strolled back to their seats. Jillian approached the table and turned out of Kent's hold. Kent made a grab to regain possession of her arm, but in one fluid motion, she'd sunk into Garrett's lap.

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Her flowery fragrance swirled around him, and her soft skin pressing against him sent pleasant warmth throughout his body. "I missed you out there. Did you miss me, sugar bear?" Jillian playfully asked loud enough for the table of guests to overhear. Then she wrapped her arm seductively around Garrett's neck and nibbled his ear. "Everyone thinks I'm still with Kent," she whispered. "We need to take the show up a notch." The table of guests looked from Jillian, to Kent, to Garrett. "I missed you very much, too, sweetheart." He drew an imaginary line up her arm. "I guess we'll talk more later, Jilly." Kent's lips puckered with annoyance. "Maybe, but I doubt I'll have any more free time." Jillian wiggled provocatively on Garrett's lap. Garrett wanted to send a na, na, na-na, na smirk to Kent but thought the better of it. Had he really resorted to elementary school jabs? What would be next? Would they stick their tongues out at each other or meet behind the schoolhouse for a fistfight? This needed to end. Was Jillian still in love with the pond scum? Yes or no—he had to know. "Dance with me." "Anything for you, sugar bear." She kissed his forehead with a loud smack. Laying his fingertips on the small of her back, Garrett led her to the dance floor, where the DJ was playing “The Way You Look Tonight.” Perfect. He was in no mood for the chicken dance. He held Jillian's hand in his, pulled her close to his body, and wrapped his other arm around her waist. "Kent may not forgive you if he thinks we're really together tonight." "I don't care what Kent thinks." "Really, because that's not what I'm seeing." "What do you mean?" "My whole table thinks you two will get back together, Kent has been completely ignoring his very ample bosomed date, and you seemed very cozy dancing with him. Almost like you were a happy couple in love." Had he really voiced all that insecurity aloud? "Are you jealous?" Jeez, he was Garrett-freaking-McGuinness, he was worth millions, he had homes all over the world, and he was even the owner of a football team. "Hell, no, I'm not jealous."

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But shit… He was. "Well, Garrett Guinness, I guess I never thought a big strong man like you would get jealous over a guy like Kent. Maybe I should do something to make you forget all about mean scary, ole Kent." Jillian drew their laced fingers to her lips. She stared at him with sultry eyes as she kissed each of his knuckles. Her eyelids closed and she let out a moan soft enough for only him to hear. Jillian repeated the process several times before softly raking her teeth over his flesh, slowly nibbling away all the stress he'd been feeling. She reopened her eyes, lust sprinkled throughout her face. Damn, she was good at torturing him. "Let's get out of here." His voice was barely audible. She inched their laced hands back to his pounding chest. "I can't. I have to stay until the bride leaves." "Dammit," he said between clenched teeth. She giggled. "Fine, but let’s get off this dance floor before my legs give out." They almost made it to their seats when the DJ interrupted the last bit of the slow song and cranked up the house lights. "We need all of the unmarried women front and center. Come on ladies, don't be shy. It's time to catch the bride's bouquet. Who will be the next lucky lady to walk down the aisle?" "My favorite part of a wedding," Jillian said sarcastically. "Nothing like advertising the fact that you're still not married." Garrett turned Jillian around and kissed the top of her head. "Play nice." He watched as she danced to the center of the large ballroom and merged with the other girls. The bride stood beside the DJ and turned her back to the group. The DJ counted to three, and Erin tossed her bouquet. All of the women on the dance floor scurried away, leaving Jillian to catch the flowers effortlessly. A small group of guys immediately began chanting, "Kent, Kent, Kent." Kent stood with a group of friends, high-fiving one another, while Kent's date stormed out of the reception hall. Garrett ordered a double scotch and shrugged the scene off.

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"Come on guys, it's your turn. All single men need to make their way to the center of the dance floor and try to catch the garter." Kent, proud as a peacock, puffed his chest and with fisted hands, beat himself like a gorilla. What had Jillian seen in this guy, anyway? "Men, who's ready to put this garter on the leg of the lovely Maid of Honor?" The men hooted and hollered and chanted Kent's name again. Remain calm. There is nothing to be jealous of. Jillian doesn't even like Kent… Wait a minute, did she ever admit to not liking him? "Guys, there's only one rule. The man who catches the garter can't use his hands to place the garter on Jillian's leg. No hands, just teeth." Kent's cheering section got even louder. Well, that did it. Garrett hopped off the bar stool, forged his way through the sea of men and positioned himself beside Kent. "There's no way I'm letting you catch that thing," Kent muttered through gritted teeth. "Don't be so sure." The groom stood on the DJ's podium and turned around. "One, two, three," the DJ counted, and groom tossed the lacy, white elastic band into the crowd of men. Garrett made contact first. Kent ripped it out of Garrett's fingers. Garrett shoved Kent and grabbed the garter back. Kent hunched over like a line backer and plowed into Garrett with his shoulder. And then the fun began. In a blur of movement, both men rolled on the floor. Arms and legs flew about, shouts and screams whizzed by. Before Garrett even knew what hit him, he found himself on the bottom of a very large pile of men. How had he gotten into this position? Over a pretty woman, that’s how. Not just any woman, though. He doubted he'd ever think to pursue this level of macho dominance with just any girl. Could this be the L word? Yes, pure lust was driving him. Or maybe it was plain stupidity. Why else would a normally refined gentleman act this way?

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As the heap of men on his back lightened, he was happy to fill his lungs with oxygen once more. When the last man was pulled off, a gentle hand helped him up. "My hero." Jillian stood shaking her chestnut curls and laughing her sweet laugh. She was beautiful as ever and in that moment, he knew the bone-crushing experience had been worth it. "Kent has a piece of the garter, anyone else have a piece?" the DJ announced. Garrett looked into the palm of his hand and there it was, the majority of what was once a lacy garter. He held it high in the air, and pumped his arm like a man who'd just won a fight. "Boys, I'm not getting involved in this, you two can duke it out on your own." The DJ dimmed the house lights, lowered a glittery dance ball, and cranked up Y.M.C.A. Garrett slowly walked to a chair and sat. "Are you all right?" Jillian asked, mirth still dancing in her eyes. He didn't answer her. Instead, he pulled her down on his lap and kissed her with all the raw emotions he processed. He touched her soft face, her hair, and her sexy neck. She stood and took his hand. "I thought we needed to put on a steamy show for the guests?" "They've seen all they're going to see. The rest of the steamy show is for you to view alone."

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CHAPTER FIVE

Jillian stood with a solid grip on Garrett's black lapels, backed against an elevator door, on her tiptoes, and happily lip-locked. She was ready to have a magical night with a virtual stranger and not scared a bit. Well, maybe she was scared a little. The elevator dinged, and the gold doors parted. Garrett backed her into the tiny room, where she landed with a soft thud against the far glass wall. His hands flanked her head as his teeth grazed her lower lip. "Where are we going?" he murmured. “I got us a room on the fourth floor." What must he think of me? But it didn't matter. Tonight, she wasn't herself. She was an uninhibited sex queen. Who knew acting naughty could feel so good? The doors slowly began to close as she hurriedly loosened his black tie. "Jillian, wait," a voice froze her fingers. A hand stopped the barrier from fully shutting. The doors reopened, and two bridesmaids stood with several large brown bags. "We're going to decorate the get-away car for tomorrow. Can you decorate the honeymoon suite?" Sabrina reminded Jillian of her responsibilities. Jillian blinked her eyes and cleared her throat. "O-of course, we can." Garrett took the russet bags from the girl's outstretched hands and moved back into the elevator, where Jillian's adrenaline rush shifted into pure sexual frustration. "This is just a minor detour," Garrett tucked his tie into his jacket pocket. "A minor detour? This is a major road block with flashing yellow lights." She slouched against the cool metal bar. "It could be fun." "How?" "We could decorate naked."

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She bubbled out a laugh. "I don't think so." "We'll see." Garrett shot her a wicked grin.

Never had she seen such an exquisite room. An arrangement of flowers greeted them as they entered the foyer. Preparing and selling a display of that magnitude would certainly begin to pay some of her long list of bills at the shop. Her high heels echoed on the glossy, black marble as she slowly took in the suite. She ran her fingertips along the foliage wallpaper as her gazed stopped on the bed. A pristine white down comforter adorned the king size model that was accented by mosquito netting. The bed was tucked under the bay window overlooking the choppy ocean. The window stood slightly ajar, allowing the heavily salted air entrance into the room. She stepped around a sunken, red, heart-shaped whirlpool. Oh, what Garrett and I could do in there. A bottle of champagne rested in a polished silver pail beside the bed, and two fluted glasses hung from the stand. "This is exactly the kind of room I would want for my wedding night." Jillian twirled. "It's so beautiful, it takes my breath away." She padded to the full window and watched the white-capped waves collapse onto the shore. "I would sleep with the window open and listen to the waves." "I enjoy watching you experience new things. It's like I'm seeing it for the first time, too." Garrett came up from behind her, nibbled her neck, and in one fluid moment unzipped her dress. "Whoa." She spun around to face him, playfully poking his chest as she spoke. "There are rules here, mister. First, we decorate this room, then we can do all that." He gently guided the purple material off her shoulders, and her dress fell to the floor. "I don't like your rules. My rules are much simpler. We decorate while we do all that." The sound of his rough voice, mixed with his manly scent, merged with her own sexual desire, leaving her wanting. Why fight it? What did it matter if they had sex in the honeymoon suite or in their room? And when had he taken off her bra? She quickly covered her bare breasts. The only man that had seen her without a top on was Kent. And he hadn't seemed overly impressed. What if they weren't up to Garrett's standards either?

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Garrett cupped her face. "You are so beautiful." "T-turn the lights off." "Shhh." His warm fingers laced with hers and he lowered her hands. Garrett's gaze never left hers as he slowly kissed her shoulder. He moved down to her collarbone, nipping his way to her nipple. "Stop, please." Her voice was mix of stress and desire. Garrett straightened. "What's wrong?" She covered her breasts for a second time. He took her elbow, led her to the bed, and gently persuaded her to sit. "That asshole did a number on you, didn't he?" He sat beside her. "No. Kent just liked breasts to be big and voluptuous. Obviously, mine aren't. He offered to pay for implants, but I really wasn't into that. Most times I ended up just leaving my shirt on while we…" Garrett grabbed an accent pillow off the bed and shielded her chest. He gently took one of her hands and positioned her fingertips between his legs. His erection was so hard it felt like a sledgehammer. "Does this feel like your breasts are inadequate to me?" "Nope." "Well then. May I continue?" She closed her eyes, hesitantly tossed the pillow back into the jumble of decorative pillows, and reluctantly revealed her breasts to him. Amazingly, it felt refreshing to not hide behind her shirt anymore. "Thank you for trusting me," Garrett whispered. She fluttered open her lashes as his gaze fixed warmly, seductively on her. Slowly, he leaned forward, and drew her areola into his mouth. His gentleness drove her crazy. She tilted and gave him full access to the most sensitive part of her chest. The pressure of his warm tongue circling and flicking caused a moan to escape from her lips. With a feather light touch, he stroked the bundles of nerve endings that craved his immediate attention. "Oh Garrett." "Please tell me you have some of those condoms you bought today. I didn't exactly come prepared for this tonight." She had condoms but they were in her hotel room.

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"Wait a minute." She grabbed the bags the bridesmaids had given them and dumped the contents onto the bed. Edible underwear, fuzzy handcuffs, crotchless panties . . . oh yes, there were condoms in the bag, too. "I got one." "Jillian," Garrett chuckled. "We're going to need more than just one." Burning heat filled her cheeks. More than one. Tonight just kept getting better and better. Garrett pulled her down beside him and reached for the circular foil wrapper. "What have we got here? Pink. This condom is pink. My man does not wear pink!" "Really?" Jillian folded her legs beneath her as she sat, bit her bottom lip, and reached for his shirt buttons. "That's very sad to hear." She parted his stiff collar. "All we have is a box of pink condoms." She ran her fingernails through his sporadic black, curly chest hairs, then lowered her head and teased his hard nipple by blowing. "And it's such a shame that your man won't wear pink." "Maybe just for tonight he can make an exception." Garrett's breath was heavy, his voice laced with desire. She kicked off her shoes, her heels making a kerplunk as they landed on the hard floor, then she straddled him. "Well, I wouldn't want you to do anything that would make your man uncomfortable." Just when she thought she was calling all the shots, Garrett flipped her on her back and reminded her he was accustomed to making the moves. He withdrew from his shirt and tossed it on a nearby chair, revealing sculpted arms and a solid chest. A line of black hair started at his belly button and disappeared into his pants. Just thinking about where the trail ended left her mouth dry. "Touch me." His request was more like a command. She placed her hands on his shoulders and lightly raked her nails down his chest, his abs, then over his taut stomach. "Like this?" Her voice crackled. Garrett closed his eyelids. "Jillian, I want you so damn bad." Accepting his cue, she unhooked his belt, unzipped his pants, and slowly removed the tuxedo bottoms to his knees. "Boxers? I took you for a briefs kind of guy." "Disappointed?"

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"Hardly. Boxers are hot." "You're hot," he whispered and removed his own pants and underwear in one motion. "And you’re talented." Garrett threaded his fingers into her hair and inched toward her as every nerve ending pulsed with fire and desire for him. Determined to take things slow in an attempt to maximize her pleasure and his, she nibbled his neck, then brushed a kiss over his sexy-as-hell lips. "Jillian," he moaned. Her body screamed for him. "I'm ready." Garrett ripped open the pink condom with one hand and his teeth. He unrolled the latex over himself as she pulled her panties to just below her knees. He clenched his teeth and slowly entered her. She moved her body to take him in, all of him. Never had she felt so wanted while having sex. The way he cradled her as he picked up momentum. The way he whispered her name between thrusts… Slowly the ecstasy built and his noises sent jolts of lust to her thighs. He pulled her tight into his body, mumbled a few risqué words, and climaxed with raw passion. "I-I've never been that out of control before. I'm sorry I was so fast." Garrett confessed after several long moments of labored breaths. "Are you ready for your turn? Tell me what you like." She'd never been asked that question before. What did she like? There wasn't one special thing he could do for her. She was willing to try anything tonight. Already living wilder than she dreamed possible, her inhibitions had floated away. "My first request would be for us to move off this bed. It's kind of weird to think Erin and Michael will be using it in a few hours." No sooner had the words exited her mouth, Garrett scooped her into his arms, and began to exit the bedroom. "Where are we moving to the couch or the floor?" She wrapped her arm around his neck. "I was thinking the chaise lounge on the veranda." "Outside under the stars? That would be perfect." ****

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Jillian was simply unlike any other woman he'd ever met. The way she kissed, the way she laughed, and the way his heart beat when she was near. Not to mention the way her sexy body had made him come in a nanosecond. Could she really be as good as she seemed? She didn’t want his money. She wanted nothing but independence and she was awesome in bed. Damn! He’d hit the jackpot. He set Jillian down on the lounge chair. Jesus! Jillian's panties were still wrapped just below the knees. Had he really not taken them off? Smooth, very smooth, man. She must think you're a horny, haven't-had-any-in-forever kind of guy. "Let's get rid of these." His fingers brushed across the white bow on her underwear as the moonbeams danced over her face. He slid down to his knees on the terra cotta flooring, looped his fingers in the silky material, then stopped. This was a moment to savor. To hopefully draw out Jillian's pleasure, because it was high time to think about someone other than himself. Garrett lowered his head and began to nibble from her toes to her panties warming her skin with his tongue. She dug her nails into his back and instantly, he’d found what she enjoyed. He removed her panties and gently spread her legs. While kissing her inner thighs, he inched his way to the folds of her swollen, wet center. He kissed every spot until he slowly slid his tongue into her softness. Gradually he deepened the pressure. Her legs shook, extended and recoiled. She moaned and writhed his arms. "Oh, Garrett. Harder, faster," she whispered while he thrust deeper inside her core. Hopefully, Jillian was enjoying herself as much as he enjoyed pleasing her. He roamed to her tight, pink bud and in a clockwise motion, he used his tongue to manipulate her. Hopefully he could bring her to one hell of an orgasm. "Please, Garrett, I need to feel you inside of me again." "Not just yet." Was he tormenting her, or himself? He pulled her hips close to his lips, and used his fingers to plunge deep inside of her. He was eager to tease her sensitive nerve endings to the highest pinnacle.

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Jillian's orgasm erupted like a volcano with waves of thrashing spasms, followed by moans, ending with an exhausted sigh. With her fingers wrapped around his head, she clung to him throughout the release until the quivering ebbed away.

Watching her climax had just become his favorite past time.

Joining her on the chase lounge, he stretched out beside her, and drew a feather-like figure eight around her breasts. "Did you enjoy yourself?" "Mmmmmmm… yes, and maybe I'll be able to move again sometime next week." "We have work to do. I believe we need to turn this otherwise elegant suite into a cheap, erotic lair." **** "This place looks awesome." Jillian surveyed the room. "Tasteful, yet with a hint of sleaze." "Hanging fuzzy handcuffs from the bedpost is a little more than a hint of sleaze." Though he had to agree, they'd done their decorating duty well. "No, I think the rose petal heart on the bed counteracts the handcuffs. What concerns me in the sleaze department is the smorgasbord of porno movies." "What's sleazy about porn?" "Watching your husband watch other women… It doesn't get any yuckier than that." Visions of Vanessa Does New York filled his mind. "It could be highly erotic, too." Jillian whisked her purple shoes from the floor. "There have been too many men in my life with wandering eyes. So, for me to bring the temptation into the bedroom, and on my honeymoon, no less… Well, I'd have to be a complete fool." "Watching those movies doesn't mean you're giving a man a free pass to treat you with disrespect. It's simply a different way to share foreplay." "Call it whatever you want. But I think it's inviting deceit into the relationship. Like telling your partner to go ahead and cheat. I'm just not up for that anymore." She sighed. He disagreed. But with a subject of this significance, sometimes the smartest move was to keep his mouth shut. Jillian sat at the edge of the bed. "My father to this day cheats on my mother. She learned to turn a blind eye to it. But to me, cheating is something I just will not tolerate and therefore, I can never get married."

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She inched her feet into her high-heels and stood, then lost her balance as one of the heels snapped. Garrett quickly helped her back to the bed. "So, you assume every man cheats?" He removed the non-broken shoe from her foot and ripped off the heel. "I'm not assuming all men cheat. It's a fact. Every man cheats," she said. "I see." But he didn't see. How could she categorize every man as a cheater? And how could she judge his character after knowing him only a few hours? "I'm sure you've cheated a time or two." Jillian waved her hand in a gesture of accusation. "Is that really the vibe I give off?" He picked up the broken heel from the floor and sauntered to the wastebasket—where he tossed both into the trash. "Sorry, but it's a guilt by association type of thing. I've decided the whole male sex is unfaithful." Garrett knelt in front of her and guided her remodeled shoes onto her feet. "That's hardly fair to judge me because I'm a man." "Well then, Mr. Garrett Guinness, clear your name. Tell me you have never once, not even one time cheated on a girlfriend." "I can't." "Just what I thought." She turned up her chin. "In third grade, Becky Thompson kissed me under the slide, and I had already told Maggie Palzinski I would marry her." "That doesn't count." "Then no, I haven't ever cheated on a girlfriend. I'm sorry to break your concrete theory." Jillian sat in silence for moment, then her face turned hard. "You may not have cheated yet, but you will." Wanting to avoid commenting further, because yes, he might not have cheated, but lying to her was just as bad. "You know you're sexy as hell right now with those serious lines running across your forehead." "You're trying to change the sub-" He quickly darted over to sit beside her on the bed, captured her lips with his and deepened the kiss with his prying tongue.

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The steamy desire flared up once again, and the kiss lasted longer than even he contemplated it would. "I thought the hot show was for the reception room only?" Erin haphazardly tossed her bouquet on the bed beside them. Jillian pulled free of Garrett's hold and pink stained her cheeks. She held the look of a teenager who'd been caught necking with her beau. She jumped off the bed and straightened her dress. "We were just decorating." "I can tell. The place looks, well, like an adult novelty store." Erin ran her finger along the spines of nudity magazines. Jillian grabbed the two empty bags and began filling them with trash. "I know you and your husband want to be alone. So, we’ll just gather our stuff and get out of here." "My husband," Erin began, "is having a tequila-shooting contest with his groomsmen right now. He told me to go up to the room and wait for him here." Erin tried to hide the disappointment, but her watery eyes gave her away. "Morning sex is good, too," Jillian said, as if she could read Erin's thoughts. Erin wiped away a tear. "Enough about me. You two go and have an orgasm or two for me tonight, will you? After all, someone should have sex on my wedding night." Jillian padded across the room to her friend. "We can wait here until Michael comes up." "Good heavens, no. He'll wake me up soon enough when he stumbles in." Erin lowered her head and removed her veil. "What happened to your shoes?" "The cobbler fixed them for me." Jillian pointed at Garrett with an infectious grin that left him warm. "And I have to admit, I like them much better this way." He was beginning to see how Jillian had such ill feeling toward men. Sorrow slowly draped over him. The men in her life were repeatedly letting her down. Even Michael, who let her down through her best friend. How could the men in her life misuse her trust in such a fashion? Gazing into those soft green eyes and deceiving her with another woman seemed impossible. Yet here he was, lying to her about his name and job status, too. He'd become no better than the rest. His white lies could, and would, be cleared simply. The sooner he confessed the better for both of them. Jillian hugged her friend goodbye.

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"Michael is such a loser," Jillian began as the honeymoon suite's door shut behind her. "Why would he want to party with his friends when his beautiful brand new wife is up here alone waiting for him? You’re a guy. Please tell me." “He might have—” "I just knew he'd disappoint her tonight. He's had too much to drink. He'll need assistance from his drunk friends to get up to his room, where he'll make obnoxious remarks, throw up, and finally pass out." “Well, I—” "Erin will come crying to me in the morning, and I'll have to comfort her. This should be the best night of her life, and he'll completely ruin it." He waited a beat to make sure she'd stopped her tirade. "You're putting a lot of importance on one night." "I know, but I'm traditional that way. You only get one wedding night, and it's special for a woman. It should be special for a man, too." "Would it make you feel better if I went down to the bar and brought him back up here?" "You would do that for Erin?" "I'm doing it for you." Jillian lowered her lashes. "I don't know what to say." "How about say," he pulled her into his chest, "after you come back, Garrett, you'll find me in bed, between the sheets, with nothing on and a pink condom in my hand." She tilted her head and her smile turned dangerous. "In our room, I have other colors, like lavender, yellow, and neon orange." "Stick with the pink." He winked.

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CHAPTER SIX

Jillian hadn't planned on spending the night with Garrett, but she'd lost all cognitive thought between orgasms four and five. Her first fling and it had turned out to be phenomenal. Even better than she thought a one-night stand could be. Unfortunately, the time had come to go back to reality and abandon her wild side. Or at least tuck it away for another, more permanent, relationship. The memories of last night with all its sex, heat, and passion sent burning warmth to her cheeks. No one could accuse her of not accomplishing what she'd set out to achieve. No sir. She wanted to experiment and experiment, she had. Sex with Garrett had been great. Actually, it had been beyond great, bordering on stratospheric. Yep, last night had been well worth the embarrassment she would inevitably face waltzing through the hotel lobby this morning, still wearing the previous night's risqué dress. As the dusty pink hues of sunshine beamed in through the slats on the blinds, warning her morning swiftly approached, she sadly admitted last night truly had come to a close. Her stagecoach had turned back into a pumpkin, her dress had turned back into rags, and her time with her fantasy hunk had expired. The only problem she still faced was mild in reality, but as difficult as finding a lost glass slipper. She needed to slide out from beneath Garrett's muscular arm, find her dress, and flee from the room. All without waking him, preferably. Maybe if she managed to slip down from underneath his arm, she could… Nope, he wasn't budging. Maybe she could twist her body free. Twisting her body… the previous evening's images flooded her mind. Before last night, she had no clue her legs were so flexible and limber. Nor had she known a man could be so pliant and elastic, also. Between the two of them, they could form a human pretzel if necessary. A soft giggle escaped her. How had they gotten into that position while on the bathroom sink?

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"What's so funny?" Garrett's voice held a groggy huskiness. Drat! So much for a quiet escape. "Sorry to wake you. I'm going to go home now, but you've got the room till noon. Sleep in and order room service. Breakfast is on me." Jillian attempted to lift Garrett's arm off her chest, but he held her tight. And instead of releasing her, he turned onto his side and drew her into a deep spooning position. "Where do you think you're going?" Garrett nestled his face into her hair. "I thought you just said I could have breakfast on you. I was getting a visual of where my eggs might stay the warmest." A tingle of excitement raced through her as he kissed the rim of her ear. Wrapped snugly in his embrace felt so right, yet this needed to end before she decided to flip over and happily explore the recesses of his mouth. Again. "On Sundays, I get the chores done around my apartment before going to the shop." She again attempted to wiggle from his arms. "You play florist on Sundays, too?" "Yep." "And if I had been asleep, were you planning on waking me before you moseyed on out of here?" Nope. "Of course." "I'm not so sure I believe you." Garrett began twirling a curl of her hair around his finger. Such a small meaningless gesture, yet it felt so pleasant and… lovely. She needed to get off this bed, now! "You don't believe me because you have the tendency not to trust others." "No, that's not true. I'm very trusting of others." He kissed the back of her head. "I especially trust you." Just great. Look, this was a one time, no regrets, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. This is what men yearn for. He should be dancing the morning-man-jig. Hadn't he ever heard of getting the milk for free? "Look, I'm sorry, I just have to go. Last night was great. No, it was better than great. It was wonderful. No, you… you were wonderful and terrific. Under different circumstances, maybe we could have even-"

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"Are you letting me down easy?" Garrett chuckled. "Jillian, I feel so used and so abused. Did last night on the balcony, the sofa, and in the bathtub mean nothing to you?" A spark of sarcasm which could not be ignored danced in his voice. So she reached behind her, snagged a pillow and pelted him with it. Garrett flipped her on her back, his lips mere inches from hers, while his eyes glittered with mischief. "Do you want to have a pillow fight? I have always had a secret fantasy of being in the middle of a good pillow fight." "I'm sorry, but there isn't a horde of crazy women dressed in teddies hiding in the closet to have a pillow fight so you can live your fantasy." "Who said anything about other women? I have you and a pillow. My fantasy is complete." Garrett's grin stretched from ear to ear. That had been a sweet answer. One that might have even tempted her to make his desire come true. Unfortunately, she just couldn't. She wiggled out from underneath him. "I had an amazing time last night, too," Garrett said. Jillian darted off the bed as his hands clapped together, narrowly missing her. "How do you know I had fun last night?" "You're quick." He sat up on his elbow. "I can tell you had fun by the way you smile.” "I'm not smiling. And do you think," she peered over her shoulder covering her bottom with her hands, "you could look the other way while I find my clothes." "Why?" "Because I'm naked." "No. Why are you telling me you're not smiling when you clearly are, and why would you have inhibitions about nakedness around me?" Last night, she had an out of body experience, but today she'd morphed back to straightlaced, boring florist. Furthermore, she wasn't smiling. She reached up to touch her mouth. Darn. He was right. "Look, turn around or something because I want to get dressed, here." "Fine." He laid back and covered his eyes. "You have ten seconds, then after that whatever is not covered is mine to admire." Jillian planted a hand on her hip. "Look, I'm going to need more time than that." "Ten…" His voice rang with command. "Nine…" She blew out the air hanging in her lungs. "Garrett."

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"Eight…" His voice rose an octave. He wasn't going to stop his silly little game, so she had two choices. Stand there and argue with a man who clearly had a stubborn side or find her clothes. She chose the latter. Jillian scurried around the bed in a mad dash. She checked in the closest. Nope, nothing. She ran across the room toward the curtains. Jackpot! "Seven… six…" She plucked her panties from the lampshade. Now where was her bra? Oh good, her left shoe. "Five… four…" Her right shoe was peeking out from under the bed. She bent down, put it on, then tossed up the dust ruffle in a continuing search for her bra. "Three… two…" Screw the bra. Where the hell was her dress? It certainly would cover more of her. Yes! Her dress. She frantically pulled on clothes. "One… time is up." Garrett opened his eyelids. Her panties were stuck between her knees because both of her legs were in one hole. Her purple dress was around her neck, inside out and upside down, covering nothing. She held one broken shoe in her hand, and the other shoe miraculously had stayed on her foot. "Nice," he said smugly, then laced his hands behind his head. "You didn't give me enough time, and I couldn't find my bra." "You mean you couldn't find this?" Dangling from Garrett’s wrist was said black bra. "What the heck?" She seethed with mounting rage. "Why were you hiding it from me?" "Sweetheart, I wasn't hiding anything." Oh God, how could she have forgotten the makeshift handcuffs? It had been her idea, no less. "Sorry, I'd forgotten about the prisoner performance." A flash of humor crossed his rugged face, which set her mouth quirking with a smile, also. There was something so warm and enchanting in his grin. She removed her clothes and started over.

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"Why are you in such a rush to leave?" He stood and pulled up his blue boxers. She once again pulled her dress over her head. "I'm very busy today." The cool material encased her as it fell into place. "Okay. I had thought we could spend the day together on my… friend's boat. But we can do it another time." She stopped. He wanted to spend the day together? This was a one-night stand. "Let me get this straight. You want to hang out with me today?" "Well, of course." What? Why? Wait a minute. Okay. The one night fling had morphed into a weekend affair. Interesting. Who knew how long it would be before she'd have sex again? Good sex, that is. Well, amazing sex, really, and with something that didn't require three AA batteries. "What’s going on in that pretty head of yours??" Garrett pulled on a white t-shirt, eliminating her view of his sculpted abs. I'm thinking how fine you look without a shirt on and how those boxers show off your tan, muscular legs. "I'm thinking a boat ride sounds like fun." You hot, sexy man, you. "Okay, cool. Let me give my friend a shout." Garrett picked up his cell phone and strode out to the veranda. "I need to get someone to open the shop for me." She announced to herself after he'd closed the door. No sooner had the words been spoken when a light rasp at the hall door commanded her attention. She giddily pondered the thoughts of a second night of wild sex as she skipped to, then opened, the door. "Hey." Erin sniffled. Erin? "What in the world are you doing here?" Jillian stepped back to allow her friend entrance to the room. "Jill," Erin whispered, "I should have listened to you." Michael, that no good, piece of— "I'm going to take pleasure in ripping his hair out one strand at a time, aren't I? What'd he do?"

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Tears filled Erin's eyes and trembled on her eyelids. "Last night after Garrett carried my husband to bed, Michael decided he was still in the mood." Garrett had told Jillian he'd returned Michael to his wife, yet failed to mention what state Michael had been in when he'd been delivered. Erin wiped away a tear with the heel of her hand. Jillian quickly reached to the nightstand and snagged a box of tissues. She kept a few for herself then handed the box to Erin. Erin took the tissues and burst into sobs. "I wanted to have a wedding night to remember. So I removed his clothes for him, but there… there on his penis." Erin cried even harder. "There on his penis was the largest hicky I've ever seen." "No!" Jillian covered her mouth. Erin cried harder. "The man even had the nerve to tell me he didn't remember receiving the mark. You know, I just can't believe you'd forget something like that." "Erin, I don't know what to say. I'm so very sorry." Jillian closed the distance between them and hugged Erin, her heart clenching. Jillian had felt the sting of betrayal before. She cried those very same painful tears. She'd experienced the bitter taste left from loving someone too much and having them step on her heart.

Garrett breezed in from the balcony. "We're all set." "Hey Garrett." Erin kissed Jillian’s cheek, then released her. Jillian followed as Erin ambled for the door. "Please don't go. Let me help you." "I think I need to be alone for a while. I'm going on the honeymoon by myself. I just need to get away and reevaluate what to do next in my life." Erin said, wiping away plump tears from her cheeks. "I understand, but if there's anything at all I can do, don't hesitate." Jillian held her hand to the base of her throat and watched as Erin walked away. "What happened?" Garrett folded his arms. "Typical men-can't-be-trusted kind of stuff!" Jillian slammed the door. "Only now, instead of damaging an engagement like in my case, a marriage has just been ruined. How come men can't keep their parts tucked inside their pants?!" "Whoa. I stepped outside for only a minute. What did I miss?"

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"You just missed watching a sweet, loving, good spirited woman have her heart torn in two!" "Okay. I hear you. You don't need to scream at me. I had nothing to do with hurting her." Jillian fists opened and closed as she paced the room. She blew out her breath in a long slow stream. "Why do men enjoy breaking us? Is it fun? Is that how you get your kicks?" "I don't know why Michael would hurt Erin, but you can't categorize all men with him." Jillian threw her arms in the air. “Oh really?” "I told you last night, there are men who don't mess around." Garrett tipped her head up and forced her to look at him. "I would love to believe you, but I don't." "Michael, Kent and your father are the odd ones. Most men who are in love cherish their woman and enjoy showering them with respect. My parents have been happily married for thirtythree years. And my dad has never gone behind my mother's back." Pensive tears shimmered in the shadows of her eyes. "It's not fair to lump all men into one category, is it? There are some good ones still out there," she half said, half questioned. "I think there might be a few." She sat on the end of the bed. "Like you?" He sat beside her. "You'll have to decide that for yourself, but I'd take a chance on me." Jillian laughed. "Of course you would." Who was Garrett kidding? He'd become the worst kind of guy. He'd just spoken to his brother Wyatt out on the veranda, and asked him to remove anything from his yacht that might leave a question as to the true owner of the vessel. How could he even begin to think he was one of the good ones? She wasn't like the usual women he'd dated. She wasn't looking to marry someone to support her financially. Jillian seemed honest and sincere. She didn't want to be a contestant on the game show Who Can Marry the Richest Man. She hadn't even commented on his lack of a stable job. He simply couldn't lose her now. Not now after he'd found someone who didn’t care about his bank account. "Maybe a trip to your friend's boat is exactly what I need today." Jillian's exhaled slowly. "I wasn't sure you'd still be up for it considering all that has happened."

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"There's nothing left for me to do." Jillian shook her head bouncing sexy curls over her shoulders. "Erin will be in Jamaica in a few hours and she wants to be alone. Knowing Erin, she hasn't filled Michael in on her plans. I'm not going to be the one to tell him where his wife went. So I'm thinking the only place I can’t be found today will be on the water." "That's a good enough reason for me. We'll grab a taxi, swing by your place to pick up your swimsuit, and then set sail." "Aye, aye, Captain." **** Jillian laid her head back on the hot tub's rim. Above, the sky was a tranquil, calming shade of blue reminiscent of a springtime forget-me-nots. The ocean reflected golden sunrays as a delicate breeze scattered her hair across her face. A dolphin's fin cut the glassy water and a mullet pranced across the surface, reminding her of days when she and her brother skipped flat stones in the very same Sequoia River. Sunshine gradually warmed her arms and shoulders, baking in the first bronze tan of the season as she turned to watch the man beside her. He was relaxing with his head settled back on the spa’s edge, his eyes closed in the picture of complete peace. Lazy days were few and far between, but if she'd special- ordered one, today would fit the bill perfectly. Jillian had followed Garrett to the private deck, where a circular whirlpool hummed while bubbles popped in the swirling, inviting water. She'd tossed her sarong on a nearby lounge chair, and stepped into the steamy pool, where he'd joined her. Perfect. Relaxing. Uncomplicated. She took a leisurely sip of her margarita, set her salt-rimmed glass on the deck behind her, and unintentionally brushed his arm in the process. His eyelids opened as his gaze met hers. "I could get used to this." She inhaled the salty sea mist. "I know I could get used to this." He curved his hand around her neck, pulled her toward his lips, and kissed her until her head was spinning. The kiss turned steamy, then escalated another notch. Warm, intoxicating heat invaded her body as Garrett's skilled tongue continued to court hers. Hot flashes, fireworks, and butterflies zinged from the tip of her head down to her fire

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engine red toenails. Longing surged through her as her thoughts cluttered and her heart skipped a beat. Garrett pulled her onto his lap, propelling the kiss up yet another level. She straddled him, and he moaned her name. She raised her mouth from his and stared deep into his sparkling blue eyes. "I'm glad you talked me into today." "I'm glad I talked you into today, too." Garrett caressed the backs of her thighs under the confines of the warm water. She cupped his face. "You're dangerously handsome." He slid his hands under her bottom. "You, my lady, are sexy as hell but completely overdressed." "The feeling is mutual." Jillian dropped her hands into the frothing water, and looped her fingers in his waist band. She hesitated then backed off his lap. She sunk into the warm water, then wiggled him free of his black trucks. Gently, Jillian guided his arousal to her lips, caressed the tip with her tongue, then slid him deep into the recess of her mouth. Back and forth, her mouth glided across his slick skin. His muffled moans were heard through the water barrier, which was great. She'd hoped to please him half as much as he had pleased her this weekend. Jillian planned to continue torturing him, but his hands suddenly pulled her to the surface. "You've been under there a long time. You know that's not a snorkel?" She smirked. "Really?" "I'm positive." He gathered her in his arms, then nibbled a trail to her bathing suit strap. Removing one of the straps from her shoulder with his teeth, he looped his finger through the remaining strap and pulled. Garrett retrieved her margarita and with his finger traced the rim of the glass. Extracting salt, he spread the translucent essence on her areolas. The tiny rocks aided in tightening her buds to hard, firm peaks. Using his pinky, he withdrew a dollop of frozen margarita and painted the cold concoction onto her breasts. "Now, that's my idea of a perfect margarita," he murmured, and took one nipple deep into his mouth.

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She laughed. Laughing and sex mixed well. He truly knew how to unleash the wild side in her. Abruptly, he stopped and shielded her body with his. "Dammit. We've got a visitor."

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CHAPTER SEVEN

"Your emergency phone is ringing, sir." A too familiar voice broke the silence. Jillian hastily hopped from his lap and disappeared under the water. "Thank you." Garrett accepted the phone from his butler. "Is there anything you or the lady needs, sir?" Pierre averted his gaze from the hot tub. "No, we're okay for now." "Very good, sir" Pierre bowed, rose, and marched away ramrod straight. Garrett pulled her from the water, brushed her bangs from her eyes, and smiled. "He's gone." Jillian covered her breasts, scanned the deck, and covered her mouth. "Who was that, and where did he come from? I thought we were alone on this boat!" "We're as alone as a well trained staff of eight will allow us to be." "Are you telling me there are seven other stiffs out here with us?" She wiggled free of his hold, grabbed her bathing suit and feverishly put it on. "No, Pierre is the only stiff. The rest are very friendly." "I haven't seen anyone. Where have they been hiding? Do you think they saw what we just did? Do you think they saw me naked?" "Shhh." He covered her lips with his finger. So many women would have used the opportunity to parade their breasts. "No one saw anything. We're on the upper deck, Pierre is blind as a bat, and we would have spotted them long before they had a chance to see us." "Oh, Garrett. This is not good. I really thought we were alone out here." "Jillian." He lightly stroked the hair from her shoulder. "Who did you think was driving us?" She cocked her eyebrow. "I assumed the boat was on autopilot." He bit his lip to contain his amusement, but when she began to snicker, he lost control, too. Through hearty laughter, he wrapped her in an embrace and kissed the top of her head. "You make me laugh like no one else can."

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How had this smart, sensitive, non-materialistic, funny woman gotten to him so quickly? "I think your emergency phone is ringing again." Jillian pointed to the chair where Garrett had set his cell. "It's bad news, so I'm not answering it." "What makes you think it's bad?" "The autopilot has turned us around, and we're headed back to shore." "Funny guy." She playfully jabbed him. "But aren't you curious as to what's the matter? Maybe someone you love is sick, or there's been a terrible accident." You're here and safe with me. Nothing else seems important.

"This better be damn good!" Garrett stood at the window in his office overlooking the Sequoia River. The river he’d just been on with Jillian. God, he missed her already. "I just thought maybe the President of the southeastern McGuinness hotels should be here the day before we open to the public." His brother had a valid point, though one Garrett didn’t want to hear. He'd been shucking his responsibilities all day just to spend more time with Jillian. "Wyatt." He turned. "Have you ever just not cared about anything?" Wyatt waltzed to the camouflaged refrigerator. "No. And don't you go falling for this woman. She thinks you're jobless, penniless, and are comfortable using your friend's toys. She is the type of woman who'd love you for simply being you. End it with her as soon as possible. I'm begging you." Wyatt swung open the refrigerator door and crouched behind it. "You know, Garrett, it wouldn't hurt to get something in here that will put a little hair on a man's chest." Garrett paused. "You're right." "I know I'm right, now where are you hiding the good stuff?" Garrett strolled to the wet bar and opened a set of cabinet doors. Arranged by size, then color, stood enough liquor bottles to throw a sizable party. "I meant you were right about Jillian. She's wonderful." "Yeah, she sounds great. Please tell me you didn't arrange these bottles."

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Garrett shot his brother an are-you-kidding-me look. "Something happened after we left the boat. Jillian thanked me profusely for the weekend and said goodbye in a tone that led me to believe I would never see her again." "So, you've gone and done it." Wyatt poured an amber liquid into a glass. "What?" "Fallen in love." Garrett rolled his eyes. "Don't you have a little redheaded model bobbing around the hotel that needs your undivided attention?" "She had a runway show in Rome, but I'm over her. The girl is gorgeous," Wyatt took a large swallow of his scotch. "But I need more upstairs." "Does she know it's over?" Wyatt shrugged his shoulders, indifferent. His brother needed a woman who'd twist his stomach into knots and leave a smile on his face. Someone like Jillian. "Call her and invite her to dinner." Wyatt stirred his drink by rotating his hand. "No. I'm going to wait and give her a little space." "Good idea. Tomorrow every journalist in the South will be here to plaster your picture across the front page of the newspaper. When she sees you lied to her, she'll be happy to give you all the space you need." Wyatt drained his drink. Garrett paced the room. "Obviously, I can't be here tomorrow. You know that, right?" "Right." Wyatt crunched an ice cube, as the connection clicked in his eyes. "Oh, no. I am not covering for you." "You are, I appreciate it, and I owe you big." "No way Garrett, I have a hotel to get up and running. I don't have time to cover for you." "I thought I was your favorite brother?" "You are." "Then act like it." "Garrett, this will cost you." "Name it," Garrett said, bluntly. "Season tickets, skybox." "Done."

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"I hope you know what you're doing." His brother's heavy, scotch-tinted words lingered long after Wyatt strolled away. **** "Two hundred dollars for wilted roses?" Jillian stood, one hand flailing in the air, the other with a death grip on the phone receiver. "They're not even pink. I ordered pink!" The man on the other end of the phone babbled about freshness, quality, and how she'd ordered peach roses. "Look, I don't have time for this. I have an order to fill. Figure out how to fix my problem, or I'll find a new supplier." Right. Like she could afford to order from another distributor. "And I need my pink roses here by noon!" She slammed down the phone. She hadn't experienced such shoddy customer relations when she'd ordered from reputable distributors. Unfortunately, she could no longer afford their prices. Her anger got the best of her and she kicked a bucket. Dirty water sprayed the floor. "That's it, I'm going home. I'm going to crawl back in bed, and I'm never having another one-night stand!" The real seed of her anger finally emerged. Honestly, she thought she could handle the no regrets, but today her heart held sorrow. Couldn't she be normal and handle a one-night fling like a man? Rest assured, good-looking, erotic-smelling, hot-bodied Garrett Guinness wasn't sitting around, twiddling his thumbs, thinking about her. Oh no, he was off finding his next conquest. So what if she'd experienced the best sex in her life with him? It didn't matter that she'd had the most engaging conversation, in like forever, and who cared if he made her laugh—out loud—repeatedly. Get over him and move on! Jillian blew out a breath, grabbed some rags, then dropped to her knees to soak up the spill. It's not like he'd done anything special. She always had stratospheric orgasms. Ha! She couldn't even think that with a straight face. Sure the physical part was awesome. But there was more. So much more. She felt safe and wanted, and her problems didn't seem to be mountainous when she was with him.

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She scanned her shop. Twinkle lights and wisteria had been stapled to anything that didn't move. Soft lighting and fragrant flowers lent to the illusion of pure serenity. The shop still reminded her of a peaceful, enchanted forest. She'd had such hopes, such dreams for her business. Now, those hopes would sink her. Take her down to the depths of the Titanic. Her only saving grace was Kent and his help, but not even he knew of her struggle just to keep the place afloat. Praise the person who'd invented plastic, though. She'd cha-chinged every pretty item in her store. The marble fountain, the wrought iron settee, the flowers. Heck, she'd even charged the green tissue paper she used to encase the fresh flowers. She was up to her eyeballs in debt, and a heap of bills still went unpaid each month. Someday, she would move past robbing Peter to pay Paul. But that day was not today. The door jingled as a patron stepped in. "I'll be right there," Jillian called and continued cleaning the grimy water. For a fleeting moment, she wished it were Garrett coming to whisk her away to enjoy a life on his friend's yacht. Where they could island hop through the Caribbean, share stress-free days, and orgasm-filled nights. He'd really seemed sincere yesterday when he'd invited her to spend the night. So genuine, she almost gave in. But it was better this way. The sting of never seeing him again would only hurt more after another perfect night in his arms. "Good morning." Kent. "What are you doing here?" "Do I need a reason to come to my florist shop?" "No, it's just I don't think you've stepped in here since we broke up." "Speaking of which, I want you back." "Oh, Kent." She rolled her eyes and actually snorted, then quickly gained composure after noticing his face held not a twinge of humor. Kent bent to a knee and took her hand. "Seeing you this past weekend made me realize what I've lost. I don't want to live without you anymore. I want to share my life with you. I'm a new man, and I love you. I took off two weeks from work, and have plane tickets for Vegas. Let's get married." "Kent-"

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"Let me finish." He held up his hand to halt her reply. "This past weekend made me realize why I've been so unhappy with my life, and it's because I'm not sharing it with you." Jillian shook her head. "We can't get married-" Kent placed his finger over his lips. "Shh. Don't make any decisions until we get back from lunch. I'm buying." "I've already made my decision about marrying you. And I can't go to lunch with you today. I need to get caught up after not working the weekend." "You spent the whole weekend with him?" Was Kent really this jealous of Garrett? "I did." "I can get past this." His voice rang out raggedly in impotent anger. "But it can't happen again." "You can't tell me what to do anymore. I'll see whoever I want, without your permission. But you might as well know, it will come out anyway. The fling between Garrett and me, well, it's over." "Good." Yeah, just freaking great. A knock on the back door gave her just the excuse she needed to flee from the intense moment. She quickly jogged to let the person in. It was too early for mail, so it had to be a delivery. Good. Maybe someone had come to straighten out the flower situation. Focusing on what to say, she unlocked the door, yanked it open, and bam. Garrett Guinness stood before her. Seconds ticked by like a slow, lazy dream. A fierce internal ringing dulled her mind. Her stomach dropped, her knees weakened, and she wanted to cry, all at once. She thought she'd never see those big dimples or those cornflower blue eyes again. She caught her breath, then swallowed hard. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. In the few hours since she'd last made eye contact with him, he'd actually grown sexier. Could that be possible? This was not the normal reaction you give to a bang-him, leave-him kind of guy. If she ever wanted to experiment with another one-night fling, she really needed to work on the no attachment thing.

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Jillian took a step back and smacked into Kent. Where had he come from? Garrett reached out to steady her and in an awkward moment, she'd inadvertently been sandwich between her past and God-I-wish-he-could-be-my-future. "What are you doing here?" "I wanted to bring you these." Garrett handed her two-dozen Dutch Vendela roses. "I'm sorry I had to buy these from your competition, but when the girl you want to give flowers to is a florist, it's hard to buy them without ruining the surprise." Speechless, she froze. Why was Garrett here? Why had he brought her gorgeous, expensive flowers? And why did she want to jump into his arms, wrap her legs around his waist, and kiss his lips off? Get a big grip on yourself, Jillian. Men didn't bring flowers to one-night-stand girls. Unless they wanted something–like more sex. Jillian cleared her throat. "Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful, but you shouldn't have. I know how through-the-roof expensive-" "I missed you last night." Garrett derailed her train of thought, then leaned toward her with his cute, little grin and adorable, irresistible dimples. Don't let the sex magnet pull you close for a kiss. "Garrett." Kent saved the day. Garrett stopped his forward movement, but his gaze never left her eyes. "Kent." "Jilly and I were just discussing flying to Vegas to get married," Kent gloated. "How have you been?" Garrett asked her, blatantly ignoring Kent. She broke the trance, turned, and waved Garrett into her shop. "I'm doing fine. What brings you here?" Garrett entered, stopping mere centimeters in front of her, her pulse soared in response to his close proximity. "I'm here because I can't get you or the weekend out of my mind." "He needs to be gone by the time I get back," Kent barked. "I'll go to your apartment, pack some clothes, and get your wedding dress dry-cleaned, Jilly." Jillian and Garrett ignored Kent's exit. "I didn't expect to see you today." Or ever again.

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"I'm taking a hooky day and thought I'd come over, give you flowers and this." His last words were smothered on her lips. She jerked away from his lips. "You're playing hooky from what? You don't have a job." Silence reigned and even she felt the sting of her words. Where did that come from? And why would she say something that mean? "You're right." He gained his composure and placed his hands in his pant pockets. "I don't have a job. I'm taking the day off from looking for one, though." She'd hurt him. She'd injured his pride. She dry-washed her face with her hands. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so rude. I guess I assumed after the weekend it would be over between us. I'm just frazzled you're here. And Kent’s wanting me to fly to Vegas and find the first available wedding chapel." "Why would it be over between us? That doesn't sound like much fun. And do you want to marry Kent?" "No. I am not marrying him." "Great, let's close up shop. I have something really fun planned for us." He winked. Jillian frowned. Garrett had come back for only one thing, more wham-bam. "Look, I shouldn't have taken the weekend off, but I did. Now, I'm paying the price. I'm behind in paperwork, cleaning, arranging—" "No problem. Let me help you." She cleared her throat. "There is nothing you can do here." Garrett's stepped closer and his peppermint breath fanned her face. "I can think of a few things I can do here." Jillian took a giant step away from him. "I know you're busy job hunting today." Garrett closed the distance between them again. "Okay, so today, I'll work here. It'll be like a career exploring day. I've always wanted to work in a florist shop." He just wasn't getting it, was he? She needed to be more direct and truthful. "The weekend was sort of a crazy fun fantasy for me. I am back to reality now. So unless you are willing to work today for free, I don't think we have anything else to discuss. I'm sorry." Garrett rocked back on his heels. "I'll be happy to work here for free as long as you escort me to Dijon's for dinner tonight." Jillian closed her eyes. "Are you serious?"

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"I never joke about food." "You're going to go broke fast with your kind of life style—Dutch Vendela roses and dinner at Dijon's." He smiled. "So does that mean you’re my boss for the day?" What did she have to lose? She wasn't out any money and a good dinner in her belly wouldn't be so bad. "Fine. But after dinner, I'm going home. Alone." "As you wish."

Jillian shook limp peach roses in the flower distributor’s face. "I told you already, the roses I ordered were pink. At this point, I wouldn't care if you'd brought me fuchsia, dusty rose, or pale as long as they are pink." "Sorry, but the order says peach," the seedy man fired back. It was all Garrett could do not to intervene. Jillian took in a deep breath. "I placed the order over the phone. I don't know how your office could have messed my order up, but obviously someone did. Regardless, these flowers look like they've been sitting out for a week. They're not even fresh." "Well, I'm not sure what more I can do for you." "FIX THE PROBLEM!" "Let me see what I can arrange." With his wrist, the man flipped open his cell phone, voiced dialed, and strode to a corner of the room. Jillian face had flushed with anger. Listening to the guy would have sent Garrett over the edge, too. He wanted to intrude. He wanted to tell smug-face where he could stick his wilted, peach roses. But he held back out of respect for her. If she asked for his help he'd give it, but he didn’t want to push his assistance on her. Jillian turned to Garrett. "Can you believe this guy? "I can't believe you haven't kicked him out on his ass yet." "Nothing would give me greater pleasure." "Then what are you waiting for?" Jillian began to pace, flexing her fingers. "The truth is, he's the cheapest distributor around."

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"Cheap or not, you don't have time for this kind of screw up. You need what you've ordered sent to your shop in a timely fashion. No exceptions. No problems. This is not worth saving money for." Jillian stopped pacing and stared deep into his eyes. "What should I do then?" "Give him back his flowers and tell him when he gets the order correct and up to your standards, then and only then can he make his delivery." "What if I make him mad and he refuses?" "I don't think that will happen. He needs you just as much as you need him. Call his bluff and send him packing, but leave room for improvement. If he's hungry enough for a sale, he’ll be back. If not, you'll have to find a new distributor, but your time and frustration should be worth something to you." She bit her bottom lip. "I don't know." "Do what you feel comfortable with. My way is merely a suggestion." The distributor snapped his phone closed as he drew near. "Here's my deal. I can get fresh, pink roses to you by tomorrow but I'll have to charge you for the peach flowers. There's nothing I can do with them now, they're wilted. This is the best I can do seeing how the fault was not on our end." Jillian stopped for a beat, then turned to Garrett. "I think I'm in the market for a new distributor." Then she whirled toward the shark. "Here's my deal. Take your flowers yourself and leave! And the best I can do is not call every florist in this state and tell them what a scum you are, but if you ever show up here again, I will!" Garrett thought she'd turned him on before with her sweet talk and gentle actions, but watching her stick up for herself, send a man running, and all in a no nonsense tone, gave him a rock hard boner the size of Texas. They watched as the distributor's van melted in with the Magnolia Spring's lunch-hour traffic. "I'm impressed. I'm proud. And you really need to know, I'm very, very turned on. Seriously though, way to take charge." A tear rolled down her check. "That felt so good and liberating. He'd been driving me nuts for months now. I have no idea what I'm going to do, but for the moment, I'm going to relish the fact that I won't have to deal with him or his company again."

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Garrett thumbed away her tear and pulled her into his arms. "We'll get through this. We'll find a new supplier." "We'll get through this?" She looked up at him with round emerald eyes. "Me and you, sweetheart. We'll take on the whole lot of distributors one at a time, until we find one that will bring you perfect, reasonably priced flowers." She pulled free from his embrace. "I don't know what to say." "There's nothing to say. Except tell me what you would like for lunch. I'm getting a little hungry." "Garrett, stop. There is no ‘us.’ What we had this weekend was very special. I had the time of my life. But that was then. I don't have time in my life for an ‘us.’ I work a lot. And when I'm not here working, I'm thinking about work. This is not my time for a relationship. This is my time to build a business and career that will turn a profit. I'm sorry if you thought there was more to the weekend than that." What? Was he hearing her right? She was dumping him. Hell, they hadn't even started dating. Talk about not even giving a guy a chance. Here he'd found a woman who rocked his world and exploded his nights. He couldn't lose her just yet. Yesterday on the Do Not Disturb they'd been so happy. She had been happy yesterday, hadn’t she? Hell, he'd been so freaking over-sexed and in orgasm heaven he'd forgotten the most important part—check to make sure the girl felt the same way. Jillian placed her hand on his forearm. "I'm sorry. I know your life is rocky right now, but I don't have the energy to run this place and be a good sex slave." A good sex slave? He wanted a girlfriend. And his love life couldn't be more un-rocky. As a matter of fact, his life was pure boring. Flat-line. One foot in the grave. He could party any night, anywhere. He could summon up an airplane full of supermodels. He could dine with the president, but all of that was so mundane compared to finding a real woman and loving her. "Are you upset because I don't have a job?" She shook her head. "No. It has nothing to do with that." Good. Then he still held a chance. But he needed time. Time to show her how much he cared. Time to take her to Paris for dinner, New York City for a show, and shopping in Milan. He needed time to win her affections. "You know I could always work here for you."

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"I told you I can't afford to pay you what you deserve." I don't want your money, I just want you. "I'll work for nothing more than homemade dinners." "You can't be serious." "I told you I never joke about food." She studied him thoughtfully for several moments. "I could use an extra pair of hands and you did help me immensely today. If it hadn't been for you, I'd still be putting up with that guy." "I didn't do anything. You did it all yourself." Jillian crossed her arms. "If you're serious about an abbreviated payment plan, and understand we can't have anything between us romantically, then you've got yourself a deal." "Can I bring my boss flowers?" "Only if you buy them here." She stuck out her hand. "Fair enough."

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Last night hadn't turned out exactly as he'd planned. Garrett took a quick sip of steaming black coffee. Had he completely lost all of his suave moves? He lowered his head and ran his short fingernails across his scalp, accomplishing nothing. Everything had started in the right direction. After dinner they'd gone to her place. Jillian headed to the bathroom to “get comfortable.” He'd taken her words as his subtle cue to get ready for a night of sex, sex, SEX. He'd plopped a box of condoms on the nightstand, undressed, and kicked the cat out of the room. The events were all going to lead to one hell of a night of bed rockin’ until she waltzed out of the bathroom and screamed. Screamed. A woman screaming while viewing you naked is not good. Her hair was in a ponytail, she'd washed off her make-up and her glasses hung on her nose. Her high pitched shout should have cured him of his pompous stiffy. Instead, he grabbed a pillow to conceal his not-so-subtle show of enthusiasm. Garrett had apologized for his assumptions, hopped back into his rented car, and took his wounded ego home. He would have slept just fine had he not been so wrought with desire and filled with visions of hot, sweaty, sex with her. His brother breezed into the office looking like he hadn’t a care in the world. "Your girl should take it easy on you. You need more sleep at night, old man." Wyatt removed the coffee from Garrett's hand, gulped a swallow, then replaced the cup into his still warm palm. Garrett squinted at his brother, who wore a black tuxedo. His bowtie hung haphazardly around his neck, the top two buttons of his shirt were unfastened, and a single finger held a drooping jacket over his shoulder.

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Garrett longed to appear that carefree. "Late night?" "I just got back from the Bahamas. After work yesterday, a few of us decided the grand opening of your hotel went so well we needed to play some poker and celebrate." "How much did you lose?" "Ha! I'll have you know the Atlantis casino asked me to leave so they wouldn't go broke." "I have a hard time believing that." "Yeah, but it sounded good, didn't it?" Garrett slumped into the office sofa and smiled. His brother had to be the worst card player in the world. He yapped, drank too much, bet out of turn, and had a poker face as easy to read as a Dick and Jane book. But he was always the life of the party. Lucky bastard. "Thanks for holding down the fort yesterday." Wyatt tossed his jacket on a chair. "I would love to tell you I had everything to do with yesterday's successful opening but you had oiled the crew so well, everything ran smooth." "Is that a compliment?" Garrett covered his heart, bent his knees and mocked a heart pain. Wyatt withdrew his tie from around his neck. "I suppose it was. I'd rather poke fun at you, but you look like you survived a bordello raid, so I'll pass." "I would have welcomed a root canal instead of the night I had." Wyatt shook his head. "Hmm. Love's a nasty bug. Thank God I haven't been bitten. Just look at what it's turned you into." "There nothing wrong with me that a few hours of sleep won't fix. But before I can catch some shut eye, I need a favor." "Now, how did I know you were going to say that? Probably because your receptionist, along with alerting me that the red lipstick on my jaw wasn't my shade, filled me in on your insane plan." Wyatt kicked off his shoes. "Nothing I do seems sane anymore." Wyatt laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. "When should I make the call?" "She's at work now." Garrett plucked the receiver from the cradle and tossed the handset to his brother. He closed his eyes and hoped the plan worked.

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Wyatt dialed her number and cleared his throat. "One ring… two rings… three… Looks like someone's too busy to answer the phone. Four rings… Five—maybe she and her ex are rekindling their relationship—Hello, Jillian's Petals? Is this Ms. Connelly?" Wyatt waited a beat. "Hi, I'm Wyatt McGuinness. I recently opened a hotel here in Magnolia Springs… Oh, good, so you've heard of us. Well then, let me get straight to the point. I need to hire a florist to supply my hotel with flowers for our suites daily and fill any special customer requests." Wyatt switched ears with the phone. "Ms. Connelly. Oh, of course—Jillian. I'm prepared to offer you a sizable sum to ensure your daily commitment with us. But we can go over payment later, maybe over dinner-" Garrett kicked Wyatt's shin. "Ow. Oh, it's nothing. My incompetent assistant tripped over his own feet and landed on my leg. Yes, he is quite the klutz. Anyway Jillian, do you think this is an undertaking that Jillian's Petals would care to explore?" Wyatt laughed, uh-huhed, and giggled. What man giggles? He was flirting with her! "Okay, I'll fax over the papers." Garrett sighed and rolled his eyes. "It was my pleasure to make your day." Wyatt dropped the phone into its base. "If you weren't my brother…" "Yeah, you can thank me later. I'm going to sleep for a few hours. Oh, by the way, Jen Weldon will be here this morning." Garrett squeezed his eyes. "I completely forgot she was enchanting us with her presence." "Well, I just reminded you. And Jen hates me, so don't even ask if I'll cover for you." Wyatt headed toward the exit. What girl hadn't Wyatt pissed off? "I'll take care of Weldon's daughter, because I appreciate what you did for me today and yesterday." Wyatt drew back into the office, and lounged casually against the door frame. "Come clean with Jillian. This isn't your style. It's my style, and I know from experience you always get burned in a lie."

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Garrett wanted so desperately to be honest with her, but how would she react? Maybe she'd understand. But more than likely, she wouldn't. "If you strike out with her, pass her on to me. I'm in the market for a pretty wife." Garrett reached for a stuffed mallard sitting beside him and chucked it in the direction of his brother. Wyatt narrowly escaped the flying object, but the uppity debutante rounding the door did not. **** Jillian watched the glistening stream of water plummet from the lion's mouth and fall into the lighted pewter pool below. The serene sound eventually lulled her racing heart. It had been over two hours since she received the fabulous news, but she was still riding the adrenaline rush. The lobby's décor in the luxurious McGuinness Hotel was the ultimate combination of classical architecture meets modern elegance. No detail had been overlooked, from the Italian marble to the rustic leather furniture, down to the extraordinary amenities tailored to fit each guest. The hotel spared no cost in creating a warm, yet exclusive feel. And she, in her own small way, would add to a piece of the hotel's charm. Jillian smoothed the material of her business skirt. It had felt exhilarating to accomplish this feat by herself. With a regular income, she could pay her bills on time without Kent's help. And maybe even have money left over. Don't think about it until after you sign the contract. But oh, it was hard not to. Opportunities of this magnitude didn't present themselves regularly. Missing from the day of over-joy was Garrett. She desperately longed to spill the great news to him. The little voice in the back of her head screamed don't go there. But sometimes little voices were meant to be ignored. Securing the contract with the McGuinness Hotel allowed her to offer him a full time, permanent position. He could stay on, work for her, and deliver flowers to the hotel. Hopefully he'd be as excited as she was. Last night at dinner, she'd had the most intriguing time. He'd known what wine to order to compliment their steaks, how to pronounce the appetizers, and how to conduct himself like a pro in the posh restaurant. He'd seemed completely comfortable in the high-class surroundings.

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The conversation flowed like they were old college friends, yet the way she felt in his presence told her they were so much more than platonic pals. How much longer could she hold off from touching him, kissing him, having wicked sex with him again? Maybe tonight she'd fire him, fool around, and hire him back in the morning. How could she even think about any sort of a relationship again? Especially with a man she barely knew? He just seemed so honest, so true. So refreshing. Her heart skipped a beat and a smile crept over her lips. Maybe it was time to try again. "Ms. Connelly." The red-headed administrative assistant motioned her forward. Jillian shot from her chair. "Hi. I just wanted to drop off a portfolio of floral arrangements. I thought if Mr. McGuinness was acquainted with my styles, we'd be able to discuss exactly what kind of displays he'd like to order." The red-head nodded. "I'll see that Mr. McGuinness gets this." "Thank you." Jillian waited for woman to say more. Instead, the assistant spun on her heel and hurriedly disappeared around a comer. What had she expected to accomplish from coming down to the hotel? Did she really expect Mr. Wyatt McGuinness to tromp in and meet her one on one? Well, yes. Truthfully, she wanted to meet the man who'd changed her life with one phone call. Navigating her way back through the lobby, she passed the hotel's restaurant. She stopped and peered into the romantic room. Candles flickered, casting mysterious shadows on the walls. Spicy, exotic aromas wafted through the air as a violin and a piano filled the room with smoothing melodies. She stepped inside and examined the framed menu. Seared Ahi Tuna, Rigatoni Alla Marinara, Haricots Verts... A deep, sensual chuckle caught her attention. Garrett? Quickly, she scanned the muted area. What in the blazes was he doing in the hotel's restaurant? He'd told her he couldn't come to work until the afternoon, but she'd assumed he was running errands, grocery shopping or cleaning his condo. Not dining in one of the most expensive restaurants in town.

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He even appeared different. His stature, his air, his posture and his stunning black suit. Confidence and assuredness oozed from every pore of his stature, like he belonged in the room. Not exactly the Garrett she was acquainted with. The waving of red material caught her eye and her gaze fell to the woman sitting with him at their cozy table-for-two. Had she been there all along? More importantly, who the heck was she? No. Not again. She fought hard for her next gulp of air. Was this his lover? His girlfriend? Oh God, maybe his wife? Her stomach dropped, her knees buckled, and she braced herself on the maître d's podium. Was she going to faint? All of a sudden the scene was becoming very black with pallid spots. Stop it. So, he's having lunch with a woman—a woman who was practically sitting in his lap— but this could be nothing. Don't you dare cry, Jillian. He was a weekend fling. Nothing more. Except maybe, in her heart, he had become something a little extra. Pull on your big girl panties Jillian, and march up to your employee. Say hello like you haven't a care in the world.

Blah. Blah. Me. Me. God, he couldn't survive another freaking minute of Jen Weldon. Having lunch with her reiterated just how much he enjoyed a woman like Jillian, whose universe didn't revolve around designer shoes and handbags that were so expensive they should be hand cuffed to a women's wrist. Jen batted her lashes and raked her perfectly manicured fingernails along his sleeve. "New York is so boring without you there. You'll never believe who had a facelift. Last weekend in the Hamptons, at the Rutherford's cocktail…" The poor girl. She hadn't missed a beat after surviving the flying mallard. He checked his watch, reached for his beer, then guzzled down half. He'd resorted to drinking before noon in Jen's presence. How much longer until he could see… "Jillian?"

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He rubbed his eyes. Was his mind playing a trick on him? She walked toward him. Her floral fragrance, which he had grown quite fond of, swirled in the air. "What are you doing here?" He quickly stood, his cloth napkin sliding to the floor. "Funny, I was wondering the very same thing about you." Her voice held equal parts sweet sugar and toxic acid. Garrett rounded the table and attempted to give her a hug. She turned her back on him, sending an ice cold current through his veins. "Sorry." He'd forgotten the whole no contact with the boss thing. A dainty throat cleared filling the silence. Jen. He already forgotten about her? "Jillian, this is my oldest family friend, Jen Weldon. She's visiting from New York." Jillian blinked out of a trance and politely shook Jen's hand. "Jen, this is my girlfriend, Jillian." "Girlfriend!" Both women bellowed in unison. He wasn't sure who to acknowledge first. "Can I have a private word with you?" Jillian didn't wait for him. She merely clutched his elbow and marched him toward a dimly-lit corner of the room. "Excuse us." He tossed over his shoulder to Jen. The glow of flickering light danced in her eyes. "I'm not sure what kind of stunt you're pulling here, mister, but I won't be a part of it." "Mister? What happened to ‘Hi, nice to see you, Garrett? How's the weather? What's been up?’" What was her problem? She stood before him with her hands clinched into tight balls at her sides and enough anger to explode like a volcano. "Garrett, I don't have time for your games." She glared at him with burning, reproachful eyes. "Look, I have to be honest here. This anger thing is a major turn on." He was playing with fire, but God, he wanted to kiss those pouty lips. Jillian hastily began to retreat from their powwow. His hand secured her shoulder and spun her back to face him. "Sweetheart, I'm just joking around with you. I thought I could get you to loosen up a bit. You seem stressed."

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"Don't you dare ‘sweetheart’ me." She yanked herself free. "You think I don't know what you're doing here with her?" Garrett turned to view "the her." He didn't get it. Could Jillian actually be upset about Jen? There was no comparing the two. They weren't even in the same galaxy. "What exactly are you accusing me of?" "Don't act innocent with me." He lifted her chin, meeting her icy gaze straight on. "There's nothing romantic between Jen and I." "Look at you. You're dressed in that chic suit and tie like you own this darn hotel or something. And she's practically sitting in your lap. How do you expect to pay for lunch, Mr. Unemployed-man? I'm not going to torture myself. I'm outta here. Don't come back to Jillian's Petals. You no longer work there." Good God! She assumed he and Jen were screwing behind her back after catching them at lunch together? He'd known Jillian had trust issues, he'd hadn't known exactly how deep they'd run. "I didn't realize you cared enough for me to be jealous." "I don't care one iota about you, and I'm not jealous. Naïve for sure, but not jealous. Jealousy consumes one only after they open their heart, and my heart is not open to you." She wrapped her arms around her midriff. "I'm just tired of watching men fool around right in front of my eyes." He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. "You're assuming an awful lot from merely catching me share a lunch with a woman." "I'm not assuming anything. I'm not a fool, Garrett. I see what is going on here. Don't try to deny it. I've been so stupid before and trusted so openly. I can't be deceived any more. I told you all men cheat, it's just a matter of time." Damn the men who've hurt you. "You're not giving me a chance here. I'm not Kent. Or Michael. Or your father. Unless you give me a chance to prove that to you, you'll be wasting something that I think has great potential." "To think I thought you were different. Will I ever learn?" Jillian spoke calmly, with no sparkle of excitement in her eyes, and no smile of tenderness on her lips. With confidence solid as oak, he confessed from his heart, "You may not believe this today, but I will never cheat on you Jillian Connelly. Not now, not ever. I'm having lunch with a

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family friend. Nothing more. I didn't want her to know I'm between jobs, so I put on a suit and met her in an expensive restaurant to keep up pretenses. I've told her all about you and how special I think you are. And I expressed how lucky I am to have found such an extraordinary woman. I'm sure she thinks I'm a total sap, but it's how I feel." She lowered her lashes. "Why did you call me your girlfriend?" "I wanted Jen to know how special you are to me. Would you rather I'd introduced you as my crotchety, evil boss?" She cracked a tiny smile, the sight of which began to untwist the tight ball of stress in his stomach. "So, there's honestly nothing between you two?" "Jen drives me nuts. Always has. Nothing about her draws me in. You, on the other hand, make me feel just the opposite." He'd never admitted to so much, so quickly before. "Thank you. That means a lot to me. I will try to believe you. I really will. But it's hard." "I'll give you all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere." "I like the way that sounds." "Then kiss me," he whispered. She hesitated. "Here?" "Right here, right now." She complied. The kiss started slowly as her lips pressed softly against his. Heat filled him and sent shivers of desire pumping wildly through is veins. "Who's covering Jillian's Petals?" he asked after the contact broke. "I received a very interesting phone call today, so a friend who owes me a favor is watching the store." She dropped her chin on his chest. "So, you could take a few hours off and no one would care?" "I suppose." She grinned. "I would like to show you something." Her eyes grew openly amused. "Sounds kinky." "It's not, but I like the direction your mind is heading."

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CHAPTER NINE

"Where are we going?" Garrett shifted the stick into fifth gear and sped around the curve in the highway. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you." "I can't believe your friend let you use this amazing car." "He trusts me." Watching Jillian's hair blow from the wind got him thinking. Could he imagine her as his co-driver in life forever? Would he ever tire of her company? No, it didn't seem likely. He wanted her so damn bad now, and forever. That just seemed like the happiest thought he could imagine. The amount of analyzing he'd done over the past few days, about her and the future of their relationship, was probably enough to warrant some kind of restraining order. It was just… He'd never been in love before, or if he had, it certainly hadn't felt like this. Two weeks ago, had he been told he'd fall head over ass in love with a woman he'd know for less than a week, he'd never believe it. Yet his feelings were completely real. And it felt amazing. "How do you think Mr. McGuinness heard about Jillian's Petals?" She'd been so excited to break the news to Garrett. Eyes wide, especially as she recited her phone call from Wyatt, she reminded him of a child on Christmas. "Maybe Mr. McGuinness browsed through the store one day and saw you. Then thought ‘Hey, I want that sexy chick delivering flowers to my hotel so I can check out her fine a—er, rear anytime I want.’" "Garrett." Disappointment sprinkled her voice. "I think I got this job on merit. Erin's wedding was some of the best displays I'd made to date. Mr. McGuinness was probably a guest at the wedding or happened upon the room. Then he flagged down the hotel manager and demanded he reveal the name of who arranged the flowers." Garrett turned on his blinker. "Maybe McGuinness flipped open the yellow pages and your shop's name sounded catchy."

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"No. I got this job because he saw my work and realized he wanted that kind of craftsmanship displayed in his hotel." "Does it matter how you got the job?" Jeez. He hadn't analyzed the offer all the way through. The manger of a hotel had no clue who delivered the flowers. As long as the hotel ran smoothly and appeared attractive, the small details were left for others to deal with. "I guess it doesn't matter. It's just I hope I don't disappoint a big-time businessman like him." "You'll do fine. Give yourself some credit. You're an excellent florist and I love your work." Garrett turned his car into his long private drive. The hundred acre spread had caught his attention initially due to its impressive size. After one glance at the driveway flanked with oaks, the ten acres of private Oceanfront shoreline, and the heavily stocked fishing lake, there was nothing left to do but settle on a date to move in. "Oh my." Jillian gasped. "Is this where your friend lives?" "Not until tomorrow's closing. Do you like it?" "It's breath taking. Can we go in the house?" "We'll sneak in a window. I want to show you the staircase. It's the only thing that will remain unchanged. He's making major renovations. The house won't be livable for months, but hopefully it'll be tolerable when it's done." She smiled. "Does your friend have a wife? Kids?" Garrett watched her eyes light with admiration for his home. "He's working on it." He brought the car to a stop beneath an oak tree drooping with Spanish moss and popped the trunk. "Stay there." He jumped out of his seat, extracted a picnic basket from the back, then opened the car door for her. "When did you have the time to prepare for this?" "I called my personal assistant and she took care of everything." Jillian smiled. "I'm sure she did. Maybe I'll call mine and ask her to do my laundry for the week." "Assistants don't like doing laundry. Their contract usually states ‘no touching dirty underwear.’" "Good to know. I wouldn't want mine to quit due to a miscommunication."

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Garrett placed his hand on the small of her back and led her toward the ocean. "I thought we could have a picnic on the beach." "Sounds perfect to me." He and Jillian removed their shoes and sand oozed between his toes. He found a spot, spread a tartan blanket and sat. Waves crashed, seagulls squawked and sunshine warmed their bodies. Her cell phone rang, destroying the completely serene moment. She rummaged through her purse until she found the phone. "I wouldn't have thought I'd get a signal way out here." "You can be tracked down anywhere these days." "Hello." She lounged back on one elbow and crossed her ankles. "I was just about to call you." Garrett opened the basket and extracted two colas. He cracked open the tops and handed her one. "I wanted to start by saying thank you for everything. I’ll never forget the good times, the bad times and all the times in between. But I can't fly to Vegas, and I can't marry you. I know you understand why." He should give Jillian and Kent some privacy. This wasn't a conversation he needed to hear first hand. Garrett began to stand but Jillian clamped his wrist and pulled him back to the blanket. Did she need moral support? "I'm sorry, I just can't try again with you, Kent. I've moved on, and I have someone... I mean new opportunities in my life." So maybe she felt something for him after all. . "I landed a job today that will give me a steady income. It also came with a signing bonus, which means I have the money to buy you out of Jillian's Petals. I know you must be so thrilled to learn you don't have me or the store as burdens anymore." She paused. "Kent, are you still there? "Oh good, I thought I'd lost you. I know this is abrupt, but I can't keep relying on your generosity. The money will be deposited into your bank account first thing in the morning. Thanks for all the business help. We had some really good times that I'll cherish forever. And I really hope we can stay friends."

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Not the let's be friends speech. Poor guy. Garrett actually began to feel sorry for Kent. "Sure. Hold on." Jillian passed the phone to Garrett with a shrug. "I want to go dip my feet in the water. Be right back." Watching her hips sway as she walked to the water thoroughly turned him on, but what didn't when it came to her? "This better be important." Garrett spat out between clenched teeth. "I'm on a date." "It's important, Garrett. Or should I say Garrett Jason McGuinness. Part owner of the exclusive McGuinness hotel chain. Born in New York City, October 20. Oldest of five brothers-" "I got it. So, you've checked up on me." "It wasn't hard." "I didn't plan for it to be. So, now what? Blackmail me for your silence?" Kent laughed. "Don't flatter yourself. Not everyone wants a handout from you, rich boy. I just want what is rightfully mine." "Take the flower shop, Kent. I'll buy her another one." "You don't get it, do you? I don't want the damn flower shop. I want her." Who did Kent think he was? "She's not a possession. If she wanted to be with you, she would be. I'm not keeping her from you." Kent cleared his throat. "You may not be, but you certainly aren't prodding her my way either." "Then why conceal the truth about me?" "I figure when she discovers the facts on her own, it'll break her heart, and she'll come back to me for comfort." "You think she'll need you to comfort her? Give her a little credit, Kent. She managed to walk away from you quite easily even while you two were engaged." Jillian returned with shells in her hands. "This chat's been enlightening, but I have other things that need my attention." Garrett closed the phone and tossed it into her purse. "You take great pleasure in torturing him, don't you?" He exhaled slowly, took a slow pull on his cola and attempted to redirect his mounting rage. "Who, me?"

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She sat beside him. For the first time since this charade began, he was in way over his head. He didn't want to hurt her, but at this point, how could he not? He'd have to deal with the repercussions of his actions. He'd never give up on her and maybe with time, she'd learn to forgive him. "Your friend's home will be amazing when it's done. The view alone is worth buying the property. I would live in a tree if it meant I could wake up to this scenery each day." She placed her hand over his. "Is this owner the same friend who owns the yacht and the fancy sports car?" "Yeah, they're all owned by the same guy." It’s the same scummy guy who has been deceiving you since he met you. She leaned toward him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "You know what I think?" Oh God, here it comes. She's figured you out. Kent, the slime, had told her, and she knew the truth. Dammit. "I can explain." She silenced him with her finger. "Shhh. I know why you took me out on the boat, borrowed the car, and brought me to the seclude beach. I realize you're trying to impress me. Don't get me wrong. Everything you have done has overwhelmed me. Since meeting you, it's been like a fairytale. But I don't need all this fluff and absorbance. Simplicity is really more my speed. I would love to see where you live. I want to stop using your friend's stuff, and start using yours. I want to curl up on your couch, have dinner in your kitchen, and who knows, maybe even wake up in your bed." Garrett stared. Was she for real? His mouth felt like a dusty road, too dry to swallow. And at that moment, he knew he didn't deserve her. She was an angel, and he'd never be worthy. If only he had it to do over again. He wouldn't have withheld the truth. She didn't deserve such deception from him. He was no better than Kent. Maybe even worse. Kent was slime, but Garrett was the slime that Kent lived on. "You want to see where I live?" "Yes, I really do." "All of the material stuff doesn't matter to you, does it?" Jillian shook her head. "It really doesn't."

Life was so easy, with Garrett.

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They flowed together marvelously. He always left her laughing, forgetting her stresses, and taught her to live in the moment. His enthusiasm for life was contagious, and she found herself humming, smiling, and in a jolly mood more than ever before. Where could this relationship go if it weren't for her job? In another time, another place, she would quit her career and find out. Just her luck. Wonderful opportunities, wrong timing. As great as it felt cutting all strings with Kent, she knew in the back of her mind he was her safety net—always there to catch her. Maybe she'd made a mistake by letting him go, but there was no looking back now. The time had come to grow up and accept total responsibly for her life and business. Unfortunately, total independence meant no time for a torrid romance. Maybe in a year or two when her career didn't completely suffocate her. Wishful thinking. And too much darn thinking. She wanted Garrett again, in the worst way. So she did what any sexually confident woman would do and she straddled him, then began unbuttoning his shirt. "What are you doing?" He stopped her hands. She wiggled her arms free and continued undressing him. "I'm having a nooner with my employee. Hopefully he won't file a sexual harassment suit on me, but if he does, it'll have been worth it." She exposed his chest and gently sunk her teeth around his nipple. A surge of desire raced through her body. Being the dominant partner totally rocked. Garrett pulled away and cupped her face in his palms. "I want to make love to you right now in the worst way, but I have something I need to confess first. This is long overdue." "Whatever it is, it can wait. I am so horny I can hardly stand it." She unbuttoned and removed her blouse, took off her bra, then slipped out of her skirt. Garrett blinked. "This would be a lot more fun if you got involved. I have to get back to work soon. Let's not waste the time talking. Tonight, come over to my house. I'll whip us up some fettuccini alfredo and you can tell me anything and everything you want. All night long. But for right now, pleeeese, let's have wild outdoor monkey sex."

Tara Greenbaum Garrett gaze was stagnant. Then a glint of lust filled his eyes as he removed his shirt, pants, and boxers. He removed her panties slowly. He clamped her hips, and gently guided her throbbing body onto his erection. Soft, warm flesh pressed deeper and deeper inside her as she slowly let him fill her. This was perfect. The two of them on a warm beach in the middle of the afternoon. She couldn't have planned this moment any better if she'd tried. "Oh baby," he half whispered, half moaned. "Stop!" She bolted off his lap in one fluid movement. "What's wrong?" His breathing increased. "You're not wearing a condom." He viewed his nakedness. "Holy shit. I've never forgotten to wear protection in my life. I'm so sorry." "It's just as much my fault. Do you have one stashed somewhere?" “Not since I was fifteen, when I had them stashed in every pocket, everyday, just in case." She smiled. "You know, there are other things we could do that don't require a rain jacket." "Oh really?" He lounged on the blanket, taking her with him, toying with a wisp of her hair. ”Do enlighten me." "Well, I could announce a blue light special on isle two from your microphone." He rocked with laughter. "How did you deliver that line with a straight face?" "Practice." "Have you got any more?" He kissed her temple. "I could take you for a spin with your five-speed stick shift." He rolled onto his back and draped his arm over his eyes. "Have your way with me, Mario Andretti." "It's a turn-on watching you explode." She kissed his belly button. Garrett pulled her up beside him again. "What am I going to do with you?" His skin felt like a warm blanket taken straight from the dryer, minus the static cling sheet, because electricity seemed to arc throughout her when he was near.

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"I thought I was driving the Garrett-mobile," she whispered. "I'd rather just lay here with you in my arms and watch you." She spoke on his lips, "I don't care if we don't have a condom, I want, no, need you in me. Deep, deep inside me, please." She hardly recognized her own beseeching voice. "Jillian, I want to make you happy, but tomorrow you may not be content with that decision. So, I'm going to be the bad guy and not give in. Not that I don't want to make love to you, mind you. But I don't want you to have any regrets." How did he know exactly the right thing to say to leave her even more turned-on? "Okay, but tonight bring a box, or two." "I love you, Jillian Connelly." What? Oh sure. Men expressed all sorts of faux emotions after the promise of amazing hot, wild, crazy sex. "I'm excited about tonight too, and I am going to love getting crazy with you." "I'm serious." He sat and pulled her onto his lap. "I'm in love with you. It started the day in the coffee shop." "Oh Garrett. Really, it's okay. You're locked in for tonight. Chances of you getting booty later are one hundred percent." "Jillian, I've never said ‘I love you’ before. Not for more sex, not for a blow job, not ever. I'm telling you how I feel." "Well... I. Um. I… didn't expect to hear that from you… ever. Um. I need to get back to work." Jillian moved from his lap and put on her shirt. "What?" Jillian grabbed her shoes and clothes then shot off of the blanket. "Wait." Garrett bounded from the blanket and wrapped his hand around her arm, stopping her. Mesmerized by his contact, she involuntarily shivered under his strong fingertips. "I can't breathe." "You don't have to feel the same way. Hopefully some day you will, but don't feel bad if you don't now." "You work for me. I'm your boss. We can't… We shouldn't be doing any of this." "Oh, not this again." He rolled his eyes heavenward.

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This wasn't the way this affair was to end. No strings meant never saying “I love you.” Not “let's build a relationship.” She'd seen the hurt in her mother's eyes when her father had been found out as the town's cheat. She'd seen the anguish in Erin after finding hickies on her new husband. And she'd felt the pain that came from loving someone, only to find he was sleeping with everyone else but you. No, thanks. She was not going down that road again. Not now, not ever. And especially not with Garrett-hot-ass-Guinness. Good looking men like him were never faithful. No man would take her heart and stomp it to smithereens again. She tugged from his grasp, finished dressing, and sprinted to the car with scorching tears dripping from her chin.

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CHAPTER TEN

Garrett handed his brother a glass of whiskey tinted with a splash of soda. Wrapping his fingers around his own glass, he joined his sibling, who'd made himself completely at home on Garrett's boat. Garrett plopped down on the couch and stretched out his legs. A mind-numbing state was exactly what he needed tonight. "Can you believe this weather?" Wyatt turned from the yacht's porthole as a snap of lighting cracked the sky. "It hasn't let up for hours." Garrett grunted a reply, his gaze never straying from the bottom of his glass. Wyatt reached for the remote. "Mind if I flip on the game? I've got ten G's riding on New York." "Whatever." "Whatever? What's up with you?" Wyatt took a sip of his drink. "Whoa. What are we trying to forget here?" Garrett ignored his brother. His head was pounding, his stomach felt like he'd eaten week-old, moldy take out, and his heart ached like it'd been torn in two. Massaging his temples, he analyzed the day. This wasn't the way the he'd envisioned the evening ending. Wyatt stood. "Hey, I'm going to find your mint Mickey Mantle baseball card and use it as a coaster." "Okay," he mumbled and squeezed his burning eyes until he was seeing stars. Snapping fingers popped in front of his eyes. "He-llooo. Anyone in there?" His brother lobbed a small, round pillow at his head. Garrett dodged it at the last moment. He soared to his feet and his brain followed with a short delay. "Look, I came out to my boat so I wouldn't have to talk to or see anyone. I don't care if you stay as long as you shut the hell up."

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Garrett stormed up the wooden stairs and stopped when the cold, hard rain pelted his face. Aw hell. The water stung like rocks, only the pain didn't deter his mind from replaying the night. The “I'm in love with you” words that had lost him his girl. Forever. God, he'd messed up. Big time. Was he thinking Jillian would say “I love you” back? She thinks you’re a loser. An unemployed loser who uses his friend's stuff without shame. Oh yes, I can see why Jillian didn't fall at my feet expressing her desire to become the next Mrs. Garrett McGuinness . . . Dammit . . . Mrs. Garrett Guinness. Hell, the girl he was in love with didn't even know his real last name. "I know you don't want to talk to me." His brother shouted from the lower deck. "But there's someone on the phone who I think you might." **** "That bastard told you he loved you." Erin jingled over to Jillian's bed in pink bunny slippers, complete with floppy ears and a bell in each fluffy tail. "This isn't a joke. I really think he meant it." Jillian took the oversized coffee cup from Erin's outstretched hands. "Of course he meant it. What man wouldn't want you?" Erin offered her an Earl Grey tea bag. Dunking the bag into the steaming cup, she realized how symbolic this ritual had become. Her, Erin, and Earl Gray. "This is a major deja vu for us, isn't it?" "You mean you and me and no men? Don't remind me. Why, just last weekend I was married, assured I'd never have another dateless night." Here Jillian was concerned with her troubles, her measly, tiny woes, when her best friend had to escape her own apartment due to the overflow of unopened wedding gifts. Sometimes, Jillian, you are such a horrible friend. "Did you enjoy Jamaica at all?" "Besides being called Mrs. Michael Akins the entire visit, it wasn't that bad. I vegged on the beach and drank margaritas to dull the pain."

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Good for nothing men. Good thing she had walked out on Garrett without divulging her feelings. One thing would have lead to another and in a few months it would be Jillian who'd be standing in Erin's bunny slippers. Erin wrathfully cocked her strawberry-blond head to one side. "I didn't want to hear anything that cheating, lying husband of mine had to say." "Who could blame you?" Jillian wrung out her tea bag with the dipping string and deposited the sack on a wadded tissue. "But then, we talked, and I decided to listen. He emerged from the neighboring bungalow—he'd followed me to Jamaica." "No way." Jillian folded her legs beneath her. "Yep. We hashed it out, then he left. I just can't forgive him. It's over." "I understand, completely." "We're filing for an annulment in the morning." Jillian took a sip of her tea. "I feel so bad for you." Erin blew into her teacup. "Don't feel bad. You take a chance, you get hurt, you dust yourself off and move on." "I wish I could be so complacent." "Life is short Jill. Opportunities only come around so often. You have to take what you can get and ride the wave. Take me, for example. I have a date tomorrow night." "What! How could you? Aren't you over men for good?" "Absolutely not. I met a nice guy today at your shop, a total hottie. He had me laughing from the moment I met him." "Where was I? Why didn't I meet him?" "You were out." Erin flopped down beside Jillian. "I think you should give Garrett a chance." How in the world did this conversation get turned around? No one had been discussing her relationship. No, the Garrett and Jillian relationship was a closed subject. Their fling had passed its prime. Time to move on, focus on the shop, and maybe in a few months have another fling. Flings don't bring heartache. Flings don't cheat. Flings don'tKeep you warm at night and whisper “I'm in love with you” after sharing passionate sex.

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She swallowed the persistent lump lodged in her throat. For the past few hours, it seemed to form whenever she imagined never seeing those cornflower eyes or that big grin again. Her stomach hadn't yet untwisted from the hard knot that formed when she'd jumped from his car, as he stood with his hands on his hips in nothing but adorable boxer shorts. This stunk. Erin winged a cordless phone into Jillian's lap. "Call Garrett. Tell him you love him back. Explain your trust issues, and he'll understand why you wigged and ran." Jillian's whole body engulfed in a tide of despair. "I'm not in love with him." "Oh, really?" "Really, I'm not. But I do feel horrible about ruining the picnic the way I did." "Did you leave because he's poor, jobless, and has no place to live? Or did you leave because you're afraid if you trust him with your heart, he'll steal it and return it to you broken." Jillian gulped a sip of tea. "The money situation doesn't bother me. It's more of the taking my heart and crunching it into a zillion pieces that leaves me apprehensive." Even though he was the type of man who was self-assured, possessed sheer masculine dignity, and perseverance seemed to ooze from his character, Jillian wasn't looking for any of those qualities. She only needed a man so she wouldn't need to replace her vibrator's batteries. Who was she kidding? The truth was out. The vibrator theory wasn't cutting it anymore, even for her. "So, you'll keep your heart under house arrest, have weekend flings for the rest of your life and allow a magnificent man to waltz away." "I doubt he'll be waltzing anywhere." "Where's the fearless Jillian I used to know? The one who loved recklessly and lived for the moment. The girl who asked Billy Bedford to the prom even though he had a stunning girlfriend?" She got tired of getting hurt. "She grew up." Erin covered her legs with a throw blanket, leaving the bunnies ears poking out. "You do realize you're in love with him, don't you?" "You're crazy!" "I am crazy, but I'm also right. At least call him and make sure he's still reporting for work tomorrow," Erin said.

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Jillian sighed heavily. "I guess I do need to reiterate that even though we can't have a romantic relationship, he should continue to work for me." A wry smile crossed Erin's face. "That's oh so generous of you."

Jillian stared at the street entrance door, and as she had for the past week, waited with baited breath until Garrett tromped in from his daily deliveries to the McGuinness hotel. She took the last bite of her ham and cheese on spinach pita and once again tried to focus on the store's bookkeeping. Miraculously, her numbers were up and her profit from this month had doubled since last. Through her new client, the grand McGuinness Hotel, she'd managed to secure another high-powered customer. Two days ago, she'd successfully landed the exclusive Willow Tree Restaurant. The proprietor of the restaurant enjoyed the bouquet of summer wildflowers Jillian had Garrett place in the woman's suite so much that the owner herself contacted Jillian's Petals. Score. Her life should now be fulfilled. It should feel like standing in a shower of rose petals on a summer day. Jillian should be happy. Only she felt nothing but blue. Funny how when one part of your life flourishes the rest of your life turns to total crap. She told herself over and over to forget about those dangerous blue eyes, yet here again today she waited like a little beagle for her owner to come home and pat her on the head. God, she was such a pathetic girl. Garrett had been such the complete gentleman since the day on the beach, not allowing an uncomfortable air to form between them. He’d never asked for her feelings on the "I love you" subject, yet sadly, hadn't restated his. This was precisely the way she wanted things to be between the two of them. At least that's what she told herself at three this morning while downing a second tube of raw cookie dough. She still yearned to have a relationship with him away from her flower shop. So why couldn't she express her newfound feelings?

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After sucking the creases of the cookie dough wrapper, she'd fallen into a full-bellied sugar coma and drifted away to a wonderful land where eating donuts left you looking like a super model and Garrett Guinness was once again her lover. In one pull, his strong hands tugged away the thin sheet that covered her naked body, leaving her cool, bare skin exposed. His fingers scorched her skin as he spread her legs. He manipulated her in ways she'd only imagined possible. Garrett brought her again and again to the peak of orgasm. When daylight finally seared her eyes, she was horribly hot, completely horny, and beyond pissed off. She had analyzed her dream as she'd driven to work, and diagnosed herself. That little voice—the one that nags you to do the right thing—left her feeling that it wasn't just the sex that she desired from him. It was more. So much more. Like… everything. She sucked from her straw and watched sweet lemonade rise to her lips. Maybe all this frustration with Garrett was simply due to the fact that he seemed to be exceedingly busy after work each day. He fled from the shop after his shift like a man delivering vital organs to the operating room table. And while at work, he seemed preoccupied with some sort of escapade. His cell phone never stopped tweeting and his responses where as cryptic as a mole. He'd met someone else. If she honestly thought about Garrett, she'd know just how deep in her heart he had burrowed. But if she acknowledged her feelings, he'd win and she'd be vulnerable once again. And she wasn't planning a second trip down the aisle of heartache. And then, just like a summer breeze, he entered her floral shop. She snapped from her daydreams. "Afternoon, boss." Garrett ambled toward her, drinking coffee and smelling too damn good for words. Leather and musk wafted through the air and greeted her moments before he did. He looked wicked and dangerous even though he only wore blue jeans and a white t-shirt. She jerked her gaze away from him, stood, then quickly sat again. Chill out, Jillian, and get a grip. "Everything go okay at the hotel? Did the VIP enjoy her pink gerbera daisies?"

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"All parties were pleased," he said, and then winked. Oh, he was so cute. She was desperate for a conversation with him. "You and I don't small talk anymore." She nibbled on a fingernail. Garrett set down his coffee, picked up a broom, then began to sweep the floor. "I was under the impression small talk was not something you wanted." "W-what? I never said anything like that." She grabbed a pencil and began twirling it between her fingers. "No, you're right. You haven't said much at all lately." "I haven't said much lately? Mister, you have become as silent as a marshmallow." She was in love with him. And she wanted to tell him, yet he was getting it on with someone else. Even the thought of him showering another woman with hot kisses left her wanting to punch something. Snap! The pencil she'd been holding spilt in two. Garrett didn't miss a beat. He just swept the pieces into his growing trash pile. Enough was enough, already. She had to know. "Are you seeing someone else?!" Oh Jeez, you're so suave, Jillian. Garrett immediately stopped. "No, I'm not seeing anyone. Are you?" "Well, no, I'm not." Yeah! He was still shopping at the singles meat market. "I would like to leave a few minutes early today. I have some plans after work," he stated matter-of-factly. With who? A woman. A beautiful woman with large... Stop it. Don't assume, just ask. You have absolutely no dignity left anyway. "Of course you can leave early. Um, do your plans involve just you or someone else?" "Well boss, that is private information I don't have to answer. Unless, of course, it will cost me my job. But in that case, I must warn you I will be contacting my lawyer." Jillian jumped to her feet. "No, I'm sorry I asked. Excuse me. Yes, you may leave early, I was just-"

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"I'm kidding." Garrett interrupted. "I need to help my friend with his house—the one I took you to. He has marble samples coming in from Italy and needs a second opinion on a pattern." Breathe. Tell him how you feel but slowly work it into the conversation. Like someone cool would do. "Is your friend excited?" She inhaled slowly, exhaling forcefully with her lips in a taut O. Her cheeks puffed in what had to look like a blowfish. So attractive Jillian. "Excited?" "About the renovations on his mega palace he calls a ‘home.’" It was hard to keep up mundane conversation when she had pressing news to discuss. "I think he's very pleased with the blueprints. But it's big and he'll live alone, so I guess he might be a little lonely, too." "How sad for him." She didn't want to end up alone in her tiny palace she called home. Tell him how you feel, right now! Garrett covered the top of the broom with his hands. "Would you like to see the progress? We never did make it inside. And I really wanted to show the staircase. It's turn of the century and the reason why I persuaded my friend to buy the house." Was he asking her on a date? Did he want to spend time together, alone? Was he wanting to say he loved her again, get married, and live happily-ever-after? "Yes! Oh yes, Garrett! I would love to see it." She shouted with enough force to feel like a complete idiot. "Great." Garrett chuckled. "I'll see when he can accommodate us." Grasping at composure, she straightened her shirt. "Wonderful." Okay, so she didn't know how to broach the love subject while standing in her shop. A romantic dinner would be the perfect "I love you, too" setting. After selecting tile with his friend, he’d need dinner. Yes, that was good. "Would you like to come over and have dinner with me tonight?"

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Chicken, shrimp, steak, or you lying naked on the dining room table?" Erin twirled a stick of red licorice in her mouth. "I'm going to have tonight's meal catered by the McGuinness Hotel restaurant. I know this sounds cheap, but maybe since I work for them, they'll give me a discount." Jillian selected a daisy pen from the flower pot on her shop's counter. "What are you going to wear? Might I suggest as little as possible?" Jillian began sketching a heart on her need-to-buy-for-tonight's-big-I-love-you-date list. "I want to tell a man that I have feelings for him, that I want to date him, that I love him. Wearing a barely there dress with my ta-tas hanging out is not exactly going to portray me as good girlfriend material." "Where did you learn how to get a man? Learn to Seduce Like a Nun? All men want to see are tits and ass, and they want to see as much of them as possible." "You know, you are rude, crude, and highly distasteful." Erin offered Jillian the licorice bag. "I know, but it's hard not to like me, isn't it?" "You know I love you." Jillian withdrew a stick. "I have nothing but time today, so why don't you make a list of what you envision for tonight's unveiling, and I'll take care of everything." "You would do that for me?" "It would be my pleasure. Now, have you decided exactly how you're going to tell Garrett your feelings?" Sadly, no. She could say it as nonchalant as, "Pass the salt please, and by the way I love you." But that seemed so boring. She could get kinky and ask for sex, and then shout it out in an orgasm. But that seemed too ordinary. Or she could get artsy on him and write a profound poem, but she was definitely no poet. She could seriously use a stiff shot of creativeness. "I'm still working out the details."

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"I think you should call him on the phone and just say it." Erin plucked the cordless phone from its carrier and slid it down the table. "Right now?" "No time like the present." "No, no. The first ‘I love you’ is supposed to be romantic, special, memorable." "Jillian, the precision you use absolutely drives me nuts!" "Well-" "Can't you just say what you feel when you feel it?" Erin interrupted. "Earlier today, when the heavens sang and the angels filled you with love arrows, couldn't you at that very moment have told him how you felt?" Conveying her feelings earlier today would have been so much easier on her nerves. And she wouldn't have almost depleted the bottle of antacid in an attempt to stabilize the queasiness churning wildly in her stomach. Was she doing the right thing? Was it too soon? Would he break her heart like all the others? Doubt slowly crept through her entire body, leaving her stomach uncontrollably nauseous. "I'm going to be sick." Erin raced around the counter, and shielded Jillian's mouth. "Don't hurl before I can get a trash can." She shoved Jillian on a stool then grabbed a waste basket from underneath the counter. She forced Jillian's head between her knees and positioned the basket accordingly. Jillian slid from the stool and landed on her rear, then moaned. "You know this is completely ridiculous. Making yourself this sick over a man. You need to tell Garrett your feelings right now." Jillian swiped the hair from her eyes. "I'm not ready." "Then walk away. This isn't good for you." "I don't want to walk away from him." "Then practice. Say, I love you Garrett, ten times, in a row." I love you Garrett. I love you Garrett. "I can't hear you," Erin said. Jillian glanced up. "I'm saying it."

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"Lord, Jillian, I meant out loud." Erin rolled her eyes. "Telling Garrett you love him will only result in good things for both of you. First, he's going to say ‘I love you’ back. Then, you'll date for another millisecond before he pops the big question. Next, you'll get married by the end of the summer. By fall, you'll be bored and miserable like all the rest of the married women." "And somehow that speech doesn't leave me feeling any better." "I'm kidding. When you find the right guy, which you have, it'll be wonderful being married. He's superb and treats you with the utmost respect and dignity. He's poor, but you'll have happiness and honesty. He's a keeper, girlfriend, take my word on that." Garrett was a keeper. And he was wonderful. She even felt that zing she’d lacked with Kent. The “it” people refer to when they declare, "You'll know it when it's right. She needed to tell him how she felt and how much he meant to her. Now. Erin was right. Jillian couldn't wait until tonight. Not without severely reducing the state's antacid supply. Maybe she should go to the mansion, interrupt his marble selecting, and sweep him off his feet like in the movies. The brrring from the phone broke her reverie. Erin handed the phone to Jillian, she cleared her throat. "Jillian's Petals." "Hello, this is Mandy Tagger from the McGuinness Hotel. We have a VIP arriving in an hour who has made a special request. The VIP wants a large arrangement of white lilies for her suite." A sign. She needed to leave the shop anyway. While out, she would go to him and confess her feelings. "I can be there in a half an hour." "Perfect." **** Garrett's mood had shifted from really pissed off to if looked at him the wrong way, he'd take you down. The hotel staff must have sensed it, too, because no one uttered even one word to him all morning. His only solace was the punching bag that he'd been pounding for a better part of an hour.

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How could he have been so stupid? It was time to tell her the truth. Tonight he would come clean and tonight he would lose her. Punch. He deserved to get hurt. The only problem was she'd also get hurt in the process. And that would tear him up. Punch. If only he could think of some small thing that would allow her to see just how much he cared, how much he truly wanted and needed her. He'd do anything at this point. Whatever it took to win her heart again… as if he ever held her heart. She still hadn't actually confessed diddly squat. Un-freaking-believable. All this stress for a woman who may or may not even have feelings for him. "Yo." His brother's voice echoed off the white walls of the hotel's gym. "I thought we were picking out stuff for your house today?" Punch. "Instead something pissed you off?" Punch. "Let me guess. You want to tell Jillian the truth?" Punch. "And you know she'll never want to talk to you again." Punch, Punch, Punch! Garrett ripped off his boxing gloves and guzzled down half a bottle of water. "I can't decide if I'm madder that I screwed this up or that I can't do anything to fix it. It's like watching the zebra run from the lion on those nature shows. You want the zebra to outrun the lion, but you just know that's never going to happen, and there's nothing you can do to stop it." "So, you're going to just give up?" What choice did he have? He'd pitch his case tonight at dinner, pull out all of the I'msuch-a-jerk cards. I’ll never lie to you again. If you walk away, I'll never recover. But in the end, she'd leave him. And rightly so. If the roles were reversed, he wouldn't stick around to get serving number two at the lie feast from her. So he couldn't expect any less in return.

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Even if, through divine intervention, she forgave him and they moved past all this, she would forever question his word. Damn. "You know, you can always do something to fix a problem when a woman is involved." With the toe of his wingtip, Wyatt lifted a five pound weight. "I've thought of damn near every scenario I can, so if you've got a plan, hit me with it." "Anything can be solved with flowers and diamonds. There are no hidden tricks, no analyzing, just simple logistics." "I would've agreed with you before I met Jillian. She owns a flower shop, so bouquets are no big deal. And sparkly trinkets don't seem to impress her. She thinks I have no car, no money, and barely a job, yet she likes me. Expensive gifts will get me nowhere with that woman." Wyatt shrugged. "Well, I don't know how to help you then." "That makes two of us." "I'll pick you up some diamond earrings or a bracelet, just in case." "Don't bother." Garrett closed his eyes and tried to imagine life without Jillian. Not a pleasant picture. Never had he been so filled with guilt, remorse, and sorrow. Damn, he was a complete ass of a guy. "Mr. McGuinness." One of his many administrative assistants breezed into the gym. Man, what was her name? He'd never felt so off his game before. "Yes." "Sir. The Lovehearts have arrived." "Give me ten. I need to shower and change. Wyatt-" "I'll take care of her." Wyatt straightened his cobalt tie. "Meet you in her suite. She has her husband and children with her, so try to behave." Garrett swiped a towel from the towel cart. "I'm not interested in Stephanie Loveheart. I've met someone—someone very special. And for the first time in my life, I don't want to screw it up." Wyatt exited the gym before Garrett could launch into a barrage of questions. **** Excitement reverberated off every corner of Jillian's automobile. She had her radio cranked. Music blared as she belted out the lyrics to “Don’t Just Love Me Tonight.” No way

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could “He's left me for a willow tree” be the actual words, but it's how she'd been singing the refrain since ’88, so there was no changing it now. Besides, she was the only one in the car. So who cared? She'd completed her romantic dinner wish list, created a decent arrangement for the VIP—though not her finest work—sent the list, a credit card, and Erin off to the store, and managed to slap some make-up on her face. But if her plans worked out—and gosh, she hoped they would—then all the racing around would pay off in a very big way. She chewed on a fingernail. How would Garrett take the “I love you” news? Her heart skipped a beat. Hopefully, after she confessed her feelings over a very romantic dinner for two, they could enjoy dessert in the bedroom. And with any luck, she'd start tomorrow off by waking up nestled in his embrace. As she pulled into the parking garage at the McGuinness Hotel, her heart skipped another beat. Hopefully she'd make it inside and not have a heart attack right there on level three. She leapt from her car and forgot the keys. Jillian, you need to chill out. *** The nineteenth-century rich mahogany sleigh bed that contained four jumping children had been expertly carved and exceptionally crafted, leaving no doubt the bed could withstand the beating. As noisy and boisterous as the Loveheart crew seemed, to Garrett the scene was like a typical day from his youth. Growing up in a family with four brothers meant never experiencing a moment of silence. Until the move to Florida, he'd watched families check in and out of his father's hotels without so much as a thought. But lately, watching the kids pulled on his heartstrings. Garrett was ready to take the plunge. He wanted to trade in his bachelor status for a busier way of life. A silly laugh in the corner of the spacious room caught his attention. Stephanie Loveheart. Stephanie giggled wildly, and touched Wyatt as much as possible. Stephanie's husband Stan quietly read the newspaper on the bed as the couple's children merrily bounced around him. Apparently Stan didn't mind the flirting.

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Wyatt could have stripped Stephanie down to bra and panties and had his way with her in one of the arm chairs that flanked the bed. Stan would continue flipping to the next page without so much as a raised eyebrow. Ah, the epitome of a Hollywood relationship. Who was he kidding? It was the embodiment of most of his friends’ relationships. Which was why Wyatt’s actions were odd. He seemed completely uninterested and his usually game face was missing. He even seemed repulsed by Stephanie’s open flirting. Odd. Had he really found someone who could keep him occupied? "McGuinness, finally a suite that isn't modeled for a female." Stan noted without casting his gaze off the daily headlines. "Yeah, I get tired of feminine décor myself." Garrett shot back to the man. Stephanie swayed her hips as she sashayed to Garrett's side. "The suite, the hotel. It's all just so lovely." She looped her dainty arm through his. "I've signed up for a day at the spa tomorrow. Stan's taking the children for a morning horseback ride and then he's taking them all camping tomorrow night." Stephanie winked seductively at Wyatt and then Garrett. "Stand down, Stephanie. Or at least wait until I leave the room." Stan lifted his gaze and didn't miss a beat. "Is your hotel everything you envision it to be?" Stephanie's mild mannered director husband wasn't as oblivious to his surroundings as one might have first thought. Garrett carefully unhooked Stephanie's arm from his. "I'm very pleased with the results." "Good. Glad to hear it. Kids, we're going swimming." Stan shepherded four amped-up kids towards the suite's double doors. "I'll go with you," Wyatt announced. Stan and Stephanie watched wide-eyed as Wyatt gathered a child under each arm and raced for the door. "What's gotten into him?" Stephanie questioned. "He's been bitten." Garrett smiled. **** Jillian barely made it to the receptionist desk without tumbling over. The arrangement was much heavier than she'd realized.

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"Hi, I'm from Jillian's Petals. I'm here with the requested arrangement." Jillian set the flowers on the counter with a thud. "Let me see. They need to go up to the President Suite. It's on the tenth floor. Room ten forty-six." What? Where the heck was her strong man when she needed him? The thought of Garrett sent her stomach swirling. If she didn’t see him soon she might pop from all the nervous energy zipping around inside her. Were her feet even still on the ground? "You'll need this." The receptionist slid a keycard across the counter. "Just drop the flowers on the night stand in the bedroom. The guests haven't checked in yet." Jillian nodded. "And you didn't hear this from me, but you're taking those flowers to Stan and Stephanie Loveheart's room." Her voice lowered. "The director and the actress?" Jillian answered in a mad rush of words. "The very ones." Garrett was going to flip out when she told him who he might run into while delivering these. Gosh, if she'd known who she was making the flowers for she would've put more effort into the arrangement, and a little less into her make-up. The suite couldn't be missed so she unlocked the door and moseyed into Stephanie and Stan Loveheart's soon-to-be room. She suddenly stopped. Had she heard voices? "Hello? Anyone in here?" No one answered her but the voices grew louder, as if the speakers were moving closer. She was about to call out again when one of the husky tones reminded her of Garrett. As the talking became almost crystal clear, she realized it was unquestionably him. He must have had to run back to the hotel to fulfill an order. "I don't know who has stolen Wyatt's heart, but he doesn’t seem to want it back," Garrett said. "Don't you go giving away your heart, Garrett McGuinness. I need a male stud while I'm in Florida. I'm used to some magic while in the bed of a McGuinness man. I know you won't disappoint me," a woman's sultry voice purred. McGuinness?

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Garrett McGuinness? Garrett's reply to the woman was lost in a loud crash as flowers and glass shattered on the hard floor around Jillian's feet.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

Her Garrett owned the McGuinness Hotel? But his last name was Guinness, like the beer. So, why would he give her a fake last name? Could Jillian have misunderstood? No. She'd heard him correctly. "Jillian?" A muffled voice called from far away. The woman he stood beside looked an awful lot like Stephanie Loveheart. Did Stephanie Loveheart say something about getting in bed with Garrett? Had Garrett been intimate with her? One half of "Hollywood's hottest, happiest couple"? No way! "Jillian." Again the muffled voice echoed. Jillian searched for Garrett and found him squatting at her feet collecting broken glass. "Sweetheart, don't move. You have broken glass in your sandals and you're bleeding. Steph, call housekeeping." This was all wrong.

Garrett was merely rehearsing a scene from an upcoming movie

with Stephanie. He was helping her prepare for a new role. He certainly didn't own the billion dollar McGuinness hotel chain. What the heck was going on? Garrett worked for Jillian. He was a delivery man. And before that he was unemployed. Not a wealthy hotel owner. He'd left the shop that very afternoon in faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt. If she looked down now, he would still be wearing those same hugging-his-thighs-in-allthe-right-places sexy jeans and a t-shirt. "Whose suit are you wearing? It's… so… GQ. And GQ is not something you can afford." "Honey," Stephanie laughed as she reentered the room. "Garrett can afford to buy the entire company that sells that mouth-watering suit if he wanted to. The man is beyond rich."

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"Steph, call my assistant and have her bring my personal doctor. Jillian has some cuts on her feet that may need stitches." Stephanie Loveheart, the Oscar-winning movie star, took orders from her Garrett and picked up the receiver. Had she gone through a trap door and entered a parallel universe? Jillian clutched Garrett's shoulder. "What's going on?" "I think you might be going into shock. You've lost a bit of blood and you're stark white. You need to lie down." As they crossed the floor, the phone rang. "Answer that." Garrett's stature had changed. He was no longer her delivery man. His air was that of a commander, ordering his fleet about. His neck held the same woodsy cologne smell that had left her in a pool of mush the first time she'd smelled the fragrance. So it was clearly still him. But he had changed. Stephanie joined them in the bedroom and dropped her hand onto Garrett's forearm. "Your doctor is boarding the helicopter now and will be landing at the hotel in twenty minutes." Stephanie, the movie star, and Garrett, her delivery guy, were awful friendly for "we just met" and "we're practicing lines together." Something was not right here. And what was up with the sudden urgency for a doctor? She took a quick peek. Blood oozed through her toes and covered the tops and the sides of her feet. Shards of glass glistened in the beams of light that surged through the windows. Surprisingly though, she still felt no pain. Garrett withdrew his arms from his suit jacket and wrapped her legs in the soft material. "Good lord, Garrett, I could have gotten some towels. You've ruined that jacket for sure." Stephanie scolded him like a schoolmarm. "How are you feeling, Jillian?" Garrett's voice was like a slow, lazy dream. Numbness filled her and she was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. A little voice continued to scream something was terribly amiss with this situation. But she found it hard to concentrate. Focus. Focus.

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Jillian locked Garrett in her sights. "Stephanie Loveheart called you Garrett McGuinness. McGuinness, as in the name of this hotel. The name of luxury hotels across the globe, for that matter. Why would she call you that?" "I can explain." Garrett continued to dry wash her feet with his jacket. "She also implied you two were intimate. She's not your girlfriend, is she?" "No, sweetheart, no. Now just lay back and relax until the doctor gets here." When had the room filled with employees, all dressed in the hotel signature color of royal blue? Simultaneously pillows were being fluffed behind her, she was moved to the edge of the bed, and her feet were submerged into tepid pails of water. Then Stephanie Loveheart covered her forehead with a cool cloth. She could have closed her eyes and slept for hours, but something was just not right with this situation. She watched as blood swirled around and began to tint the otherwise colorless liquid. Her stomach grew instantly queasy. "Lie back, and don't watch. Where the hell is the doct—" "Not until you answer my questions." She fought for air as her world began to fade. "Are you and Stephanie Loveheart sleeping together?" "No." Garrett shook his head. "Until a few minutes ago, I thought I was seeing Wyatt—Garrett's brother," Stephanie began. "But apparently Wyatt's flipped out over some girl. I've never known him to say no to me before. Garrett, on the other hand… Well, I've been trying to get with him for years." "Steph, you're really not helping here." A glazed look of despair began to spread over Garrett's face. **** "For what it's worth Jillian, I'm so sorry. I've wanted to tell you for so long now." Garrett could hardly stand watching her, watching him, with those round, innocent, green eyes. Jillian shivered with chill and fatigue. "Tell me what?" Methodically he continued to wash the shards of glass from her lacerated feet. "My name is Garrett McGuinness."

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In some twisted way, the truth felt rejuvenating. "I do, in fact, own and run this hotel. We've divided the business into zones, and I run the Southeast. I'm going to live here, in Magnolia Springs, and run my zone from this locale." Jillian sat speechless so he continued, "You've been to my home. Only I told you the house was my friend's." "The mansion where you are supposed to be picking out marble?" Her face was pale and pinched. "I was leaving now to go over there." "But you told me you needed a job because you were unemployed. You also led me to believe you lived in such a bad spot that you were embarrassed to bring me home. Why would you say those things?" "I lied about my job status, so I could work for you and be near you everyday." Jillian shook her head, as a teardrop fell from her eyelid. Blood pounded in his temples, as misery rippled down is spine. He ground his teeth and clenched his hands. Glass he’d extracted from her feet cut his palms. "The fancy boat we were on. It's yours too, isn't it?" Shadows settled in the pockets under Jillian's eyes. Garrett nodded in slow motion. "The Do Not Disturb is also mine." "At least I get the name now." Garrett closed his eyes. It killed him to watch her register the news. Was there anything he could say or do to help her understand? "So, when the hotel's manager called and gave me the job with the bonus money that was all your doing?" "Yes. I had my brother make the call. But I had him do it so you could get out from underneath the burden of Kent. I would have done anything to help you." "Help me? You think you helped me by making me look like a fool? God, I must have looked so pathetic. You and your brother must have gotten a great deal of enjoyment from me." Jillian rose to her feet, wincing from the pain. Garrett jumped to her side and offered his hand, but she refused him. "My brother told me I was an idiot for lying to you. And no one thinks you’re a fool. Everyone thinks I'm the damn fool for jeopardizing my chances with you."

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"Where are my shoes?" Jillian staggered on tender toes to the door. "Wyatt, my brother, who's been running the hotel for me—" "Shut up. Just shut up, and stay away from me." Jillian hobbled onto the elevator, footprints of blood marking her path. "Just let the doctor look at you before you go. Please." "I don't want anything that remotely has anything to do with you, or this hotel, ever infecting my life again. Take your money, your boat, your home, and have a nice life." Jillian slouched against the metal bar in the elevator. Garrett stepped inside. "Please let me help you. The doctor will be here any minute. I won't even stay in the room. I know you hate me. I don't blame you. Just let him look at you." "Get out!" He touched her face tenderly, rubbing his thumbs on her cheeks. "I never lied to you about my feelings." Then he did the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. He stepped away and allowed the elevator doors to close. Immediately, he dialed his brother's cell. "Jillian's coming down to the lobby via elevator. Don't let her leave." "That's not going to be a problem. The elevator stopped on the ninth floor. She’s here, and she’s passed out. You really have a way with the ladies, don't you?" And he didn't think he could actually feel any worse. "Is Peter here, yet?" "Your chopper just landed. He's on the roof." **** The top of Jillian's mouth was stuck to her tongue, or maybe it was the other way around. Her eyelids felt like heavy bricks as she slowly peeled them open. The shimmer and shine of Mylar balloons caught her attention first, then she glanced further around her bedroom. Gorgeous floral arrangements sprinkled the floor. Pinks, purples, yellows, and greens swirled together like a Monet painting. Was it her birthday? The day's crazy activities slowly trickled into her mind. The vase. The glass. Cut feet. Garrett's lies. She clamped her lips to imprison a sob.

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"Gooooood morning." A very cheery Erin bee-bopped into Jillian's bedroom. What? She cleared the lump from her throat. "Good morning?" "That's correct, sleepy head. You've spent a whole day under the sheets and you've missed the entire circus. You are not going to believe when I tell you who's been here. To your apartment. And you slept through it!" "Who?" "None other than Stephanie and Stan Loveheart! That's right! You heard me correctly. And check out the flowers she brought." Erin gestured to the largest bouquet in the room. "Your boyfriend," Erin continued speaking, at a hundred miles an hour, "is like wildly popular with his friends. And the man has friends everywhere. They're famous, and they all know about you and your cut feet." "Lovely." Jillian struggled to sit up. "Well, whatever gets a girl flowers. Can you really complain?" What was Erin's problem? Of course, she hadn't been privy to the lies Garrett had told. How could she have known? Just wait until Erin found out the truth. Boy, she wasn't one to hold back her anger when provoked. "Check out the bling on your wrist." Was Erin actually twirling around the room? Jillian lifted her arm and immediately noticed a significant weight. "Sweet Jesus." "I know." Never in her life, had she seen something sparkle so powerfully. "What is this?" "It’s a fifteen-carat diamond tennis bracelet and it yours. To keep." Holy... "From Garrett?" "No. His brother, Wyatt." "What?" "Don't ask me, all I know is, Wyatt came in the bedroom and when he left, it was dangling from your wrist. And guess what? He bought me one, too!" Erin twisted her wrist, sending tiny prisms dancing around the room. What in the world would posses a man she didn't even know to give her and Erin obnoxiously expensive pieces of jewelry? Unless, of course it was bribery for his brother. The burn of bile rose to her throat.

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"Can I get you some coffee?" Erin asked. "You have a ton of flavors now. How about some food? There's everything from chocolate chip pancakes to sausage and goat cheese pizza. Garrett has had your favorite foods delivered continuously since the minute you arrived home. And he's got a chef out there making custom omelets. “He’s so wonderful. Though, I'm kind of partial since he's my boy-toy’s brother.” "Stop, Erin. I don't want anything from that man ever again. Help me take this peaceoffering off my wrist. And what are you talking about? Your mystery man is Garrett's brother?" "Keep the bracelet on, you're going to want to look pretty. Garrett's flown a plastic surgeon in from Germany to look at your feet." The covers flew off Jillian's body as if blown by a Category 5 hurricane. "What is wrong with my feet that they need the attention of a plastic surgeon?" "Nothing, absolutely nothing. That's the cutest part. Garrett's doctor gave you a stitch here and there. But Garrett doesn't want you to have any visible scars." Jillian couldn't hide her annoyance. "I don't want a specialist coming to my house. I don't want this bracelet. I don't want food, a chef, or coffee either. And I don't want to talk about Garrett G-McGuinness ever, ever again." "The man has it so bad for you. It'd be a shame if we couldn't talk about him." "He lied to me!" "So what? He's rich, powerful and in La-La-Land love with you." Why couldn't Erin see what a creep he'd turned out to be? How could she possibly want to maintain any form of a relationship with him? Had Jillian lost the loyalty of her best friend? "I can't forgive him for the all the dishonesty. I can't. I won't." With a springy bounce, Erin hopped on the bed. "I was very upset with him, too, after he confessed his true identity. But he explained his past and why he lied to you. Not that I condone his actions, mind you, but I've forgiven him. And hopefully you will too. Wyatt, that's my boytoy, he didn't tell me he was Garrett's brother. Though I can forgive him because he says he'll make it up to me on the plane ride to Honolulu." Erin giggled. "I'm glad you can make light about this situation, but I can't. Everything Garrett has told me has been based around ugly lies." Jillian stated. "Hear him out. You'll change your mind."

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"What reason could he have possibly given to make you forgive him?" "You need to hear it from him." Jillian closed her eyes. "Are you as happy as you look?" "I’m so happy I could scream. I’ve had marathon sex, with a hot, rich guy. I’ve had meaningful in-depth conversations, and we have laughed until I wet myself." Jillian suffered a dull ache of loneliness at the thought of never seeing Garrett, the man she loved, again. "I can't just pick up the phone and call Garrett." "You don't have to call him. He hasn't left your apartment. For that matter, he hasn't left your side. Nor has the man slept since he brought you home yesterday, not even a wink. He watched you sleep all night long." Jillian let her gaze dart around the room. "Where is he, then?" "As you were waking up, he stepped out to give you some space. He didn't want to upset you. But sweetie, he's good people. Actually he's very good people. Not to mention damn rich people." "I don't care how rich he is." "He knows that and adores you for it." Her bedroom door swung open and a man resembling Garrett stepped in. "Baby, the doctor's here for Jill." He winked at Erin, then turned to Jillian. "Nice to finally meet you." Erin sprang from the bed and jumped into her his arms. After a smacking kiss, he threw Erin over his shoulder in a fireman's hold, spanked her rear, and carried her from the bedroom. She waved and blew Jillian air kisses as she exited. What the hell was happening here? The doctor took his time examining her feet. Jillian pondered scenario after scenario as to what could possibly be a good enough reason for Garrett to lie to her. Nothing sprang to mind. Was she the only girl left who thought lying about your name, occupation, and wealth was immoral? Apparently. She could, and would, persuade herself to stop thinking about those cornflower blue eyes, and all that spiky, black hair.

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As a matter of fact, she already had. On the other hand, could hearing his explanation make her understand his actions and forgive him like Erin had? She shook her head to ward off the moment of insanity. If she'd learned one thing from her miserable courtship with Kent, it had been to be leery of men who didn't know a truth from a lie. Even the charming ones, who were great in bed and helicoptered in their private physicians. And ones who, in a blink, had wormed their way deep into her heart. Erin strolled in the bedroom as the doctor left. The smell of bacon and eggs permeated the tiny room. She closed the door, and Jillian caught a glimpse of Garrett on her couch, using her remote, watching her TV. "Does he plan on moving in?" Jillian questioned. "He's not leaving until you talk to him." "Fine. Send him in. The sooner we talk, the sooner he'll leave." Her voice broke slightly. "I'm not letting you talk to him with all that anger still in you. You may have forgotten, but I haven't. You love him. Remember those feelings?" Ah yes. Had yesterday gone as planned, today would have turned out much differently. How soon she forgot about the “I love you” speech. His loss. A tear formed in the corner of her eye as another one rolled down her cheek. Okay, her loss, too. But no one, especially Garrett, needed to know that. "You have been like a sister to me," Erin began, "and I've watched boys come in and out of your life. You broke some hearts and you had yours broken. But this man, he's the real deal. He worships you passionately, and I really think if you just listened to him, and decided to forgive him, you could have the greatest relationship of anyone I know. You two were made for one another, and I think down deep in your heart you know that's the truth, too." Jillian watched her friend chug orange juice, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, and lick away an orange mustache. Wyatt would have a hard time taming her. Then again, maybe he liked her just the way she was. "I'm going to go inhale a huge piece of chocolate covered cheesecake now. Can I bring you a slice?" Erin squeezed Jillian’s hand.

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"Cheesecake won't tempt her, but maybe this bowl of rocky road will?" A deep, sensual voice from the door sent a ripple of stimulation through her body, reminiscent of the first day she'd embarrassed herself in his presences by ordering condoms.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jillian looked so tiny nestled in the large bed. Her rich, nutmeg hair flowed past her shoulders as soft graceful curls framed her heartshaped face. Her make-up, which she didn't need to wear anyway, had long since worn off, leaving her looking innocent, vulnerable, and overwhelmingly beautiful. There were so many qualities to love about that girl but he especially loved her versatile personality. She could be as playful as a teenager or as composed as an intelligent woman and every enchanting personality in between. Anxiety spurted through him with every silent moment that ticked by. Was she going to ask him to leave? "You spent the night? You couldn't have been comfortable in that chair." Jillian pointed to the cause of his kinked neck and sore muscles. "It was more comfortable than my empty bed." It had taken complete self-control not to crawl into her bed and wrap himself tightly around her. Her face softened. "Sit down if you were serious about that ice cream." She nodded at the end of her bed. "I would never lie about ice cream." Dammit. Way to bring up a sore subject. Jillian lowered her lashes. "Not funny." "Sorry, I'm nervous." Where should he begin? He blew out a long breath of air. I know I'm a jackass and a jerk-wad. I know you hate me, but… Hit me, hard, and let's start over. Or… "I'm terribly sorry about everything and all the hurt I've caused. I didn't set out to deceive you, but I made some very bad calls. I'd like to explain the situation, if you'll let me." The words literally fell from his lips.

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Jillian set the bowl on the nightstand and drew her knees to her chin. She wrapped her arms tightly around her legs, and watched him through inscrutable eyes. This would be the one and only shot he'd have to win her. He needed to try his damnedest to weasel into her heart and gain forgiveness. "Ever since I moved to Florida, my life has been different." Garrett nervously repositioned himself on the bed. "For the first time, no one knew me. I could be myself, and act however I wanted to act. It was refreshing and exciting." He rubbed his head. "I've spent my entire life living in a glass bowl with people wanting to be my friend or my lover, but only because of my last name. When I met you, I wanted to see if I could just be a normal guy. Then when you thought I had nothing, I didn't correct you. The amazing part was you still wanted to hang around me. You were a more genuine person than I ever expected anyone could be." He cleared his throat. "I felt for the first time that someone liked me just for me." For a long moment, she looked back at him. "Why would you think that if I knew your real name I would treat you differently?" "Because everyone has my entire life. Most women don't care about me. They just want the money, the lifestyle. I've been burned too many times. Some ladies don't even mind which of the McGuinness brothers they conquer, as long as they land one of us. It's become a game. And now it's impossible to know if you're liked for who you are." "I see." She nodded her head. "I don't expect you to understand. And I don't expect you to forgive me. But Jillian, if you do, I promise I'll never hurt you again. I know you don't believe this, but I'm a very honest person, and I run my business and my life in that manner. I've wanted to tell you a hundred times who I am, but I've been afraid I'd lose you if I did." "Were you ever going to come clean?" "Last night, when we were supposed to have dinner, I had planned on confessing everything." "Really?" "It's true. I dreaded telling you the truth because I knew you'd be upset and not want to see me again."

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"I didn't mind that you had no car, were jobless, or poor. Why didn't you tell me the truth then?" "I should have. I have no excuses. I've really made some bad choices. I just hope you can forgive me and we can start over." Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her pajamas. "I had planned on making some confessions at dinner, too." "Your name is Jillian O'Connelly and you're married with three kids and a dog?" She chuckled, the sound purely triumphant. "No, no. No husband, no kids, no dogs. I had planned on telling you how much you meant to me and that I was in love with you." Bump-bump Bump-bump His heart beat hard and loud as it slammed into his chest. "You'd planned on telling me. Do you still want to tell me?" "Whoa. I haven't even decided if I should forgive you." "I vote you forgive me, and then you tell me how much you love me. I've been dying to tell you again. You have my heart and always will, whether you want it or not."

For many silent moments, Jillian watched Garrett's eyes. His brilliant, intelligent, compelling eyes. How could she ever walk away from this man? She'd ring his gorgeous neck if he lied to her again, but hopefully he was telling the truth and this had been a one-time mistake. She'd even been sold on the reason behind the lies. So, was she being naïve? Stupid? Her little voice said no. All the men in her life had lied to get away from her, but Garrett had lied to get close to her. Her heart felt twenty pounds heavier with the love for him that had grown there, and she always trusted her heart. He was a keeper. Even through the lies, his heart was still high-quality. And she truly felt he loved her, would protect her, and be faithful. An all-around wonderful man. Her all-around wonderful man.

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She pushed back the hair that had fallen over her eyes and caught a glitter from the bracelet dangling from her wrist. "Why in the world did your brother give me this?" There were touches of humor around his mouth and near the corners of his eyes. "Wyatt believes women will forgive anything if given the right accessories. I told him it was a bad idea, but I needed all the help I could get. So, if a diamond bracelet could win me back my girl, I'm okay with that." "But it was from your brother." "He used my account." She twisted her wrist and watched the jewels sparkle. "Are they real?" Finally the warm glow returned to his face. "They’re real. I saw the receipt. Are you telling me Wyatt was right about the jewelry?" "It certainly hasn't hurt your case." Garrett's rich laugh rippled through the air. "So this is what I've been doing wrong all these years?" She'd missed this. The joking, the laughing. She couldn't possibly imagine living life without him. She loved him and that was all that really mattered. She wanted him out of the room so she could prepare a little surprise of sorts. In the very least, she wanted to run a brush through her bed head. "I'm a little hungry. Could make me a sandwich?" Garrett jumped to his feet like a private snapping to attention when a five star general walks in the room. "Okay, we have baloney, salami, turkey, roast beef, chicken-" "Turkey will be fine." "Cheese?" "Sure" "Cheddar, American, provolone, muenster, Swiss—" "Surprise me." "Lettuce?" "Okay." "Mayo?" "Yes." "Mustard?"

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Jeez. "Please." "Tomato?" "Why not?" "Pickle?" "Garrett." "Jillian." "Just make me any kind of sandwich you want, okay. I trust you." "Do you want a drink?" She nodded, afraid she'd bust into giggles if she answered him. After listing every drink in her refrigerator plus all the coffees and juices he had sent over, she settled on water, secretly hoping she was making Garrett as crazy as he was making her. It's not every day a girl gets to say those three magical words for the first time. She needed time to primp. After he finally left, she slowly swung her legs off the bed. She'd fill the bathtub with bubbles and light some candles, he'd walk in, and she'd ask him to join her. What a perfect way to surprise him. She lowered her feet to the floor and began to ease her weight on them when Garrett flung open the bedroom door. "Chips or potato sal—-. What are you doing?" Pain tingled through her feet, and raced up her legs. "I was going to draw a bath and even light candles, but now, I'm having second thoughts." He helped her back onto the bed. "Wait here." Garrett bolted out of the room, and the bath water began to run. A match lit and the smell of German chocolate cake permeated her bedroom. Garrett whisked back to her side. "Your bathroom smells like a bakery." "I know. But isn't it great?" "I'm not complaining. Are you ready? I'll carry you in." Here goes nothing Jillian, tell the man you love him or forever wish you had. "I am more than ready." "You’re a little overdressed."

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Jillian looked down at her nightgown. "True." She freed herself from the floral, cotton material, then thought to include him. "Could you remove my panties?" Garrett's eyes smoldered ablaze. "I thought you might never ask me that question again." He took his sweet time, removing her undergarment. Then scooped her into his arms and walked toward the bath. She'd forgotten how devastatingly handsome with dripping sex appeal he was. "You know, I had planned for this to be a bath for two." Garrett stopped short and locked his gaze to hers. "Does this mean you and I aren’t over?" "I sure hope not. I'd hate for you to break my heart right before I tell you how much I love and adore you." Garrett remained silent. When he reached the tub, he placed her ever so gently in the steamy water, letting her feet dangle over the dry side. He tore off his clothes faster than she'd ever seen a person undress, and dropped into the tub behind her. Garrett kissed her head and wrapped his arms around her. "Marry me so I can breathe again." "Okay, but as your wife, I'll need to renegotiate my contract with McGuinness Hotel. My delivery man and I need to reserve a private room in case we need a quickie while on the job." Crushing her to him, he whispered into her ear, "As your delivery man, I think we need to negotiate with your husband to have the presidential suite and a permanent ‘Do Not Disturb’ embossed on the door." Jillian giggled. "I think that sounds perfect."

THE END

About the Author Tara Greenbaum resides in North Florida with her husband, two little boys, and two dachshunds. She divides her time between wrestling with her boys and wrestling with her next plot. In her life before children, Tara was an elementary school teacher. Now as a stay-at-homemom, she's found that her love of writing and reading grants her a much needed escape from playing "jump on mommy" and crashing Hot Wheels cars.