ANightatTheCavern (9 page)

Miranda twirled the stem of her empty champagne glass
between her finger and thumb and watched the small crowd of wedding guests jump
around on the dance floor as if they were receiving electric shocks to the
feet. Was it the clothes or the venue that inspired so many people to dance as
poorly as possible? Hmmm.

Well, it wasn’t the music. No, the deejay was good, spinning
tracks that reminded her of The Cavern. In the club the dancers absorbed the
music into their soul, moving and pulsing as one with the beat as if dancing
with a lover.

Like Jorges had danced with her.

God. A week later and the mere thought of him still had the
power to make her so wet, she feared soaking through her clothes. It wasn’t
fair, especially since he was probably at the club, right that very moment,
sampling the flavor of the week. She had to stop thinking about him before she
did something stupid, like run over there and beg for any scrap of his
attention. How pathetic did that make her?

“Have I told you how pathetic I think you are?” Roxanne
flopped onto the banquet chair next to her, righting her glass before sloshing
champagne over her blue silk dress.

Was she psychic? “Several times already.”

“This
unbelievably
gorgeous man asks you out, and you
turn him down. Why? Why I ask? I’ll tell you why. Because you’re a
chickenshit.”

Yes. Yes she was.

“Roxanne, you don’t get it. I’m not— I’m not—” She couldn’t
even say it to herself.

“What? Them?” She gestured to the other bridesmaids who were
clustered around the groomsmen or admiring their reflections in the silverware.
“A fantastic-plastic? Geez, Miranda, you’re so much more interesting than they
are. You’re like Lara Croft to their Barbie. And we all know the boys jack off
to Lara more.”

“That’s a lovely image.”

“But true. Seriously, girl, you need to see that man again.
He must have had magic sperm or something because you have been glowing. I
mean, you’ve always been pretty, but ever since last weekend there’s this light
shining inside you, even though you’ve been moping around. How can you walk
away from that? I’m telling you. Pathetic.” She paused in her rant to take a sip
of champagne. “How big did you say his cock was?”

“I didn’t.” It was impossible to suppress a grin, but she
tried her damnedest. “And I’m not going to.”

“You suck. I love you, but you suck.”

“I love you too.”

Miranda mentally counted to five, knowing Roxanne was not
going to let the subject matter drop. When her friend opened her mouth to
launch another argument, Miranda cut her off. “Hey, you know what would be
great? Let’s ask the deejay if you can sing a song. I’ve got a twenty burning a
hole in my pocket.”

Roxanne crossed her arms under her breasts. “Now that’s just
mean.”

Miranda smiled and arched a brow.

“Fine. I will stop calling you names.”

“And?”

“Stop talking about the hottest guy I have ever seen in my
life. Gah, even his name is sexy. Jorges. Joooorgees. But you know,” she leaned
closer, “I’m only picking on you out of extreme jealousy that you had your
mouth all over him.”

“I never told you that.”

“Didn’t have to. That man was totally lickable.”

“Can we talk about something else? Please.”

“Sure.” The mischief that sparked in Roxanne’s eyes raised
the hair on her arms. “So. Which one of the Brooks Brothers set is your mom
trying to hook you up with?”

“Oh Lord.” She dropped her head in her hands. “All of them.”

Miranda peeked through her fingers to spy on the stuffy,
white-collar friends of her new brother-in-law. They appeared to be interested
more in showing each other their latest Smartphone than responding to the
single women buzzing around them like jet fighters trying to make a landing. As
far as eligible men went, they weren’t all bad. In fact, if she had met them
the week before, she would have blushed, stammered and probably made a complete
goober of herself. But now…

They left her colder than the ice sculpture of Cupid near
the wedding cake.

“Who do you have your eye on?”

Her head fell lower to rest upon the table. “None of them.”

“Yeah. They don’t compare at all to Mr. Tight Buns.”

“Miranda.” Her mother’s voice cracked like a whip near her
ear. “Sit up. A man doesn’t want a wife with poor posture.”

“Well I don’t want a husband who’s judging me solely on the
straightness of my spine. Actually, I don’t want a husband at all.”

“Nonsense. The only women who don’t want a husband are
lesbians.”

Roxanne sputtered, spraying Dom Pérignon all over the purple
satin table cloth.

“My God, Miranda, the people you consort with. Come with
me.”

Miranda bit back a curse as her mother pinched her under the
fleshy part of her triceps and propelled her across the room.

“I can walk, Mother.”

“Yes, but where to is another matter. I want you to meet
Jefferson. He’s a new ad exec in your father’s firm. Recently divorced, he has
moved to the city for a new start. You can be just the girl to show him around
town.”

“You don’t mean the guy with the gray hair and seventies
moustache? Mother. He’s practically your age.”

“You have to start somewhere. He’s single and successful.
That’s the important thing.”

No. It wasn’t. What about chemistry? What about attraction?
Where were the tingles that made every cell in her body warm like sitting in
the path of the sun?

This Jefferson was probably a nice fellow and all, but the
word “settled” blazed across her brain like neon. She didn’t want to settle.
She didn’t want good enough. She wanted…

Several surprised gasps and a flurry of movement caught her
attention as the crowd of dancers parted to reveal the cause of the commotion.

Him. She wanted him.

Her jaw dropped as the golden-tipped blond god stalked
toward her with panther-like grace. With his tailored black suit and starched
white button-down shirt left open at the neck to expose his tattoo, he was an
Armani ad in the flesh.

Jorges came to a stop before them. His hot gaze touched all
over her, from the top of her upswept hair to the bottom of her opened-toe
silver sandals and everywhere in between. The blue of his eyes turned to liquid
fire the longer he stared.

With each passing second her breath grew more ragged and she
felt her lips move, trying to form a word, sound, anything, but she could only
stare back, eating him up visually as if he were a bowl of cake batter ice
cream, including bits of brownie and sprinkles.

Finally a slow grin curled his lips and he held out his
hand. “May I have this dance?”

Was this a dream or had the underwire bra she wore cut off
the blood flow to her brain? John Hughes moments did not happen to her, Miranda
Caspar. Jorges was like Jake Ryan, only a thousand times sexier, a fact she
would have bet good money was not possible. But here he was, gazing down at her
as if she were the homecoming queen of his dreams.

She didn’t remember placing her hand in his, but in the next
blink, they were on the dance floor. Breast to chest, he held her with one hand
low on her back and the other clenched around her fingers and placed over his
heart as they swayed to an eighties classic.

“You look stunning, Miranda. That shade of lilac was made
for you.”

The observation broke through her shock, making her laugh.
“You are the only man I know who didn’t call this color purple.”

He laughed with her, drawing her closer. “It’s my job to
know colors.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked on a sigh. “How did you
find me?”

“Well, you said your sister was getting married today, so I
figured I’d go to every wedding venue in the city until I found you. This was
my third try.”

He searched for her?

As her mind reeled with the implication, his brow furrowed
and he pressed his forehead to hers. “As for why I’m here. That gets a bit more
complicated.”

She clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering
as nerves shook her all over.

“Miranda, this week has been a real eye opener for me on so
many levels.” His chuckle held no humor. “You have no idea what I went through
and someday I hope I can tell you everything, but it all began the night I met
you. I might have begun thinking we would have only one night between us, but
what we shared was more than just sex. At least for me it was. I had hoped it
was the same for you. And then came that Cammy girl.”

“Tammy.”

“Whoever. I know that hurt you, and I’m sorry. More than you
know.”

“It isn’t my business,” she murmured, not wanting to spend a
single second thinking about that skank.

“I want it to be your business. Your opinion matters because
you matter to me. I didn’t sleep with her, or her friend. Kissed. Yes. Groped.
Probably.”

She really didn’t need to hear that.

“But I didn’t have sex with them. I know what my reputation
is, and while it’s not completely unfounded, I want more, and I want it with
you.”

“I’m so plain,” she couldn’t help but interject. Ah! Why
couldn’t she take his compliment?

“You’re not plain. You’re genuine. You don’t need glamour
around you because your glamour lives on the inside and shines for all to see.”
He laughed again and gestured to his clothes and face. “You saw through all of
this to the heart of me. Miranda, you feed parts of me I didn’t know were
starving until you were gone and I was left dying of hunger.”

Hope fluttered in her stomach. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want a chance. I want to make you smile and go
on real dates, maybe take a trip around the world. I want to cook breakfast for
you after holding you in my arms all night long. I want to be working at my
desk and look over to see you sitting on my loveseat doing whatever the hell
you want. I want to be with you. Who knows if we’re meant to be forever, but I
want to try.” His eyes shimmered with the depth of emotions from his heart.
“Will you give me a chance?
Us
a chance?”

Temptation had never struck her so low in the belly. The
word “yes” danced on her tongue, ready to leap out of her mouth, but fear
wrangled it into submission.

With a shaking breath she admitted, “I’m scared.”

“I’m terrified.” As he raised his hand to brush back the
wisps of hair on her cheek, she saw the strong tremors in his fingers, noticing
that the shakes she thought were hers were actually Jorges’. “I’m afraid you
won’t find me worthy. That I’ve messed up before we’ve even begun.”

“I’m afraid you’ll find me boring.”

“I’m afraid you’ll find out how unexciting I really am.” He
tilted her chin up, his lips a whisper away from hers. “What do you say? Shall
we face our fears together?”

One thing she had always prided herself on was her
intelligence, and her gut was screaming at her that to walk away now would be
the stupidest thing she could ever do.

“Yes.”

A flash sparked in his eyes followed by his slow, sexy smile
that she only glimpsed for a nanosecond before he kissed her. Melting like
caramel over a low heat, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him
for purchase as her knees buckled.

The press of his palm smoothing up and down her back, as his
tongue stole inside her mouth to tickle and tease, turned her molten. And when
he ground his erection against her belly, an answering rush of moisture
gathered in her loins. Lord have mercy, she was ready for his possession.

Only when her lungs burned with fire did she pull away,
relishing the flush on his cheeks as he too struggled for breath.

Near her ear he whispered, “You undo me, Miranda. I’m
tempted to take you right here with everyone watching.”

Shivers broke out over her body at the mention of others
watching. She glanced around and gasped as she saw the shocked stares from
practically the entire wedding party, who watched their interaction as if they
were the breaking story on the evening news. Some had mouths agape while others
talked behind hands in animated whispers. In the corner Megan fumed with fists
clenched at her sides and her eyes shooting poisoned darts in their direction.

Funny. For once in Miranda’s life, she managed to upstage
Megan, and she really couldn’t care less. What she did care about was Jorges
and the need for more of his kisses. The sooner the better.

“Come with me.” She took his hand and led him out of the
crowded ballroom and down the hallway. The doorknob of the unisex bathroom turned
easily in her hand as she opened the door and pulled him inside.

A hot kiss cut off his delighted laughter, turning it into a
moan as she ran her hands over his chest. Her nails scraped across the cotton
shirt and down his sides, drawing a pain-filled hiss as he jumped away.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

His nose wrinkled on a wince. “No. I—uh. Earlier this week I
was stabbed.”

“What? Oh my God! Where?” She tugged the ends of his shirt
from his pants and pulled up to expose his stomach. An angry red line slashed
across his side, banded by black stitches over the swollen, puckered skin. “Oh
Jorges. Were you mugged?”

“No. No. There was a man after Amaryllis. He thought he
could get information out of me. I gave him enough to let me go but still keep
her safe.”

“Is she okay? Is he still out there?”

“He’s been taken care of. And Amaryllis is safe with her
husband.”

“Oh?” she questioned, striving for an indifferent tone.
Although Jorges had claimed they were only friends, knowing Amaryllis was off the
market loosened some of Miranda’s anxiety about their relationship. “I didn’t
know she was married.”

“They’ve only been married a few days. I told you, it’s been
quite a week for me. Her husband is a good man and will take good care of her.
She’s deliriously happy. But, about us.” He pulled her into the circle of his
arms. “When I was stabbed, the only thought on my mind was you. I wanted you
with me to hold my hand and run your fingers through my hair as you told me
everything was going to be all right. When I was threatened with that blade,
the idea of never seeing you again hurt worse than the cut itself.”