Catching Heat Page 13

  The altar consisted of two Roman style pillars that flanked the large picture window. Atop each pillar was a large bouquet of red roses arranged with some sort of unidentified greenery. His brother Josh was into photography so he’d brought his camera and, after taking several shots of the altar, was now positioned opposite the window at the back of the room so he could take pictures of Angie as she walked down the aisle. Despite his recent heartbreak, Josh seemed in good spirits and in honor of the occasion, had pulled his shoulder length hair into a ponytail and managed to finagle himself into a suit and tie.

  Between the altar and the doors at the back of the room were several rows of chairs covered with crisp white slipcovers. Beside each aisle chair was a lighted candle set in a deep clear glass container. It was a nice touch, as was the instrumental piano music that played softly in the background.

  The double doors were closed now, but in less than ten minutes the ceremony would begin. Very shortly, he and Angie would be husband and wife. And in about five months they’d be parents. One night had changed both of their lives forever. He only hoped to be the kind of husband and father his father was. If he could do that, he’d be ahead of the game.

  “Are you nervous?” Jake, who was standing beside him, asked.

  J.T. ran a finger under his collar. “No. Do I look nervous?” he asked looking from Jake to Matt, who’d arrived with Kelly well before he and Angie had made it to the resort. Evidently everyone had listened to the weather reports and hit the road early. Everyone except him and Angie. They’d been discussing the room situation for tonight and had lost track of time. They’d finally decided on one room with two beds, for appearances sake. On his wedding night he’d be sleeping in the same room with his wife, but not in the same bed. Something was seriously wrong with that picture.

  Matt squinted. “Is that flop sweat on your forehead?”

  J.T. wiped his brow and found it dry. He scowled as Jake laughed and Matt shot him an amused grin. “Do you have the rings?” he asked Jake.

  Jake’s eyes widened. “Rings?”

  “I gave them to you the night you came over for dinner,” he said as Jake furiously patted his jacket pockets. “Please do not tell me you forgot them.”

  “I don’t think he has them,” Matt chimed in as Jake looked up with a stricken expression on his face.

  “Son of a bitch.” J.T. kept his voice low and ran a hand through his hair. This was not the way to start off his marriage. “You’re the best man. That means you’re in charge of the rings.”

  “See. This is why I should have been the best man.” Matt smirked. “I’d never forget the rings.”

  “I had them this morning.” Jake stuck a hand in his pants pocket, then grinned. “Here they are,” he said and triumphantly held up the dark blue felt bag that held the simple white gold bands J.T. and Angie had picked out the day they’d applied for their marriage license.

  Over Matt’s shoulder, J.T. saw his mother enter the room with the minister following close behind her. “It’s time,” he said as his heart began to pound.

  “Are you sure about this?” Matt asked in a low voice.

  No. I’m not sure of anything right now, J.T. wanted to say. But instead he looked at Matt, swallowed hard and nodded.

  Matt clapped J.T.’s back with a firm hand. “Then relax, man. After winning the World Series, getting married is a breeze.”

  Easy for him to say.

  * * *

  Seated beside J.T. at the round table in the private banquet room J.T.’s parents had reserved for their reception dinner, Angie was aware of two things. The slim wedding band on her left ring finger and J.T.’s hard thigh pressed against hers. The ring signified that she was now J.T.’s wife, and the way her body hummed from the innocent touch of his leg against hers signified that fighting her attraction to him would be pretty damn difficult.

  Across from her, Kelly and Matt had their heads close together and were speaking in low tones. Anyone looking at them could see they were in love. The meaningful glances they exchanged and Matt’s proprietary arm around Kelly’s shoulders were dead giveaways. If the wait staff didn’t know any better, they’d probably assume that Matt and Kelly had been the ones who had been married today, not her and J.T.

  Married. It still didn’t seem real. But the ring on her finger was proof that it was.

  The ceremony had been a blur. Her nerves, which were already shot, had been stretched as tight as a drum when Joe Sawyer walked her down the aisle. With each step closer to J.T., who looked incredibly handsome in his dark gray suit, crisp white shirt and blue silk tie, she’d almost bolted. It was only because of the baby that she didn’t turn tail and run.

  Before she knew it the minister had pronounced them man and wife and instructed J.T. to kiss his bride. After a slight hesitation, he pressed his firm mouth against hers, but instead of a brief peck, J.T.’s lips lingered just long enough on hers to cause them to tingle, and deep in the center of her being was a hungry throb that didn’t want to be denied. Obviously her traitorous body remembered exactly what else J.T. could do with those lips of his.

  “Mom, aren’t you going to tell Angie and J.T. about your surprise?” Josh, who was sitting on Angie’s left asked as he reached for his glass of sparkling cider. Cider was also in her glass. Whoever came up with the rule that pregnant women couldn’t drink was number one on her hit list right now.

  “Surprise?” Angie looked at Sharon and then J.T., who just shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.

  “I do love a surprise,” Kelly said with a devilish grin. “Don’t you, Angie?”

  Considering the last surprise she’d been on the receiving end of was a positive sign on a pee-stick Angie was tempted to say no, but instead she just nodded.

  “Don’t keep us in suspense, Mom,” Jake said.

  “It’s nothing elaborate,” Sharon said, and beamed at them. “I took the liberty of changing your room reservation to the honeymoon suite.”

  “You did what?” J.T. went rigid in his chair as Angie’s mouth gaped open.

  “Your father and I upgraded you to the honeymoon suite.”

  Oh dear Lord, I did hear that correctly. Angie reached for her glass. It wasn’t champagne, but it would have to do. There was only one bed in the honeymoon suite. She knew this because when she’d made the reservation she’d checked the different suites available on the resort’s website.

  Angie gulped down her cider but it wasn’t strong enough to ease the tension that curled tight in her stomach. It sucked that she couldn’t drink—getting drunk seemed like an excellent way to get through the night.

  Calm the heck down, Angie. It’s only one night. You were going to spend the night with him anyway, remember? Yes, but that was in a room with two beds. That was different and somehow, much safer. Ever since that night in the kitchen she’d tried so hard to erase the image of J.T.’s amazing body out of her mind, but nothing worked. And J.T. didn’t make it easy on her. Every night after dinner, he strolled out to the hot tub in nothing but a pair of swim trunks. Not that it mattered—she’d already seen him naked and that glorious image was seared on her brain forever.

  Feeling the weight of J.T.’s gaze on her, she turned her head, met his enigmatic eyes and felt her pulse quicken. The last time they’d shared a bed they hadn’t done much sleeping. Or talking. Heat surged through her body at the memory of how uninhibited and wanton she’d been that night. How could she sleep in the same bed with J.T. with those erotic memories still so fresh in her mind? Or maybe the more important question was how in the world was she going to be able to pretend she didn’t still want him? Because she did. She wanted him badly.

  Chapter Eleven

  “So what do we do now?” Angie asked J.T. as she stood in the middle of the Montblanc’s beautiful honeymoon suite. As advertised, there was only one bed—a lovely four-poster canopy draped with ivory silk brocade that was both elegant and romantic. It was the perfect bed for amorous newlyweds to celebrate t
heir connubial blisson. And nothing said connubial bliss like hot sweaty sex. She’d hoped the suite would contain a full size sofa, but no such luck. The only other sleeping options were two green velvet wingback chairs and a matching love seat situated in front of the window that provided an even more impressive view of the mountains than the chapel had. That meant she and J.T. would be sharing the bed. Thank God it was a king-size.

  J.T. glanced at his watch. “It’s only nine o’clock. We could hit the casino for a while.”

  “I’m not a big gambler,” she said, painfully aware that any normal newly married couple wouldn’t be discussing what they were going to do for the rest of the evening. They’d already be doing it. And by it, she didn’t mean gambling.

  “It’s not my thing either.” J.T. unbuttoned his suit jacket and loosened his tie. “What I’d really like is to get out of this suit and take a shower.”

  “Then why don’t you?” Angie gestured toward the open door of the spacious bathroom behind her. “While you’re showering I’ll check out the room service menu.” She moved to the low round table in between the chairs and the love seat and picked up a leather portfolio embossed with the Montblanc logo. “I’ve been craving chocolate all day.”

  “What about the maraschino cherries?” J.T. asked with amusement as he grabbed his duffle bag from near the door and hoisted it on the bed.

  “I’d love some of those, too, but I doubt they’re on the menu.” Instead of opening the portfolio, Angie watched J.T. unzip the duffle. She tried to ignore the breadth of his shoulders beneath his fitted suit jacket but it was impossible. In clothes or out of them, he was an amazing specimen. Just looking at him made her breath come a little too fast. All of a sudden that king-size bed didn’t seem big enough.

  “No worries. I brought a jar with me.”

  “You what?” Angie’s jaw dropped as he pulled a small jar from his bag and held it up.

  “Think fast,” he said and lobbed the jar toward her. She caught it easily with one hand. “Nice catch.” A smile of admiration curved his lips. “Must be all that softball.” His gaze was riveted on her face. “I never told you this, but you pitched a helluva game that night.”

  Angie didn’t have to ask which night he was referring to. Not only did the Panthers win the championship that evening, it was also the night the baby she carried inside of her had been conceived. Heat flooded her body as she remembered how J.T. made her forget everything, and everyone, with the first touch of his lips.

  “Where’d you learn to pitch like that?”

  “My dad. He was a ballplayer.” Damn it. Why had she said that? Sharing information about her father wasn’t something she did. She’d learned a long time ago to leave the past in the past. So why did she blurt it out like that? This was a marriage of convenience, not some lifetime partnership where she bared her soul to her husband.

  J.T. cocked his head, a frown knitting his brow. “Pro ball?”

  She nodded. “He was a utility player, never one of the big guns. He played for several teams during his career.”

  “Did he play for the Blaze?”

  “No. The A’s. Before that he played for the Royals.” Angie glanced at the jar in her hand, still amazed at J.T.’s thoughtfulness. “I don’t like to talk about him,” she said quickly, hoping to avert any further discussion of her father.

  “Then we won’t.” She looked up and met J.T.’s solemn—almost tender—gaze and for some bizarre reason she wanted to run to him and throw herself into his arms. Stupid hormones. They were playing havoc with her emotions. Again. “I’m gonna hit the shower,” he said and turned to rifle through his bag.

  Angie waited until J.T. was in the shower to open her small suitcase. Since they were only staying overnight she hadn’t packed much. Just something to sleep in, and clothes and underwear for tomorrow’s trip back to Sacramento. Someone—she wasn’t sure who—had brought the clothes and shoes she and J.T. had worn earlier in the day and placed them in the closet next to the bathroom. Seeing her clothes next to J.T.’s was oddly intimate and reinforced the fact that they were now husband and wife.

  At the bottom of her suitcase she found what she was looking for—a pair of silky blue pajamas she’d never worn. They were a gift from her mother who wasn’t aware of Angie’s penchant for sleeping in the nude. Not that she’d be doing that tonight. Despite her attraction to J.T., having sex with him wasn’t in the plan. It would be much more difficult to leave him if she allowed herself get emotionally involved with him.

  Just then, her cell phone chimed. She pulled it from the pocket of her purse and read the newly arrived text from her sister.

  Sorry I wasn’t at the wedding. Mom is being a total pill. I miss u. C U at X-mas.

  Angie typed a reply to Livvie, pressed send and hoped her mother would be over her snit by Christmas. Tonight at the reception, Sharon had mentioned inviting Selena and Livvie to join the Sawyers on Christmas Eve and Angie hoped they would make the drive to Sacramento. Despite her difference of opinion with her mother, it wouldn’t be Christmas without the two most important people in her life there to share it with her.

  * * *

  Emerging from the bathroom, J.T. found Angie standing at the dresser with her slender arms lifted and her hands underneath her hair at the back of neck. She groaned as her frustrated gaze met his in the mirror. “Could you help me? I can’t seem to get the clasp of this necklace to open.”

  “Sure,” he said and walked to the closet. After hanging up his suit, he moved to stand behind her—close enough to inhale her soft feminine fragrance. A jolt of heat hit him low in his gut as she lifted her long wavy hair to reveal the creamy perfection of her neck and shoulders. God help him, but he couldn’t keep from imagining sliding his hands down her shoulders and then reaching around to cup her full breasts. Blood rushed to his ears and for a moment all he heard was the pounding of his heart.

  Steadying his breath, he worked the clasp with his fingers and tried not to be affected by the satiny skin of Angie’s nape. It wasn’t working. He was as affected as he’d been when he’d placed the chaste kiss on her lips at the end of the wedding ceremony. It had taken all the willpower he possessed not to exert more pressure and kiss her with all the pent-up sexual frustration that had been building inside him since August.

  “It’s hard, isn’t it?” Angie murmured.

  She didn’t know the half of it. His damn cock would be harder than steel in a matter of seconds if he didn’t put some distance between them. “Uh, yeah,” he said and let out a breath of relief when the clasp popped open. She let go of her hair, the long soft strands brushed over his hands as she removed the necklace and set it on the dresser. Despite his best intentions, he couldn’t move. His hand still rested on her nape and it was all he could do not to trail his fingers down the soft bare skin of her back. It was his wedding night, for Christ’s sake, and more than anything he wanted to make love to his wife. But he’d agreed to no sex and he’d keep his word. Even if it killed him.

  “I guess I’ll go shower,” she said, once again meeting his gaze in the mirror. Their eyes locked and the air around them shimmered with electricity. “I hope you left me some hot water,” she said in a husky voice, breaking the charged silence.

  That wouldn’t be a problem. Not after the cold dousing he’d just subjected himself to. He wasn’t particularly fond of ice cold showers but it had been a necessity. He’d been aroused ever since his first glimpse of her in the chapel. On his father’s arm, she’d floated toward him, a vision in white. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

  “There’s a TV in the armoire.” She turned and pointed across the room, forcing J.T. to step back. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He didn’t know which was worse, the cold shower or watching television on his wedding night. Actually, they both sucked equally hard.

  “Did you call room service?” he asked, moving toward the armoire to escape the scent of her alluring perfume. But just like at home, it f
illed the room and made him even more aware of her.

  “Not yet. I thought I’d wait until—”She broke off with a sharp gasp.

  Alarmed, J.T. turned to find her halfway to the bathroom with her hands on her stomach and a look of astonishment on her face. “What’s wrong?” Concern filled him as he quickly moved to her side. “Are you in pain?”

  Her surprised expression turned to uncertainty. “I…I think the baby just moved.”

  J.T.’s pulse began to race as he tried to remember what he’d read about the baby’s development. “Isn’t it too early for that?”

  “It can happen as early as sixteen weeks and I’m in my seventeenth week.” She emitted another gasp and her eyes widened with wonder. “I felt it again,” she said with breathy excitement.

  “What does it feel like?”

  “Like little flutters.” She reached for his hand and placed it gently on her rounded belly. Through the sheer fabric of her dress, her skin felt warm and supple against his fingers. “Can you feel it?”

  “No,” he said, disappointed and somewhat envious that Angie was able to feel their baby move inside her. “I don’t feel anything.”

  Angie covered his hand with hers. “You will when the baby gets a little bigger.”

  Standing so close to her and touching her again was more than J.T. could take. An erotic image of them entwined on the bed sizzled through his brain. He pulled his hand from hers and stepped back. “You should take that shower,” he said and turned away from her confused gaze. He heard the bathroom door close and let out a controlled breath. This no-sex thing was going to be the death of him. Literally.

  * * *

  Angie couldn’t sleep. How could anyone sleep when lying just a few feet from the hottest guy in the freaking universe? Rolling to her back, she stared at the canopy and listened to the steady cadence of J.T.’s breathing. Insomnia didn’t seem to be an issue for him.