Now

Camille took his arm to walk down the aisle and Jackson flashed to a fantasy of the two of them at their own wedding. But she happened to be in a dark red dress, not a white one, and they were merely a bridesmaid and groomsman. And she was clearly furious with him.

She was so beautiful, it hurt him to look at her. He’d been studying her for a decade, and she’d become as integral to him as his arm or leg. He had never experienced anything like the relationship they’d built, and had never been so honest with another human being, even the siblings he adored.

It had always been different with Camille. Even from the beginning, she was one of the very few who saw underneath the intricate persona he created. Their connection was beyond friendship or attraction. It was a soul to soul connection that all of his analytical training could not understand but his heart knew to be true.

He could not pinpoint the moment he understood the nature of his feelings for her, as if they had always been. They were young when they first met and she was so fragile. Traumatized by her parents’ death and completely inexperienced. He couldn’t possibly have taken her the way he wanted. But it had been ten years, and she had turned out to be stronger and more capable than anyone he knew.

Their accidental kiss was his freedom from the faceless women he carried on his arm, from watching her love anyone else, from the arbitrary boundary that defined them as friends and not lovers.

They stepped in perfect rhythm, as instructed, greeting the large crowd around them, and pacing their movements to match the music. “You should never be a bridesmaid, Camille.”

Her head tilted to search his face.

“You outshine every woman in this room. Including the bride.”

She spoke through the perma-smile that she was forced to make as she met the happy eyes on either side of the aisle. “I’m begging you, Jackson. Please stop. I need to get through this wedding without falling apart.”

He squeezed the hand tucked into his arm. “I just want you to know that I see you. I always have.”

Something in the bottom of her abdomen made a gentle flip up to her heart when Jackson put his arm out for her as they entered the chapel. This man, who had always been her ideal, had made a case for a shift in their relationship. Of course she loved him. Of course she wanted him. He was the most important person in her life. That wasn’t the point. Camille desperately wanted her best friend to resume that prized position and stop trying to fit himself in a more complicated way. There was too much at risk.

She sighed with relief as they moved to opposite sides of the altar. Her body still shimmered with the memory of his touch. It didn’t help that he was gorgeous in his groomsman tux, either. As if God had designed the tuxedo for that particular man.

Their exit from the chapel was much easier, partially due to the ability to walk at a normal speed, and partially due to cheers and applause that greeted the entire wedding party. As soon as they were through the double doors, Camille unhooked from his arm and made her way to the bathroom to freshen up before the pictures.

Smiling and making nice for the camera were going to test every bit of her discipline and willpower. Her head was spinning, her heart was pounding, and her thoughts were everywhere she did not want them to be. How could she stand next to him and not get lost in the sensation of his body and her body almost…?

---

The wedding party and all family members waited outside the reception hall until all four hundred guests were seated. Keeping with tradition, each couple in the wedding party, as well as all immediate family members, would be introduced and make a choreographed entrance. Despite Camille’s desire to put some space between herself and Jackson, she had been forced to be in close proximity to him all day. She looked everywhere but in his direction. Which is why she noticed the commotion in the lobby.

One particular woman was impossible to miss. The nearly six-foot frame, with legs that didn’t stop, enormous breasts and a megawatt smile belonged to none other than Anya, Jackson’s allegedly not-serious girlfriend who was not supposed to be there. But she was, entourage and all.

“You must be kidding.”

Jackson followed the direction of her gaze. “What the…”

The line of his jaw hardened and his eyes burned. He spun on his heel and strode in Anya’s direction. Camille recognized that expression, and that determined walk, and was glad not to be on the receiving end of what was coming.

Anya noticed him only after he was nearly on top of her. A heart-melting smile covered her face as she wrapped her body around his.

“Hello my daahrling!”

Camille couldn’t hear his response, but his body language was loud and clear. He did not hug her back. The expression on Anya’s face didn’t shift one bit. In fact, she took his face and kissed him. As if she were watching a train wreck, Camille could not pull away. That mouth, which had, mere hours ago, been on her own, was being possessed by another woman. They stayed connected for long enough that the entire wedding party began to notice. Little by little the whispers, giggles and excited comments filled the space. After all, Anya was most men’s fantasy. Maybe some women’s too.

By the time he finally broke away, Camille had had enough and turned her back to the scene. She had no right to feel the way she did, but betrayal seethed through her veins. This was exactly what she expected from their transgression. This was the nightmare she had successfully avoided all these years.

---

“And now, we welcome Dr. Jackson King and Ms. Camille Moreau!!”

The applause tumbled out of the large room, but Camille had no companion. Uncertain what to do, she stepped through the door by herself. Jackson caught her around the waist just in time and they strode in together, stopping at the center of the dance-floor to wave, and then move directly to their table, just off to the right.

Camille jerked away from him as soon as the crowd’s attention shifted to the next couple.

“Cam.” He had his don’t mess with me look on his face.

She would not be intimidated by him. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

“I know you’re upset. She said she wasn’t coming. I don’t know what happened. None of this was planned.”

Camille forced herself to swallow the scathing words that wanted to come flying out of her mouth. She knew she was over-reacting. She also knew this man could decipher every one of her expressions and emotions. “I’m fine, Jack. Your girlfriend has every right to be here. It was just… unexpected… that’s all.”

“Really, Cam? Are we resorting to bullshit now?”

Anya tackled him from behind. “Daaahrling, you keep running away from me!”

“Anya,” he growled.

“Oh, hey, Camille. You don’t mind my taking my boy, do you?” Without waiting for an answer, Anya pulled Jackson out to the dance-floor. When he turned back toward her, Camille looked away, forcing herself to focus on the silver vase in the middle of the table instead of the dread that pushed against her throat.

---

Camille had just finished cleaning up her smeared eyeliner when Jenna came into the bathroom.

“Cam… what’s wrong?”

She was no match for those clear blue eyes. “Something really bad has happened, Jenna. Really bad.” The tears began again.

“Is this about Charlie? Because we can-”

“It’s not about Charlie. It’s about… ”

“Jack.”

Camille’s hand froze in front of her face. “How did you know?”

“What happened with you two? What’s going on?”

Camille looked down, away from the mirror, to collect her thoughts. She had to tell the truth. “We… almost slept together.”

Jenna’s face turned into a series of widening circles. “No fucking way.”

“I can’t believe, after all these years, we could screw up like that.”

Jenna put her hands on Camille’s shoulders. “Wait a minute. What happened? Exactly?”

“You don’t want to hear this.”

“You bet your ass I do. Just pretend we’re not talking about my brother. It’s just some guy you’re telling me about.”

The combination of too much champagne and desperation fueled Camille’s honesty. “First he kissed me. Then he told me he loved me. Then-”

“Of course he loves you. You are like our-”

“No, Jenna. He told me he loves me.”

The surprise in Jenna’s expression passed so quickly, Camille nearly missed it. “I knew that, too.”

Camille tilted her head to examine the face of the woman who was more like a sister than a friend, but who apparently knew more than she had ever said.

“He’s been in love with you for a long time. But he was waiting for you.”

Camille flushed. “I don’t understand.”

“I know. My brother - the most eligible bachelor on two coasts - has been pining for you forever. I’m not sure why he made his move now, with everything going on. Maybe he couldn’t wait any longer.” Jenna wiped a tear rolling toward Camille’s ear. “Cam, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. So many ups and downs this weekend. But please know this: he is in love with you. I know my brother, and I would tell any woman on the planet to run, not walk, in the opposite direction. Except for you. You’re the only one who makes him… normal. Like the man I know.”

“This makes no sense, Jenna. He’s out there right now with his girlfriend.”

Jenna curled her lip. “You mean Anya? Be serious. She means nothing to him. He’s humoring her so she doesn’t make a scene. I don’t think she’s even into guys. She’s just using him to get press attention.” Jenna turned back to the mirror and ran a finger below her lower lip, removing any excess lipstick. “Listen, I’m not saying you need to be with him. I’m just saying that whatever he said, and whatever happened between you, it was real. There are no games when it comes to you.”

Camille desperately wanted to ask her friend what to do. How to go back out into the party and watch him with another woman, whether it was pretend or not. She held her tongue.

Jenna moved toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go back out there and enjoy this million dollar wedding.”

“I’ll be out in a sec.”

Camille sighed at the sight of her red eyes and puffy face in the mirror. She would have to do something to take attention away from the remnants of her upset. One by one, she pulled each of the numerous bobby pins from her hair, releasing it from the elaborate updo. It was late enough in the reception that she was sure the bride wouldn’t mind her breaking the dress code. The unleashing of her long auburn waves lessened the tension around her temples, and she forced herself to smile.

Jenna was right. It would be a shame to waste this extraordinary wedding fretting about nothing. Jackson had not promised her anything. She had no right to be upset. Besides, there were so many reasons it would be a bad idea to succumb to her feelings for Jackson. If only she could think of one.

She pushed open the door to find him standing directly in front of her.

“What are you doing, Jack?”

His expression was inscrutable. “I’m waiting for you.”

“Why?”

“Because you promised me a dance. And I’m here to collect.” A smile began to peek through.

Camille looked around to his left, toward the ballroom. “Where’s Anya?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Camille’s face contorted in disapproval.

“Cam, I’m sorry. I had no idea she would show up even though I asked her not to. There’s nothing happening between us. It’s all for show. She’s an actress, remember. You’re the only one I’m concerned about tonight.”

“Nothing has happened between us. But just the hint of it has created so much mess. At least for me. How can that be a good thing?”

“Growing into something is never comfortable.”

She shook her head. “Don’t psycho-babble me, please.”

He lifted his chin in defense, then burst into a broad smile. “You realize you’re the only one in my life I would allow to speak to me that way.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I should be concerned about.”

He wrapped his finger around a curl of her hair. “Let’s dance.”

“Fine.”

With all their friends celebrating in front of them, and his hand against her low back as they walked into the main hall, Camille had trouble remembering what she was supposed to be upset about.

How many songs had she danced with Jackson? Too many to count. Yet, when he pulled her to him, when their bodies pressed together, synchronized in movement, it was an altogether different experience than anything that had come before.

His face hovered inches away from hers. “I want to kiss you, Camille.”

“You can’t.”

“I could, actually.”

“But you won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because your girlfriend is here, and all our friends are here, and nobody is ready for us to be kissing.” Least of all, me.

He shook his head. “She’s not my girlfriend. And I have never known you to give a shit about what anybody else thinks. Why start now?”

“Because we are attending a good friend’s wedding, and we are considerate people, and we don’t need to make a scene.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think my kisses are so good, there would be a scene?”

She rolled her eyes at him, which barely concealed the fact that what he said was true. “You exhaust me, Jackson.”

“That’s not quite the emotional response I was looking for, but it’s better than anger. Or disdain.”

“How do you know I’m not angry? Furious, even?”

A wide grin erupted across his face. “Because I’ve been studying you for ten years, love. And I am the expert in everything Camille.”

She gave him a mock scowl. “Your humility is overwhelming, Dr. King.”

“You’re right. That was an overstatement.”

Camille nearly tripped over her own feet at the rare appearance of Jackson admitting he had gotten something wrong.

“Steady there, girl. I’d love for you to fall all over me, but you just said this wasn’t the time or place.”

All she could do was sigh. “So, what correction would you like to make?”

“I am the expert in Camille the friend, but I have no experience of Camille the lover. Except secondhand, of course. I would imagine there are some significant differences.”

All that smartness was wearing her down. “Such as?”

“Hmmm… good question. My initial thoughts would be that both emotional breadth and intensity would increase.” He pulled back enough to make sure she could see his face. “And I greatly look forward to experiencing all of that. Every single laugh and cry and scream and moan.”

She could not keep her face composed enough to pretend that his statement did not send tremors down the length of her body.

---

After the main reception, and two different after-parties, Camille was done. Jackson had not been more than a few feet away from her since their first dance, and he continued to follow her up to her room.

“I haven’t invited you to stay with me.”

“Not in words, no. But I’m staying.” This man had enough confidence and certainty for three men.

“Jackson, you seem to think that I am eighteen again, and you are the wise older brother, or the boss. Those days are long gone.”

“No one is happier about that than I am. You were no match for me back then. But now…” His eyes shimmered.

Her vision tunneled in on his mouth. His luscious, beautiful mouth. All those years of resisting dissolved in a single impulse. She tipped forward and kissed him. As soon as their lips touched, he responded by pulling her tightly to him. Her hands wove into his hair, his hands slid down her back, coming to rest at the curve of her bottom. His tongue parted her lips and explored her mouth. She arched her back, pushing her breasts into his chest. He squeezed a handful of her ass.

She pulled away to catch her breath.

“Open the door, Camille.”

The inferno in her body easily drowned out the warning whispers in her head.

Even before the door had latched shut, she slipped her hands under his lapels and pushed his jacket off. While he buried his mouth in her neck, she pulled the bottom of his shirt out of his pants and unbuttoned it. The top half of his body was bare in moments and her hands took full advantage.

“You feel as good as you look, Jack.” She skimmed her hands over the angles of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen, and the curves of his arms. Then she followed with her mouth, giving one of his small, tight nipples a lick. A groan escaped on his breath.

The bulge in his pants demanded her attention next, and away went his pants, shoes, and underwear. She was fully dressed, he was stripped bare. This was just about the right balance of power for her.

“Do you like what you see, love?” He gave his cock a slow stroke and she had to bite her lip not to gasp. She moved his hand away and took over, wrapping her fingers around him and sliding from head to base. The rumors were true. Jackson King was seriously well endowed.

“Aaah.” His groan resounded directly into her body.

She needed his mouth so she moved in for another kiss while keeping him in her hand.

His fingers fumbled on her back, and she realized he was unzipping her dress. Once the zipper reached her waist, the swath of crimson fabric fell away, creating a pool at her feet. She was left in only the bustier they all had specially made to fit under the strapless bridesmaid dresses, her nearly invisible lace thong, and a pair of camel colored stilettos.

This package was not lost on the man before her. “Holy shit, Camille. You are… killing me…” His thumb skimmed across the top of her pushed-up breasts, then dropped the front cup of the bustier to pinch her dark rose nipple. The next second, it became the pull of his mouth and the scrape of his teeth. She reached for his shoulders as her balance faltered.

When he lifted his head to look at her, she swallowed, remembering the vow she’d made and the line she never expected to cross.

He took her hand, led her to the bed, sat down, and brought her onto his lap. His erection pressed against her hip and she wondered if he could feel her wetness on his thigh.

“Talk to me, Cam. What’s going on? You look…” He pursed his lips.

“I just didn’t expect to ever be like this… with you. Isn’t it a shock for you, to see me like this?”

He shook his head for too long before speaking. “I always knew we would be together. Like this.”

Her stomach dropped to the bottom of her torso, out onto the floor, and down the nine stories to the lobby of the hotel. Never in a million years did she expect that the man she trusted like family had set his sights on nailing her. She was another conquest. Her whole body shook.

“Does that scare you, love? You look frightened.” He took her face in his hands. “Cam. Say something. I don’t know what you’re thinking. I don’t know what that expression means.”

She pushed herself off his lap and onto her feet. “I thought you were the expert in Camille.”

A fire consumed her chest and throat. It was impossible to breathe deeply enough to calm herself down.

He stood up and clutched her arms. “Camille, what’s going on right now? Whatever you’re thinking, whatever is making you this angry, it can be explained. Please don’t pull away from me like this.”

“Get out of my room.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. What just happened?”

“Jackson, please understand me when I say that it would be in your best interest to get as far away from me as possible. I’m going into the bathroom right now. Get dressed and be gone by the time I come out.” She stepped out of her shoes and strode into the bathroom. Without bothering to turn the light on, she sat on the edge of the cold bathtub.

Jenna said he’d been in love with her for years. But she was wrong. He just wanted to screw her. All that restraint she’d shown over all these years and he would happily throw it all away for a roll in the sack. Rustling from the room pulled her attention to the bathroom door. He wouldn’t dare enter.

A few minutes later the front door latched and she made her way back into the room, into bed, and buried herself under a mountain of blankets.