CHAPTER ONE
She was lovable in her own way, which sometimes meant she was not loved at all.
—The Temptress of Pecan Lane, by Mae Daniels
The only thing better than watching a handsome man in uniform was taking him home at the end of the night to strip him out of it. With his fresh haircut and tailored Air Force mess dress, Anna Martin’s husband complemented the elegant southern grandiosity of The Harrington’s ballroom better than the faux marble floor and the towering magnolia arrangements.
This wedding reception couldn’t end soon enough.
Anna slid up beside Neil at the open bar and nudged him with her hip. “I always feel bad for the bride at these things.”
“Why?” Neil took two beers from the bartender. He tucked a few dollars into the tip jar.
“Because you’re already taken so they had to settle for second best.”
His face twisted into the same pained expression he’d worn the last half-dozen times she’d used that line, but she gave him ayou-know-you-love-megrin anyway.
Because he’d still been happy to let her take him home and strip him out of his uniform after the last half-dozenweddings.
She shoved the gift she’d snuck from the pile at the bride’s request at him. “Oh, wait.” His National Defense Service Medal was crooked.
Before she could straighten it, he handed the gift back. “It’s fine, Anna. C’mon.”
He strode past tables of wedding guests finishing their chicken and cheese grits. Anna tagged along, enjoying the view from behind.
“Jules mention what’s in that?” Neil asked over his shoulder, his gaze shifting to the present.
“She said it’s from Rodney and they want to open it in private. So probably something with fur and spikes.”
She waited for Neil to laugh. Instead, his gaze went unfocused. She steered him around a chair she didn’t think he’d seen.
Jules, almost as resplendent in her ivory satin gown as Neil was in his mess dress, dove for the box as soon as Anna was within arm’s reach. Her thick dark hair was tucked and tamed into her tiara, but her wedding day hadn’t entirely cured her sardonic lip curl. She stashed the gift under the table.
Neil handed the groom one of the beers.
“That box has some giggidy written all over it,” Brad said. He and Neil shared a man-grin and a fist bump. Rodney leaned around the newlyweds for a high five.
“Your giggidy’s gonna give your grandmother a heart attack.” Jules snagged the beer Neil was passing to Rodney, then gave Neil a fist bump of her own. “Hope you have something nice to say,” she said to him. She jerked a thumb to Rodney. “I almost let Anna smack adangerous when speakinglabel on his forehead.”
“I’m dangerous all the time, baby,” Rodney said.
Anna had spent a total of five minutes with him, but she’d agree with that. The groom and his best man shared the same bulky build, bushy blond hair, and lewd grin that, when flashed over their uniforms, had inspired half the women atthe wedding to check that their dresses were still buttoned.
Anna only checked when Neil flashed her that grin.
The DJ worked his way behind the table to hand Rodney a mic.
“Does that thing have a profanity delay?” Jules asked the DJ.
He shook his head. She took a hit from her beer.
Anna settled into her seat and adjusted her fork and knife on her plate so they were parallel, then did the same for Neil’s. “Ready?” Anna murmured to him.
“Of course.”
Rodney clinked his glass to get the room’s attention. The hum of voices and clink of silverware dropped off. “Evening, y’all.” His voice boomed around the massive room. “Want to thank you for coming out to watch my little bro give up his manhood for a woman.” Amidst a smattering of chuckles, he raised his glass. “Unlike these Air Force weenies, us Marines don’t waste our words, so I’ll make this short and sweet. To Brad and Jules. May the mountains in your lives be peaked with pleasure, and the valleys between show you the way to heaven.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “And may you still be getting it up when you’re eighty-three.”
“Giggidy,” Brad said with a brow wiggle of his own.
