Jamie, who had been hiding in the corner, heard him and started toward the door, obviously planning on leaving without even looking at him.
Caroline called out, “Wait, Jamie, you don’t have your necklace on.”
Jamie’s hand flew to her neck. “Oh! I forgot to put it on, it’s in my purse. I need help with the clasp though.”
His mother opened her mouth and held out her hand, but he was faster. “I’ll help you.”
Both his mother and sister were preoccupied with the back of Caroline’s dress, which they kept touching and tugging, so neither noticed his near run across the room to reach Jamie.
Everything had become absolutely clear to him. He wanted this woman. As his. Wearing white herself.
Good God, he could actually envision that, and he was just going to explain—coax, seduce, threaten, beg—that to her until she agreed.
Jamie thought about just bolting out of the room, but decided that wasn’t good form given the circumstances. She’d been raised better than that. She could practically feel her granny’s hand slapping hers.
Instead of taking off, she pulled the sterling silver necklace that had been a bridal gift from Caroline out of her purse and tried to squeeze the clasp. If she got it open in the next two seconds, Jack’s help wouldn’t be needed.
No such luck.
He was behind her, taking the necklace, leaning over her, breathing into her hair.
“Let me help you,” he whispered. “There are times I can help you, too, you know.”
His arms came around her, resting the chain against her bare skin, as she fought the urge to lean back and close her eyes.
He was telling her something, only her brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity. Jack was too close; she couldn’t think with the warm aftershave smell of him clouding her nostrils.
Then he dropped the necklace.
And it slid down, down into the cavernous depths of her cleavage.
She was too stunned to move, and heat suffused her cheeks.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
Then his hand came over her shoulder and started toward her chest as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”
Oh, God, help her.
If she screamed, Caroline and Mrs. Davidson were going to wonder if she had lost her mind. Or worse, see Jack’s hand down her dress.
Right now they weren’t looking at all.
But if she just stood here while he…
His fingers trailed along her breasts as he descended, and she bit her lip hard to prevent a groan from slipping out. His mouth was right next to her ear as he leaned over her shoulder to see where he was going.
To better torture her.
“I’ve almost got it,” he whispered, fingers sliding up and down against her bare skin.
She sucked in her breath when without warning he dipped his tongue into her ear.
If Caroline turned now, there would be no explaining why half of her brother’s arm was down Jamie’s bodice and his tongue was cleaning out her inner ear.
But Caro didn’t turn, and Jack went farther, until his hand was cupping her breast, squeezing it, and she felt the room tilt in ecstasy. Felt her body respond by hardening, tightening, moistening. Nails digging into her palms, she tried to stop the flood of yearning, the hitch of sexual desire.
It was possible that the entire top of the dress was about to drop off of her in the ultimate wardrobe malfunction, and she didn’t care.
All she cared about was Jack, and the feel of his breathing over her hard and urgent, a definite erection pressing into her backside.
When he came up with the necklace, she was shaking and desperately disappointed.
And acutely aware that she was no match for Jack. She didn’t have a prayer of resisting him.
She wanted Jack Davidson, and he knew it.
And he was going to torture her until she let him make delicious love to her.
How did she end up with these tragic problems?
When put that way, it sounded so damn silly.
As Jamie smiled and posed her way through approximately seventeen thousand photos, she wondered why she couldn’t just have Jack.
Oh, she knew the reasons. They were as long as her arm, and they mattered, but it was so hard to resist Jack. So hard to say that they couldn’t at least try.
She was an optimist by nature. She wanted to believe if she just loved Jack, it could work out. But the very part of her that wanted to fix the world at work had seen enough of reality to know that nothing was ever that simple.
And she was afraid. When she’d had the chance to talk to her father the week before, and he had chosen to bolt instead, she had been devastated. Now it occurred to her she was in fact her father’s daughter. A coward. She was just as afraid to face an uncertain future as Jim Peters was.
“You with the red hair, move closer to your partner, please.”
Jamie frowned at the photographer. She was not a redhead. She moved an eighth of an inch closer to Jack.
“Closer.”
They were standing on steps on the side of the stone church, and she was already practically in Jack’s arms.
Gritting her teeth, she moved again.
Jack’s arm shot out, wrapped around her waist, then yanked her until she was snugly molded to him, her thigh resting against his hard leg.
“Good.” The photographer clicked his camera.
Jack’s hand had slid to her behind and he gave a little squeeze.
“Stop it,” she whispered, her smile feeling more and more forced. She suspected she looked like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.
She expected him to say something slick, or suggestive, or to simply ignore her and cop another feel.
Instead, he disarmed her by saying quietly, “I’ll catch you if you fall. I haven’t always shown them to you, but I do have good qualities, Jamie, and loyalty is one of them. I’d always be there for you.”
“Jack…” She didn’t know what to say. He had shown her good qualities, particularly when it came to Austin and Jack’s grandfather.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him. He’d see her heart in her eyes, the longing she felt. Which wasn’t good. Longing, that is. But come to think of it, nausea wasn’t good either, and she was experiencing that in constant waves. And she was not pregnant, contrary to Caroline’s off-the-wall concern.
Jamie was still standing next to Jack, speechless as the photographer clicked, clicked, aware that Jack was waiting for her response.
Fortunately, at that moment, Mrs. Davidson opened the church doors and said, “We’re ready. Let’s go inside, please, when you’re done with that shot. All the guests have arrived.”