I'll Show You Mine Read online

  Shane’s heart dropped. He glanced at the black-haired photographer, and damn if the guy didn’t give him a nod and a wink.

  Oh, you son of a bitch…

  Apparently he hadn’t been being very subtle, and now the photographer was trying to help him out.

  The blond photographer lowered his camera. “Bride and groom, take a much-deserved break. Let’s get bridesmaids and groomsmen. Ladies, face this way.” He gestured left. “Gentlemen, you’ll each stand beside one of the ladies.”

  Alyssa glanced at Shane, her eyebrows arched slightly.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

  Alyssa turned the direction the photographer had indicated.

  Shane stood behind her. As the photographer directed them, Shane rested his hand on her waist. “This okay?”

  “It’s fine.” She turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes as much as she could from there. “Are you…?”

  “I’m fine. You?”

  “I’m…” Oh God. “I’m good.”

  Shane wasn’t shy. It was a rare woman who could make him trip over his own feet, but just being near Alyssa was making him sweat bullets. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he could say something. Make some polite conversation, feel her out, see if the interest was as mutual as her occasional glance suggested, but he knew better. He wasn’t going to engage someone like Alyssa while her sister—and a few other people who knew him—were nearby. One flirtatious remark from him, and they’d all swoop in out of nowhere and disavow her of any thought she might have about giving him the time of day.

  But thanks to a well-intentioned photographer, he couldn’t get away from her either.

  As if on cue, a wave hit the boat. The deck listed beneath their feet, and all the bridesmaids wobbled in their high heels.

  Alyssa stumbled backward. Right into him.

  By the grace of God, he was turned just slightly, and she bumped into his hip. Another inch or two to the right, and things would’ve gotten…awkward.

  Jesus, Shane.

  He steadied her with a hand on her arm and the other still on her waist. “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” She laughed, color blooming in her cheeks, probably embarrassed as hell and mercifully unaware of how much her smile fucked with him. “Stupid shoes.”

  Shane chuckled.

  And after a few seconds, he realized they were still holding each other’s gaze, and he was still holding on to her.

  Clearing their throats, they both faced front again. He wondered if she was praying as hard as he was for the boat to stay steady until this was over. And speaking of hard, thank fuck he had on a jacket, which he intended to keep securely buttoned despite the afternoon’s lingering heat.

  After a few shots, the photographer lowered his camera again. “Good.” He glanced at his partner, and they exchanged something unspoken before the blond nodded to the wedding party. “Let’s get one with the bride’s family.”

  Everyone else dispersed, and Shane had to admit he was relieved to put a little distance between himself and Alyssa.

  What the fuck? This wasn’t like him at all. Oh, he’d been tongue-tied and out of breath over women before, but Alyssa had pretty much grabbed him by the balls at first sight and hadn’t let go. Did she know what effect she had on him? Shit, how could she not? He didn’t imagine he was putting on a very convincing display of calm and collected.

  God help him if she tried to strike up a conversation…

  At the reception, after the wedding party photos and obligations were over, Shane slipped away from the crowd to get himself a beer. He took a deep swallow, and let that cool himself down.

  Get a grip, he ordered himself. You don’t have a shot with her. Let it go.

  He turned just in time to catch Alyssa’s eye, and for a couple of tense, heart-pounding seconds, their gazes locked.

  She broke away first, and Shane was suddenly out of breath. Reeling. Looking for something to lean on so he’d stay upright.

  So much for the beer cooling him down. Jesus Christ.

  Shane shook himself and turned, searching for someone with a ready supply of alcohol.

  As he did, he caught someone else’s eye.

  Hannah’s expression hardened. She glanced past him, probably at her sister, and then scowled at him. And started toward him. And stopped right in front of him.

  “Shane.” She plastered on a smile that wouldn’t have fooled a blind man. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You too.” Shane’s smile probably wasn’t any more convincing. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Her lips got even tighter as she stared straight into his eyes. “Having a good time?”

  “Of course.”

  She studied him for a moment. “I noticed you met my sister earlier.”

  “Well, it is customary for the best man and maid of honor to cross paths a few times.”

  Her thin eyebrows came down a little, shadowing her narrow eyes. She didn’t say it, but the warning in her expression was crystal clear.

  Then she set her shoulders back and forced another unconvincing smile. “I need to go say hello to some of the other guests. Enjoy the party, Shane.”

  “You too.” Bitch. Shane gritted his teeth. So much for his buzz. Sighing, he handed his empty beer bottle to a passing waiter, then walked out onto the outside deck to get some air.

  It was a fairly warm evening, but most people stayed inside where the alcohol was. A small group stood off to one side near the railing, champagne glasses in hand as they took a selfie.

  Shane followed the walkway in the other direction, around the side of the cabin. A few windows looked into the party, but he was more or less alone. No small feat on a boat this size with this many people aboard.

  He rested his hands on the railing and looked out at the water.

  Somehow he’d kept his cool during the ceremony, even during the processional and recessional when he’d had her hand on his elbow, and when her skirt had occasionally brushed his leg, but now that he was by himself, he was surprised his hands weren’t shaking.

  This wasn’t like him at all. Sure, he believed in lust at first sight, and he wasn’t above checking anyone out, but it was a rare, rare woman who could put his jaw on the floor the way she had.

  Maybe it was just that dress. The color had been hideous, but it could’ve been bright orange for all he cared, because he’d immediately homed in on the way it clung to her hips and that ass. And when she’d turned around? Good God. He had no idea how she could breathe in that thing. Or move. How did any woman move when she was a badly timed sneeze away from falling out of her top?

  He’d probably never know. All he knew was he couldn’t breathe or move or think when she was in the room and barely in that dress.

  And something about the gleam in her eyes had just about done him in. Some guys dug the innocent, coquettish look, but Shane wasn’t into that. His Achilles’ heel was a woman who looked like she could issue a challenge without saying a word. The kind of woman who could probably back up that challenge and then some.

  Shane exhaled and leaned heavily on the railing, letting the ocean breeze cool the sudden warmth in his skin. If he was reading her right, and he was pretty sure he was, Alyssa was a woman who could throw a gauntlet with a grin. And if her sister wouldn’t have skinned him alive for so much as entertaining the idea, he’d have gladly picked it up.

  Shane rubbed his cool hands over his face. One night. Jesus. If he could just have her for one night. Hannah would never have to know, and Alyssa wouldn’t have to come up with a diplomatic way of telling him why they couldn’t be together. Not every woman came out and said it. Once they knew who he was, they made quick escapes, but not one woman had ever actually said the words. As if he didn’t know.

  He didn’t blame them. He couldn’t really even blame Hannah. And
he wouldn’t blame Alyssa.

  But damn, what he wouldn’t have done for just one night…

  Chapter Three

  “Alyssa? Is that you?”

  She turned around, and it took a second for the face to click in her mind, but then, “Oh my God! Chris?” She hugged her old friend tight. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He released her but kept a hand on her arm. “So what have you been doing?”

  She shrugged. “Working and paying taxes, just like everyone else.”

  He laughed. “Haven’t we all?”

  “Right?” She rolled her eyes. “These days, I’m managing a couple of departments at an export company. Nothing terribly exciting.”

  “Could be worse. I’m coming up on ten years in accounts receivable.” Chris wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t exactly running my own company and raking in millions, but it pays the bills.”

  “God, I know that feeling.”

  As they caught up, she caught her older sister Wendy’s eye from across the room, and her scowl made her stomach flip. A moment later, as Chris was gesturing at another group to point out his daughter—who was ten and absolutely adorable—she made the mistake of making eye contact with her aunt. And her stomach flipped again.

  Her enthusiasm immediately evaporated. This wasn’t even a flirtatious conversation. Just a couple of classmates catching up after fifteen years.

  But damn if anyone in this room who hadn’t lost touch with her in the last few years could sit comfortably while she spoke to a man. God forbid she lure him in and break his heart.

  She took a swallow of champagne but didn’t taste it. After almost four years, she’d have thought people would have forgotten by now. Or at least forgiven. Something. But no, they handed out plenty of dirty looks at a friend’s wedding six months ago when Alyssa had the audacity to dance with a guy she’d just met. Apparently another woman’s wedding wasn’t the place to be “on the prowl”. Not for a whore like her, anyway.

  And it wasn’t any better when she brought a date to Katie’s wedding last year. That poor, gullible sap, their eyes had all said.

  I give up.

  Short of moving to another city, there wasn’t much she could do to wash off this scarlet letter. She wasn’t doing that, though. That would mean moving her son away from his father. She’d just have to be patient and hope people eventually got over the circumstances under which her son was conceived. It wasn’t his fault. Alyssa couldn’t change it. Damn if anyone would let her forget it.

  And suddenly, Alyssa wasn’t in much of a mood to party.

  Chris gestured at the bar. “Can I buy you another drink?”

  Oh, it was tempting. Booze did have a way of erasing the past for at least a few minutes. But tonight she had a feeling it would just depress her, and she didn’t want to be That Bridesmaid, sobbing into the cake on her sister’s big day. Especially not when there were a few people in attendance who’d be more than happy to remind her she’d brought this on herself.

  “Actually…” She shook her head. “I think I’m getting a little seasick. I’m going to go outside for a couple of minutes.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just…” She gestured outside. “I haven’t been on a boat in a while. A little air, and I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. Well, it was great to see you.”

  With a forced smile, she said, “You too.”

  She left him to mingle with the other guests, and stepped outside. The boat was still rocking a little, and she decided to hell with risking a broken ankle—off with the shoes. And if the soles of her nylons ran or got dirty…oh well.

  As her feet met the cool, metal deck, she sighed, smiling to herself. The dull ache in her ankles would fade eventually, and she was already regaining feeling in her toes. Much better.

  Shoes in hand, she wandered farther out onto the deck. Almost everyone had gone inside—someone must’ve spread the word about the free alcohol—so she was pretty much alone. For a moment, she leaned against the railing, letting the wind play with the strands of hair that hadn’t stayed up where it belonged, but she doubted she’d stay here very long. She was too restless to stay still. Too wound up. Irritated.

  Alyssa threw a wary glance over her shoulder, inspecting the empty deck for anyone who’d followed her out to give her a disapproving look. Hell, let them look.

  Small wonder she always seriously considered blowing off social engagements when they included anyone she hadn’t met within the last few years. She’d lost enough sleep over mistakes she’d made—the last thing she needed was self-righteous assholes insisting she wear a scarlet goddamned letter any time she breathed the same air as a man.

  She glanced back at the party going on inside, at the people dancing and laughing, and her heart sank. It had been three and a half years since the truth had come out. Three and a half long, lonely years. How many more before people who knew didn’t feel the need to warn men away from her?

  Grumbling to herself, she pushed herself away from the railing.

  Restlessness took over, so she started wandering. There had to be somewhere on this damned boat where she could move around and get some air and just escape for a little while.

  She followed the walkway from the deck to the side of the cabin, where it narrowed and continued toward the other end of the boat.

  And she stopped dead.

  There he was.

  She stopped so abruptly, she almost stumbled again, and stared at him. And for the second time today, she was genuinely surprised to see him without a cigarette between his lips. Instead, he rested both hands on the railing, eyes closed as the wind played with his hair.

  Get out of here. Back to the party. Go. Go now!

  But her legs wouldn’t obey.

  And then he turned his head.

  His posture straightened as if she’d startled him. “Oh. Hey.”

  “Hey.” Her legs were apparently still good for something—moving toward him. “You’re missing the party.”

  He chuckled, turning toward her and resting his elbow on the railing. “So are you.”

  Oh, I’m not missing anything important right now.

  She shrugged. “You’ve been to one wedding, you’ve been to them all.”

  Shane threw his head back and laughed. “Isn’t that the truth.” He gestured at her hand. “Gave up on the suicide heels?”

  She glanced down at the strappy shoes dangling from her fingers. “Are you kidding? I can wear them, but not on a boat.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t know how anyone walks in them in the first place. Out here?” He gestured at the water and shook his head. “Seems like pain waiting to happen.”

  “You have no idea. And I got tired of stumbling all over the place every time the boat rocked. I swear, I still have my sea legs.” She held up her high heels. “Damned shoes were trying to kill me.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Your sea legs?”

  “Yeah. You know, being able to—”

  “Yes, I know what they are,” he said, chuckling. “I’m assuming you’ve spent a fair amount of time out on the water, then?”

  Alyssa nodded. “Eight years in the Navy.”

  “Really?” He rested his elbow on the railing. “That must have been an interesting career.”

  “Wasn’t interesting enough to keep me past the eight-year mark, but it gave me a chance to grow up before I had to get out on my own and be an adult.”

  Shane laughed dryly, shifting his gaze out to the water. “There’d be a lot fewer problems in this world if more kids went that route.”

  “I don’t know. You didn’t see some of the guys on my last ship.”

  “No.” He turned toward her again, an odd expression—somewhere between amused, sad and secretive—
tightening his features. “But I’ve seen plenty of the idiots who never even made it that far.”

  “Good point.” She leaned on the railing and let her shoulders slouch just a little. As soon as she’d relaxed, one of the straps on her dress made a quick escape down her arm. She reached for it, but Shane was faster.

  He hooked his finger under the strap and drew it back up, letting the backs of his fingers trail across her skin. As the strap settled onto her shoulder and he pulled his hand back, a shiver went through her, all the way down to her toes.

  “Uh.” She swallowed, resting her arms on the railing again now that his brief, soft touch had messed up her equilibrium. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  She looked up at him and realized just how much taller he was without her high heels to make up the difference.

  He craned his neck and furrowed his brow. “That’s an interesting tattoo.”

  She self-consciously reached back. “I totally forgot it was showing.”

  “I like it.” He smiled. “It’s nice.”

  “Thanks.” She returned the smile. “Some people aren’t big on girls with ink.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not some people.” He gestured at her tattoo. “Is that your only one?”

  “No, I have more.”

  “I have a few myself.” His smile turned to a mouthwatering grin. “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

  “I’ve already shown you one of mine. I think you owe me one.”

  Disbelief flickered across his expression, as if he wasn’t used to women who could keep up with him. “I suppose I do, don’t I?” He glanced toward the glow coming from the party they’d left behind, and then undid his bowtie. His long fingers mesmerized her as he opened the first few buttons of his shirt, and the glimpse of skin underneath sped up her pulse.

  He tugged his partially opened shirt aside, along with the collar of the white T-shirt beneath, and revealed a somewhat faded wolf etched into his left pec. As she stared at it, Alyssa almost convinced herself it was the tattoo she wanted to reach out and touch. Somehow she doubted he’d believe that excuse.