that home in New Orleans . Maybe she could find a young chupacabra of her own.
All she had to do was capture one during the daytime and keep it caged until she had domesticated it. How hard could that be?
The night of the wedding arrived, and Jess sat with Charles and Julia in the pew traditionally reserved for the groom's family, since Dirk's parents were dead. Beside her sat several of Dirk's closer SEAL friends, in full military dress.
Jess was forced to admit that there really was something about a man in uniform.
The man beside her was particularly attractive, and Jess found him more than eager to engage in casual conversation while they waited for the rest of the guests to arrive. She was thinking that the evening was full of promise when she saw the man's eyes flicker to something on the other side of her. She turned and was shocked to see John Boehler shaking hands with Charles.
"So glad you could make it," Charles said.
"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," John replied, glancing up long enough to wink at her.
Nonplussed, Jess could only stare at him as he next greeted Julia. For a change, his face was clean shaven and his dark hair was neatly combed back; his usual rumpled suit had been replaced with a much nicer one. The change in appearance made him seem a completely different person, one who could even pose for the cover of
GQ
—or maybe a policeman's calendar, given his wide shoulders and trim hips.
He definitely cleaned up well, and she suddenly wondered if he would think the same of her. She'd chosen to wear a simple, sleeveless black cocktail-length dress, with a V-neckline and simple lines that showed off her figure to good advantage. She'd pulled her hair back in a loose bun, letting a few tendrils hang down. Up until now, she'd thought the gown was perfect for the evening. Now, as John came to her, she felt scantily clad.
"Excuse me, do you mind?" he said to the man beside her, pointing to the spot between them. "I was hoping to sit next to my date tonight."
Before Jess could say a word, the man shot her a look that let her know he didn't approve of her flirting with him when she was clearly involved with someone else, and scooted down. John immediately took his place.
"I trust I'm not interrupting," he said softly, leaning toward her in what had to look like an intimate gesture. "I really don't think he's your type, though."
"I guess we'll never know, thanks to you—again." She spoke with saccharine sweetness, but John laughed, seeming to be genuinely amused. That made her mad, so she decided to ignore him through the rest of the evening and turned her attention to the front of the church, even though the only thing to see there were the large bouquets of white roses sitting atop each of two pedestals.
Clearly not taking her hint, John leaned close again to whisper in her ear. "You look very nice tonight." His breath fanned across her neck, sending a small shiver racing along her body.
Jess continued to stare at the roses, not wanting to encourage him to speak to her.
"Great dress," he whispered again, and she practically felt the heat of his gaze on her plunging neckline. "Although you probably should have worn something warmer," he continued, his voice caressing her. "Do you want to wear my coat?"
Was he daft? It felt like someone had turned the heater on full blast. "No, thank you," she said in a hushed tone. "I'm not cold."
"Ah."
Up until now, she'd been staring straight ahead, but that simple response drew her attention. When their gazes met, she saw that his eyes were shining with amusement—and something more; something heated. He broke eye contact and his gaze dropped to her breasts and lingered too long to be polite before he brought his gaze back to hers and winked. "I'm flattered."
Immediately, she felt her breasts swell and knew, without looking, that her nipples were distended; a fact that must have also been obvious to him through the fabric of her
All she had to do was capture one during the daytime and keep it caged until she had domesticated it. How hard could that be?
The night of the wedding arrived, and Jess sat with Charles and Julia in the pew traditionally reserved for the groom's family, since Dirk's parents were dead. Beside her sat several of Dirk's closer SEAL friends, in full military dress.
Jess was forced to admit that there really was something about a man in uniform.
The man beside her was particularly attractive, and Jess found him more than eager to engage in casual conversation while they waited for the rest of the guests to arrive. She was thinking that the evening was full of promise when she saw the man's eyes flicker to something on the other side of her. She turned and was shocked to see John Boehler shaking hands with Charles.
"So glad you could make it," Charles said.
"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," John replied, glancing up long enough to wink at her.
Nonplussed, Jess could only stare at him as he next greeted Julia. For a change, his face was clean shaven and his dark hair was neatly combed back; his usual rumpled suit had been replaced with a much nicer one. The change in appearance made him seem a completely different person, one who could even pose for the cover of
GQ
—or maybe a policeman's calendar, given his wide shoulders and trim hips.
He definitely cleaned up well, and she suddenly wondered if he would think the same of her. She'd chosen to wear a simple, sleeveless black cocktail-length dress, with a V-neckline and simple lines that showed off her figure to good advantage. She'd pulled her hair back in a loose bun, letting a few tendrils hang down. Up until now, she'd thought the gown was perfect for the evening. Now, as John came to her, she felt scantily clad.
"Excuse me, do you mind?" he said to the man beside her, pointing to the spot between them. "I was hoping to sit next to my date tonight."
Before Jess could say a word, the man shot her a look that let her know he didn't approve of her flirting with him when she was clearly involved with someone else, and scooted down. John immediately took his place.
"I trust I'm not interrupting," he said softly, leaning toward her in what had to look like an intimate gesture. "I really don't think he's your type, though."
"I guess we'll never know, thanks to you—again." She spoke with saccharine sweetness, but John laughed, seeming to be genuinely amused. That made her mad, so she decided to ignore him through the rest of the evening and turned her attention to the front of the church, even though the only thing to see there were the large bouquets of white roses sitting atop each of two pedestals.
Clearly not taking her hint, John leaned close again to whisper in her ear. "You look very nice tonight." His breath fanned across her neck, sending a small shiver racing along her body.
Jess continued to stare at the roses, not wanting to encourage him to speak to her.
"Great dress," he whispered again, and she practically felt the heat of his gaze on her plunging neckline. "Although you probably should have worn something warmer," he continued, his voice caressing her. "Do you want to wear my coat?"
Was he daft? It felt like someone had turned the heater on full blast. "No, thank you," she said in a hushed tone. "I'm not cold."
"Ah."
Up until now, she'd been staring straight ahead, but that simple response drew her attention. When their gazes met, she saw that his eyes were shining with amusement—and something more; something heated. He broke eye contact and his gaze dropped to her breasts and lingered too long to be polite before he brought his gaze back to hers and winked. "I'm flattered."
Immediately, she felt her breasts swell and knew, without looking, that her nipples were distended; a fact that must have also been obvious to him through the fabric of her
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