The Wedding She Always Wanted. Stacy Connelly
who did not think he was good enough for someone like her—”
“You’re right.” Emily stepped closer, covering the distance Javy had tried to put between them, and joined a conversation that she was smart enough to realize was about her. “I was a silly girl back then.” Meeting Javy’s gaze, she added in Spanish, “Pero ahora mujer.”
Javy felt his jaw drop, and he ducked his head rather than let his mother see the smile he couldn’t hold back. Muttering beneath her breath, Maria stalked off to the kitchen. As he met Emily’s gaze, he let out a low laugh.
She winced. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize.” As much as he loved his mother, she was a force to be reckoned with, and few people tried. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had silenced her. He never would have guessed Emily Wilson would be up for the job.
Once more she was showing him she was nothing like the spoiled rich girl he’d figured her for. She had spirit—buried deep, maybe, but still burning, despite what life had thrown at her. She’d shown it at the reception when she’d stood up to the gossips talking behind her back and just now with his mother.
But I am a woman now.
His mother had taught him Spanish straight from the cradle, so he certainly hadn’t needed to think about translating the sentence Emily had spoken in perfect, if unaccented, Spanish. But it was as if his body had interpreted the words before his brain had even had the chance. Emily was a woman, no question about it. A fact both his body and his brain fully appreciated.
“You’re incredible, you know that?”
She gave a questioning laugh. “Because I speak Spanish?”
“No, Emily, not because you speak Spanish.”
Their gazes locked, and the low vibe of desire picked up speed until Javy half expected the windows to start shaking. Another wash of color lit Emily’s cheeks. As incapable of accepting a compliment as she was at recognizing her own worth, she ducked her head and quickly explained, “Foreign language was a requirement at my school. My mother wanted me to take French, but my father thought Spanish more practical.”
“I would have bet you spoke French.”
“Well, I did take French my junior and senior year to make my mother happy. But my father was right about Spanish.”
“So, you did what your father wanted, and you did what would make your mother happy,” Javy said, seeing a pattern she had likely followed most of her life. “What about you, Emily? What do you want? What would make you happy?”
Emily glanced around the restaurant rather than focusing on Javy’s questions. What did she want? Last night she’d come to the conclusion she wanted to see Javy again, to see if that quick start of excitement was due only to the emotions of the wedding, but now, with his restaurant in shambles, satisfying her curiosity seemed selfish.
Her breath caught when she turned back and nearly bumped into him. He’d moved closer as she focused on the damage, and now stood mere inches away. Dark circles lined his eyes, and a hint of beard shadowed his jaw, evidence of the first of many long nights and the hard work ahead.
“I want …” You, she thought, the fluttering in her belly proof of the unspoken words. But of course, she couldn’t admit that. She’d tried telling herself her rash and reckless behavior was nothing more than a reaction to her former fiancé's betrayal. But she’d been unable to push aside the thought that last night had far more to do with Javier Delgado than it did with Todd.
After all, during their engagement, Todd had kissed her good-night countless times, and not once had Emily given in to the urgency to take that kiss beyond a bedroom doorway. Like their wedding, their wedding night was to have been perfectly arranged, a night filled with flowers, candles and champagne. But all the romantic staging in the world couldn’t add what Javy’s kiss had shown her had been missing from her relationship with Todd—unplanned, unstaged, undeniable desire.
Admitting that to herself was bad enough; admitting it to Javy would be giving him an advantage he didn’t need.
“I, um, want to hear more about how you’re going to fix the restaurant,” she said lamely, recalling the conversation she’d interrupted when she first arrived.
Javy didn’t immediately respond, and Emily reminded herself that his dark eyes couldn’t possibly see the thoughts bouncing wildly through her brain … or the desire doing a far more seductive slide through her body. She wasn’t entirely sure she believed it, though, and was relieved when he finally answered.
“Most of it will be cleanup and demolition before I can move on to the repairs. And …”
His voice trailed away as he looked around, and he dug his hands into the back pockets of his faded jeans, showing an uncertainty she hadn’t seen in him before. This other side, this shy, almost boyish side charmed whatever small part of her that hadn’t already been won over by his confident, almost cocky attitude.
“I’d like to do some remodeling.” He shrugged. “As big of a disaster as this is, it would be the perfect opportunity. We’ll have to close down while we make the repairs, so why not make some improvements, as well?”
“Like what?”
He waved a hand to a doorway off the main dining area. “We need to upgrade the bar. Make it into more of a sports lounge. Add some flat-screen TVs, couple of pool tables, electronic dartboards. It’s way too small right now, but we could steal space from the patio. Of course, that would mean building a new outdoor area, but there’s room if we take away a small section of the parking lot. It would be a lot of work but …”
“You could do all that? Tear down walls and everything?”
“Tearing ‘em down is easy. Building them back up takes a little more skill. But I have a cousin who works construction. I know Alex would want to be in on the job. And the staff here. They could help out with trips to the hardware store and hauling supplies. That would make a big difference.”
Emily thought the biggest difference would be keeping his employees involved while the restaurant was closed and they were otherwise out of work. But judging by the casual way he spoke, Javy wasn’t looking for praise.
“Seems like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” she offered, although he didn’t sound as excited as she would have expected.
He gave a short laugh. “Probably more than I should. Maria isn’t big on change. I know she’ll want everything back the way it was … like nothing ever happened.” Despite the easy grin he flashed her, the spark in his dark eyes when he talked about the remodeling had faded.
“I’m sure if you talked to your mother about it, you could change her mind. You could convince her that it will be better than before.”
His handsome features twisted with a wry smile. “There is no better than before.”
Emily wondered what he meant by that, but his cell phone rang and, after a quick apology, he started talking to the insurance company before she had a chance to ask.
As Javy walked into the back office in search of a policy number, Emily took a moment to focus on the restaurant instead of on the damage. A series of photographs covering a wall of the front lobby caught her eye and helped her see beyond the disarray to how the place looked on a typical busy night. Some of the pictures had the faded yellow tint of age, but even without that telltale sign, she could have guessed the timeline by the fashions. She smiled at the sight of large mustaches, feathered hair and bell-bottoms.
In more recent shots, she could almost feel the energy pulsing from the vibrant pictures that caught waiters and waitresses with loaded trays as they ducked between crowded tables filled with laughing patrons. In a few of the frames, she spotted Javy. He wore what she assumed was the typical male uniform, a white button-down shirt and black pants, a sharp contrast to the colorful