The Right Bed?. Wendy Etherington
with women who were willing to remake themselves into whatever they thought he wanted.
Jake smiled. He’d known Caley for years and what you saw with her was what you got. Even now, he imagined that she was just as stubborn and opinionated and determined as she’d been as a kid. God, he’d always admired her. She was the only girl he’d ever met who challenged him.
Her hand moved down his back, her palm warm against his skin, then slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers. He held his breath as she moved her fingers forward, to his hip. Though he hadn’t woken up to a morning erection, he’d managed to remedy that situation in quick order by kissing her.
He pulled her beneath him, his fingers still tangled in her hair and molding her mouth to his. Her hips rubbed against his, his shaft hot and hard between them. There was something so exciting about touching her, something almost forbidden.
“Jake,” she whispered.
The sound of his name on her lips was like fuel on a fire. His desire surged and his kiss deepened, his tongue plunging into her mouth hungrily.
This was Caley, the girl he’d known all his life, the girl he’d so carefully avoided. But she could be his, here in this bed. There was nothing to stop them. In the past, the time had never seemed right, but now, every instinct in his body screamed that the time was perfect.
As he kissed her, he found himself caught up in a fantasy that he’d lived a thousand times in his dreams. He slipped his hand beneath her T-shirt and gently cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb across her nipple through the silky fabric of her bra.
She shuddered, then arched against him, but still her eyes were closed. An uneasy feeling came over him and for a moment, he thought she might be asleep and dreaming. Jake drew back and stared down at her face, watching her as he continued to caress her breast. “Caley?”
“Jake?” she murmured.
“Open your eyes.”
Her lashes fluttered. She looked at him, at first with a blank stare and then with growing confusion.
“Morning,” he murmured.
Caley frowned and rubbed her eyes with her fists. A cry of alarm slipped from her lips and then, in a rush, she pushed away from him, tumbling backward onto the floor, her bare legs tangling in the comforter. “Wh-what are you doing in my bed?”
“I think the more appropriate question would be, what are you doing in my bed?”
“Not your bed. This is Emma’s room. It’s her bed.” She blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “And you’re not her.”
“Emma’s staying at the inn in town so she can have a little peace and quiet. Our house was full, so your mother offered me the last empty bed.”
Her phone rang again and Caley looked around the room, then crawled across the floor to retrieve her purse. She watched him warily as she flipped open the phone. “Hello?”
Jake grinned at her, letting his gaze take in her long, naked legs and the lacy black panties. Yes, the gangly teenager was gone, replaced by a long-limbed, incredibly sexy woman.
“Yes, John. I understand. No, I’ll get right on it. You’ll have it by the end of the day. All right. You, too. Goodbye.” She closed the phone.
“Boyfriend?”
“Boss,” she murmured. “You were in this bed last night. With me?”
Jake nodded. Oh, hell, she had been asleep. “Yes. But I wasn’t with you. Not in the biblical sense. We were just next to each other. And then, well, then you woke up.” The last thing he needed was Caley to go running downstairs, accusing him of being a pervert. “Hey, it was an honest mistake. It was dark. I looked like your sister. How could you have known?”
A frown wrinkled her forehead. “Then we weren’t just … I wasn’t … Nothing happened, right?”
Jake winced. “Well, there was a little something, but that was an honest mistake, as well. I just kind of assumed you’d crawled in bed with me for a reason, so—”
She touched her lips. “You kissed me?”
“But you kissed me back. And there was some localized touching going on, but only through the clothes. Except you did put your hand down my boxers.”
Her phone rang again. Caley opened her mouth and snapped it shut, then looked at the caller ID. This time, she decided not to answer. Instead, she grabbed the corner of the comforter and pulled it off the bed to cover herself, leaving him in nothing but those boxers. She watched him warily, waiting for him to make the next move.
“Did you think I was someone else?” he asked.
“Yes,” she snapped. But from the guilty look on her face, he could tell she was lying.
“Some other guy named Jake?”
“Yes. I happen to know three or four other Jakes.”
He grabbed a corner of the comforter and pulled it over his lap. It would be hard to sell the “nothing happened” story with a raging hard-on pressing against the front of his boxers. Jake cleared his throat and forced a smile. “So, how have you been? It’s been a while. How long? Eleven years?”
She nodded, clutching the comforter to her chest. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath was coming in quick gasps. And her hair, thick and wavy, was tumbled about her shoulders. She’d never looked more beautiful. Jake’s gaze drifted down, stopping at the perfectly painted toes peeking out from under the blanket. She’d always had really pretty feet. He’d spent a lot of time looking at her feet when he was younger, simply to avoid looking at her breasts, which were also pretty incredible.
“Your mother said you wouldn’t be arriving until this morning,” he commented.
“I decided to drive directly from the airport. When did you get in?”
“Yesterday,” he said. “So, what have you been up to?”
“Not much,” she replied. “Just working. I’m still with that public relations firm that I joined right out of college. I was made partner last month. What about you?”
“I have my own design firm now. I’m doing mostly residential architecture. I kind of specialize in vacation homes based on classic camp designs.”
“Interesting.” She drew in a sharp breath, impatient with the idle chitchat. “What are you doing home? Why would you want to come to my parents’ anniversary party?”
A slow realization dawned. Emma hadn’t told her what was going on. Jake wondered if he ought to be the one to break the happy news or if she should hear it over the breakfast table. For now, it might prove a distraction from what had just happened. “This isn’t an anniversary party,” Jake said. “It’s Emma and Sam.”
She frowned at the mention of Jake’s youngest brother. “Emma and Sam?”
“They’re getting married.”
At first she gasped, then regarded him with disbelief. This was the Caley he remembered. She always found a way to disagree with him, even if he was only claiming the sun rose in the east and set in the west. “Not funny.”
“It’s the truth,” Jake said. “That’s why we’re all here. It’s going to be a small wedding at the Episcopal Church in town on Valentine’s evening. She’s got the dress and they’ve got the license.”
“They aren’t even dating,” Caley said.
“I guess they have been. They’ve been secretly seeing each other for the past three summers. They didn’t want anyone to know. You know how our mothers are and how they’ve dreamed about making a match between the Lamberts and the Burtons. They got engaged on New Year’s and decided to get married right away, before Fran and Jean could plan a big event.”
“But