The waitress looked from Mandy to Ty—and stayed looking at Ty—as she said her congratulations. Ty did that to women. Attracted them. And she, damn it, was no exception. This time she took a gulp of champagne.
“I’d go for some cake,” Harold spoke up.
“Cake all around. And coffee,” Sheila ordered. “No fuss, though. This is just a celebration for us,” she told the waitress. Looking at Mandy’s barely touched salad and the half-filled glass of champagne, Sheila frowned. “And my daughter’s not finished with her salad yet, so leave that plate,” she said as the busboy the waitress had signaled over began clearing.
“You need to eat something, Mandy. You barely ate breakfast this morning,” Sheila said above the clacking of plates being cleared.
Mandy felt a funny swaying in her head. Maybe she should eat something. “I’ll have the cake.”
From under the table she felt Ty’s hand on her thigh. She should remove it, but the swaying in her head prevented her. She turned to look at him and felt a little dizzy again as she stared into dark lust-filled eyes at odds with his amused grin. Under the table, his hand brushed the hem of her dress up her thigh and then landed back on bare flesh. Her legs uncrossed.
His thumb swirled over her skin, focusing her attention on that spot on her inner thigh, worrying that he would move it even higher. Then what would she do?
“You’re going to love dessert. What follows the main event, Mandy, is always the best part,” he said. The heat flushing through her body had her wondering if he wasn’t right.
*
Married. Certainly not where he had expected to find himself, Ty thought as he gazed into the steamed glass of the bathroom mirror. He wiped off the fog, creating a watery space, and glared at the somber face that stared back at him. What had he been thinking? Problem was, he’d let his dick do his thinking—and that had never worked out well for him.
He and Mandy were sharing a bedroom, like the will said, but not a bed. They’d wrangled over whether to use the ranch house’s guestroom, which Mrs. Jenkins had already made ready for them, with its king-sized bed and its own bathroom situated next to her grandfather’s room, or the smaller bedroom down the hall with twin beds and a bathroom shared with a vacant room on the opposite side.
With arms crossed and heat in her cheeks, Mandy had been adamant it would be the twin beds. After dinner and several glasses of champagne at the Cattle Baron’s Grille, he thought she’d be primed for tonight. He’d been wrong.
He’d given in on the bedroom issue, for this evening at least.
Tomorrow they’d hit the road to meet with the various rodeo committees and offer assurances. They’d be staying in hotel rooms. He had to get lucky and have at least one place where they would have a room with a single bed. He’d make sure of it.
Tonight he’d just have to steel himself to frustration. Not quite how he would have guessed his wedding night would go, but then he’d never imagined it. Mandy must have. Every woman he’d met had thought about her wedding day at some time. Getting married in an office with only Brian, Shelia, and Harold to witness and before a strange judge must have been quite a letdown for her. He swiped a towel across his chin and secured a larger towel around his waist.
He’d always slept in the nude. He had no plans on changing. He’d use the towel to be discreet, but it wasn’t like she’d never seen a man before. And he had no problem with her checking him out. He had nothing to hide in that department.
She wasn’t in the bedroom, though the bed closest to the bank of windows had been turned down. He went and opened one of the windows. The soft cooling breeze of a late spring evening fluttered the sheer curtains. He looked around the yellow-walled room. It was simply furnished, containing two beds with old-fashioned iron headboards painted cream and covered in white bedspreads, one maple dresser, and a small vanity in the same wood. Obviously a room meant for JM’s grandkids when they were young. Not for someone’s wedding night.
Why had JM put him smack-dab in the middle of such a mess? It was one thing to want financial security for your family, but a whole other kettle of fish to try to play matchmaker to two people who were temperamentally unsuitable for each other.
Nothing to do but go to bed, he figured. They would be flying out in his plane at eleven the next morning and heading for Abilene, Texas, to talk to the folks there, and then they’d hit three more stops before flying back on Friday so they could make a Saturday rodeo Prescott was putting on in Washington. It would be a hectic week, but those Texas rodeos were influential. If the Texans held, they might not have to make more trips. Besides, there was an AFBR board member in Texas he’d like to see. He’d done a land deal with him a while back.