The Wedding Gift
Save The Date #3.5
By: Cara Connelly
Releasing May 5, 2015
Avon
The Wedding Gift
The Wedding Gift
Save The Date Series
What's the New-Jan-Plan? Discover the answer in Cara Connelly's newest Save The Date Novella, and see how mousey Jan Marone gives herself the gift of living, laughing, and finally loving … all under the hot Key West sun.
She'd come to Key West for a wedding, only to discover the hotel had messed up her reservation. So although Jan Marone has to share a tiny room with sexy Mick McKenna, it shouldn't really be a problem. Mick's her best friend, and he doesn't think of her "that way" … or does he?
Mick McKenna loves hard and plays hard. His thick black hair, chiseled jaw, and hard, muscled body make him irresistible. But when once-innocent Jan walks into his hotel room, Mick can't believe his eyes. Now she's wearing a sexy bikini and telling him it's time for her to "get lucky," making him protective and tantalized at the same time.
Worried she might be in over her head, he decides never to leave her side … and suddenly their hotel room seems smaller—and hotter—than ever. Mick's always been hands-off with Jan—but has the right woman been under his nose the whole time?
A
quick glance around revealed the limited amenities: modest flatscreen
on the wall; dorm-sized fridge; and a tiny bureau that doubled as a
nightstand, holding a digital clock and small lamp. At the foot of
the queen bed, Mick’s suitcase flopped open on a narrow bench.
Jan
sidled along the bedside and closed herself in the world’s smallest
bathroom: a budget-sized toilet wedged between a teacup sink and a
phone-booth shower stall.
Everything was clean as a whistle,
but one wrong move and she’d have black and blue funny bones in the
wedding photos.
Washing
her hands in the teacup, she made the mistake of looking into the
mirror above it.
“Hello,
palest person in Key West. And your hair.” Six hours on three
airplanes, and her bun straggled like spaghetti.
Unwrapping the scrunchie that bound
it, she ran her fingers through the light brown waves. Humidity or
not, she was wearing it down this weekend.
In
fact, she was wearing it down from now on. “I’m done with the
bun,” she rapped to the mirror, and tossed the scrunchie into the
trash.
Day
One of the New-Jan Plan.
Out
in the bedroom, she found Mick stretched out on the mattress, hands
locked behind his head, watching a Simpson’s rerun.
“You’re
getting the bed wet,” she said automatically.
“It’ll
dry.”
That
was Mick, never worrying about anything, while she worried about
everything. And where had it gotten her? Out on the street, that’s
where, while he was tucked up in Paradise.
Which
was exactly why she was changing her old, boring ways. They weren’t
working for her. At. All.
“Wow.”
From Mick. “Your hair got long.”
“Eh.”
She plopped down next to him. “Hair grows.”
“It’s
just that you never wear it down.” He reached out and rubbed the
ends between his fingers. “Soft.”
She
eyed him. Sometimes she wondered about Mick. They’d been friends
since kindergarten, through the years when boys and girls were
supposed to hate each other, even through high school when he was the
quarterback and she was a dork.
Twelve
years out, he was still captain of the team, so to speak. Fire
Captain at his Engine Company, a bona fide hero with a shiny new
Medal of Valor, and a mother’s lifelong gratitude for rescuing her
eight-year-old.
Meanwhile Jan was still fighting
dorkyness. Still too skinny, too nerdy, too plain to be anything more
than his buddy, his pal.
But
sometimes … sometimes when he looked at her the way he was looking
at her now
…
Nah.
She locked it down. She wasn’t Mick’s type. And truthfully, he
wasn’t hers either. If she ever found a guy, he’d be white collar
all the way. A lawyer or an accountant. Not someone who risked his
life every day.
Her
mother had that much of it right. Yes, she was controlling, neurotic,
and paranoid. But about marrying a man with a dangerous job, Jan’s
mother could speak with authority.
Knuckles
rapped the door, and Mick hopped up and opened it to the blond from
the desk. “Hey, Barbie.”
Barbie?
Seriously?
Barbie’s
gaze tracked slowly from Mick’s bare chest up to his lips. “Hi,
Mick.” Breathless.
Jan
rolled her eyes and did a finger wave. “Looking for me? Did you
find me a room?”
Barbie
dragged her gaze away from Mick. “Um, no. No rooms.”
“Nowhere
on the island?” Mick dragged a hand through his hair. “This is
bullshit,” he declared to the world at large.
“I’m
so sorry.” Barbie sounded genuinely sympathetic—on Mick’s
account, not Jan’s. “The whole island’s been booked for months.
Even if someone cancels, everyplace has a waiting list. There’s
nothing I can do.”
“Thanks
for trying.” Mick melted Barbie with a smile. “I’m turning my
room over to Jan. I’ll figure something out for myself.”
Jan
popped up. “Wait just a minute—”
Barbie
steamrolled her. “I’ve got a spare room at my place,” she said
to Mick. “You can crash with me.”
“No.”
Jan wagged her head definitively. “No no no no no.”
Mick
had a way of pissing women off. Not completely his fault, since he
never made any promises. The problem was, Mick loved women. He
couldn’t help making them feel special, and their imaginations ran
away with it.
Then,
when he didn’t fall in with their plans, things went downhill with
a bullet.
All
Julie’s wedding needed was Barbie storming the reception and
dumping the cake over Mick’s head. Julie would lay the disaster at
Jan’s door, because Mick was her wedding guest.
But
Barbie was clueless, batting lashes as long as her namesake’s.
“Really, Mick, I don’t mind.”
“I
mind,” Jan said, sounding more possessive than she meant to.
Mick
must have picked up on it, because he flicked his gaze her way, a
quick bolt of blue that could steal an unsuspecting woman’s breath.
Her
clothes were sure to follow.
But
Jan wasn’t an unsuspecting woman. She’d been there from the
beginning, keeping herself out of harm’s way as Mick learned to
handle his sexual mojo, wielding it like a blunt instrument in high
school, and like a light saber ever since.
Sometimes, like now, he carelessly
swung it in her direction.
Ignoring
the sting, she took one for the bride and groom.
“Thanks
anyway,” she said to Barbie, “but Mick’s staying right here
with me.”
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