Unlike her, while the wedding guests continued to call for a kiss, he didn’t bother to hide his scowl. Of course, that just made him look even sexier. “Why not?”
Reasons! She clamped her mouth shut before that inanity escaped and called it a victory. Knowing the right thing to say at the right time had never been one of her gifts, so the fact that she managed to keep her trap shut was a total win. When he raised one dark eyebrow in question, she scrambled to come up with something besides because you’re too hot.
“I’m working,” she said.
Ford cocked his head and gave her some premium cop face, that blank suspicious stare that all but screamed you’re full of shit. “You don’t think our fine groom, Porter, was on shift when he met Meg at the emergency room after a guy he was arresting took a swing at him with a two-by-four? It’s just a kiss, and then they’ll move on to the next victim.”
She turned her attention back to the big screen display of this horribly awkward moment rather than meeting Ford’s unwavering gaze.
“Do not disrespect the Kiss Cam, Hartigan!” someone bellowed out as the chanting crowd grew more restless. And louder.
“One quick kiss,” he said, his tone grim with a thread of something more vulnerable underneath. “Then, they’ll leave us alone.”
That’s when Gina’s gaze moved from her own face, blotchy with embarrassment on the screen, over to him. The tips of his ears were scarlet, and he was tapping the tips of his middle finger and thumb together like he was keeping rhythm for a ska band.
He was hiding it better, but the reality was he wasn’t enjoying this anymore than she was.
Glancing from the screen to the actual man himself, her lungs tightened. He was a big guy, and she wasn’t just talking about his broad shoulders that filled out his tux to a mouthwatering degree. He had to have at least four inches on her own five foot ten.
He glanced down, making eye contact, and for a second they weren’t the hottie and the nottie. They were two people stuck in a completely socially awkward situation that they had no control over.
She nibbled the inside of her cheek and considered her options before deciding that Ford was right. A quick peck would get the videographer out of their faces and divert the boisterous crowd’s attention to another couple happier to indulge in this bit of insanity. Then, she could finish up the last of her duties and go home to her peaceful, if totally messy, mid-renovation Victorian.
She let out a shaky breath, not sure she was making the right decision. “Fine. A kiss. Whatever.”
Gina had barely gotten the words out when his large hands cupped her face, sending electric shock waves through her that made her lips part slightly with surprise. He dipped his head down—and he kissed her.
The roar of approval from the crowd faded to almost nothing when he seemed to groan involuntarily. Her body approved and made an answering sound of its own. At her encouragement, his tongue slicked across her bottom lip, and her mind lost all reasonable thought. Teasing her senses and sending her heartbeat into overdrive, she softened against him, practically melting against his hard, muscular chest. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered that people were cheering. She just couldn’t for the life of her care. The world turned electric and the air practically vibrated against her skin as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept against hers in a brief but oh-so-potent move that had her clutching his lapel before she’d even realized she’d lifted her hands.
Then, almost as soon as it began, he lifted his head and stepped back, breaking the connection.
Dazed, she released his tuxedo jacket and looked around, catching sight of herself on the giant screen. Her face was flushed and her eyes hazy. She pressed her fingers to her still-tingling lips. She looked like a woman who’d been kissed senseless, which made sense because that was exactly what had just happened.
Thankfully, the videographer—whom she would not be subcontracting out to again—moved on to another couple.
Just when she thought the whole situation couldn’t get any more awkward, she and Ford were left staring at each other after the crowd’s attention turned to the next couple being projected onto the screen. Ford’s tux lapels were wrinkled, which just made the fact that his bowtie hung undone from around his open collar hotter, as if he’d just had a quickie in a linen closet. He’d probably done that at some point in his life. Gina had read about it. Did that count?
Nope. Not at all.
Ford cleared his throat. She tried to smile, but her mouth was so dry her lips sort of stuck to her teeth. Oh God, this wasn’t completely uncomfortable at all.
She should say something, preferably something smart and witty, like…her brain went totally blank. She had nothing. Who were these women who always said the right thing at the right time, and how could she learn their ways? Maybe there was an online class for the socially inept?
Ford rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”
“What?” Oh, brilliant, Regina. You should be teaching a snappy banter class.
He shook his head. “I should have known something was up when Ruggiero and Gallo slipped the video guy money and then hightailed it out of here.”
“Well, it’s over with now,” she said, pulling herself mentally together. “Thank God.”
“Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”
And there went all the work she’d done to get her brain back online. A drink? With her? This hot guy and her? In a heartbeat, her brain waves were all static and nothingness. Of course, that’s the exact moment when words came out of her mouth anyway: “It’s an open bar.”
His half-smile faltered.
Shit. He’d probably been trying to not be an asshole about the whole thing, and she’d given his peace offering the middle finger. Smooth move, Regina.
She took a quick step back, desperate for escape before she made a bigger idiot of herself. “I’ve gotta go finish up some things.”
His gaze dropped to her lips as he started to tap his finger and thumb together again. “Maybe another time.”
Like that was gonna happen. Women who looked like her didn’t end up with hot guys like him—especially not when the him in question was a cop and her family had ties to the we-never-met-a-law-we-didn’t-want-to-break Esposito family. Her overprotective brothers would lose their shit if she even hinted at dating a cop. Yeah, Ford Hartigan was straight up only jilling off material.
“Doubtful,” she said, turning and not running but walking away from the scene of her latest humiliation as fast as her kitten heels could take her.
…
What in the hell were you thinking to slip her the tongue, Hartigan? Have you totally lost it?
Finally escaping the never-ending wedding reception and still wondering just how bad his kiss must have been for the wedding planner to have blown him off without a second thought, Ford walked through the hotel lobby, searching for the chuckleheads who’d made the whole Kiss Cam thing happen.
Shocking absolutely no one, he spotted detectives Johnnie Gallo and Tony Ruggiero at the hotel’s bar, sipping amaretto sours through cocktail straws like sorority girls at happy hour.
Like the jackasses they were, Gallo and Ruggiero raised their glasses in salute as he approached.
“Feeling all hot and bothered there, Hartigan?” Ruggiero asked, his shit-eating grin as wide as his ass, which had seen four thousand too many doughnuts. “Or did you come for some bleach Chapstick to sterilize your lips?”
He and Gallo bent over on their barstools and slapped the shiny bar as they laughed. And this was the brain trust that ran point on the Esposito case for the organized crime task force. Or as he liked to think of it: bear claws versus cannolis.
“She’s not bad-looking,” Ford said, hoping like hell this conversation would end with that.