Not Another Wedding. Jennifer McKenzie

seemed pleasant, but he wasn’t interested.

      Beck watched Poppy’s butt as she slipped through the large sliding doors that led from the patio into the house. Now, there was a woman he found interesting.

      He followed behind her a minute later.

      The sliding doors opened into a spacious great room with a state-of-the-art entertainment system. Beck knew because he’d personally picked out the equipment for Jamie last Christmas. He might not spend a lot of time with his family, but he never skimped on gifts. He was pleased to see Jamie using it.

      The music and chatter from the backyard quieted as he closed the door and moved farther into the house. He knew the layout well since Jamie had grown up here and in the summer Beck had too.

      They’d spent their days racing from the pool to the kitchen and back again, sliding across the tile floor and ignoring their mothers’ warnings to be careful or they were going to crack their heads open.

      When Jamie had decided to turn the acreage into a winery a few years ago, he’d bought his mother out and moved back in. She’d purchased a small cottage closer to town and her weekly quilting club, which Beck knew only because he’d been roped into helping his aunt move. His insistence that it would cost him less to hire professional movers had fallen on deaf ears, and he’d found himself spending the weekend moving boxes from one house to the other.

      Until yesterday, that had been the last time he’d seen his aunt. He should probably make more of an effort. She’d always been good to him. But he didn’t have a lot of free time, and his responsibilities kept him busy in Seattle. He shouldn’t feel guilty because he didn’t spend his weekends flying in to be with his extended family.

      No sign of Poppy in the main room or the kitchen, which were attached in one long open space. He headed down the short hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom.

      And there she was.

      Standing in front of the closed bathroom door, her hands locked together in a tight grip. A thin strip of light shone from beneath the door. Obviously, she was waiting. Beck thought she needed some company.

      “Hello again.”

      She whirled to face him and scowled. “Do you mind?” She stepped back, bumping into the wall. “I’m busy here.”

      “Really?” He raised an eyebrow. She didn’t look busy.

      “Yes, really.” She scowled and rubbed the shoulder she’d banged. “Go bug someone else.”

      He placed his hand over hers. Her skin was soft and made him want to touch. “Are you okay?”

      “I’m fine.” She shifted to the side, out of his reach. “And do you mind not pawing me?”

      In fact, he did mind. But he simply shrugged. He hadn’t come here to antagonize her.

      “What do you want anyway?”

      Her. In his bed. Again. But he didn’t think she’d like hearing that.

      “I came in here for some peace and quiet.” Not a total lie—he was avoiding another run-in with his mother—just not the total truth. “You seem pretty angry with me for someone who claims not to remember me.”

      The lines around her mouth deepened. “Fine, I remember you.”

      “It’s been a long time.” He leaned back against the wall opposite her. “Do I get a hello kiss?”

      She snorted, but he caught the way her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “In your dreams.”

      “Come on, a couple of old friends reuniting for the first time in a decade? I think a kiss is required.”

      She tossed her hair. “We were never friends.”

      True. They’d been much, much more. His blood pounded at the memory. “Oh, I recall us getting pretty friendly one summer.” He peeled himself off the wall and ran his fingers through her fiery mass of hair. Still as silky as he remembered. “Very friendly.”

      “Beck—”

      “Yes.” He lowered his head. She smelled the same, like lavender. He inhaled, his entire body recalling how her scent used to wrap around him when she laid her head on his chest.

      “Get lost,” she told him.

      “Hey now. What’s with the attitude?”

      Her eyes pinned him, like a bug she’d like to crush beneath those pretty heels. “You seriously don’t remember?”

      “I remember a lot of things. Why don’t you tell me which memory we’re talking about?” His particular favorite had taken place in the now-finished guesthouse where he was staying for the week. He wouldn’t mind reliving that part of his youth.

      “You never called me.”

      He frowned. “Pardon?”

      “You never called me. After.” She poked him in the chest. “You didn’t even say goodbye. You just left.”

      “I meant to, but my mother—” He stopped. She was right. He’d never called. “There were extenuating circumstances.”

      “I’m sure.” Her lips puckered and not in the lean-down-and-kiss-me-big-boy way he was hoping for.

      “Would it help if I apologized?”

      “You have to ask?” She shook her head and her scent rolled over him. “Forget it. It happened a long time ago. I’m over it.”

      “I can see that.”

      She flicked her hair again. “I don’t want to be friends, Beck.”

      “What if I do?”

      “Why would you?” Her eyebrows drew together. “Are you trying to flatter me? Is this to show me you still find me appealing?”

      “Yes,” he admitted.

      She laughed. “Obviously, you haven’t changed. Why don’t you run along, find some other woman to work your charms on?” She made a flicking motion with her fingers. “Maybe she’ll enjoy your attention.”

      Maybe so, but Beck wasn’t going anywhere. She’d challenged him. Him and his manhood, and he didn’t intend to back down. “I don’t want another woman.” He placed a hand on the wall. “I want you.”

      “I’m not available.”

      “You married?” He didn’t do married. Not in any way, shape or form.

      There was a small pause, a smaller sigh. “No, but that doesn’t mean I’m available.”

      He smiled, more sure of himself now, and edged closer to her. “A serious boyfriend?” When she didn’t respond, he risked touching her hair again. “Not one of those either. You’re single.”

      “I’m still not available.”

      “I can change that.”

      She opened her mouth, no doubt to say something snarky that would be an attempt to put him in his place but would only serve to heighten his interest, when the bathroom door opened.

      “Hey, guys.” Jamie stepped out.

      Hell. Beck didn’t think of himself as a violent man, but he could have happily punched his cousin for interrupting. He’d just been getting somewhere or, at least, close enough to touch more than her hair.

      But now? Now she’d turned all her attention to his cousin, hugging him hello and jabbering about how much she’d missed him. Though Beck did appreciate the view of her dress riding up in the back, showing off her sleek legs.

      The two spoke for a minute while Beck waited. He wasn’t finished with Poppy yet, despite the sharp little frowns she kept shooting his way. They didn’t bother him in the slightest. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.