Elena’s Night With The Best Man

The soft glow of string lights still twinkled across the resort’s private beach as Elena slipped away from the rehearsal dinner. Her fiancé, David, had disappeared twenty minutes earlier for yet another “quick call” with his Tokyo office, leaving her standing alone in her tight emerald silk dress while guests slowly drifted back to their rooms. The fabric clung to every curve of her body—low-cut neckline, backless, the hem skimming high on her toned thighs. She felt exposed. Desired. Neglected.

Marcus was waiting by the elevator, jacket slung over one shoulder, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. At thirty-two he looked even more dangerous than he had at twenty-five when she’d first met him—broad shoulders, sharp jaw, dark eyes that had always lingered a beat too long on her mouth, her breasts, the sway of her hips. He smiled like a man who already knew how the night would end.

“David bailed again?” he asked, voice low and warm.

Elena exhaled a laugh that sounded more like surrender. “He’ll be in the suite until two a.m. if the markets in Asia don’t settle.”

Marcus’s gaze slid down her body and back up, slow enough that she felt it like fingers. “Shame. A woman in that dress shouldn’t have to drink alone.”