Doubtful he’d imagined losing it to her. But if she had to go through with this foolishness, she intended to keep the damned thing as her own trophy.
Carm glanced down at the bouquet she’d caught minutes ago, wondering if she could hand it off to someone else and let them take her place in the hot seat. The literal hot seat.
She always strove to stay in the background quietly and efficiently running things, but never felt comfortable making herself the center of attention. But the longer she prolonged the inevitable, the more scrutiny she was going to receive.
Suck it up, buttercup. You’re going to bring more attention to yourself if you balk.
With a sigh, Carm handed her bouquet to Cassie, asking her to hold it until this was over, and accepted Tony’s proffered hand. It was warm compared to hers, probably because she was in the beginning stages of fight-or-flight mode. He grinned as if he’d won some kind of victory as he guided her to the chair Angelina had recently vacated.
Didn’t this silly wedding tradition merely state that the woman who caught the bouquet and the man who caught the garter would be the next to marry? She’d never been to a reception where this reversal had taken place. Where had Marc and Angelina found this emcee?
“Same rules apply, Tony!” Matteo yelled. “No hands on the garter!”
Just what she was afraid of. Not that she was a prude by any stretch, but the thought of Tony Giardano’s scruffy cheek, chin, and mouth rasping up her leg to place the garter high on her thigh made her stomach curl into knots.
Carm bit back a groan, refusing to acknowledge that tingle she felt between her legs. She wasn’t remotely attracted to Tony, the most irrepressible man she’d ever met. Perhaps she was just used to being able to handle the men in her life a little more easily—or at least know what behaviors to expect from them.
Why did Tony make her so nervous? He wasn’t predictable, for one reason. Would he do something outrageous in order to gain a laugh at her expense? Their disdain for one another was mutual, judging by the countless times they’d clashed over the past eight months while helping to negotiate between the families for this wedding. They might have become in-laws today, but that didn’t mean they had to like one another. But she grudgingly admired how loyal he was to his sister and family.
Taking a deep breath, Carm sat down as the image of Tony’s mouth on her leg made her face grow even hotter, if that were possible. Her tea-length bridesmaid dress didn’t cover nearly enough of her leg at the moment. And all too soon, Tony’s head would be under that skirt. Taking fate into her own hands, she hiked the dress up above her knees. At least she could control that much of this fiasco.
“Let’s get this over with, T.G.”
What the…? She loved giving nicknames to people she liked, but that one just popped out of nowhere. How did she expect to bring Tony’s enormous ego down a peg or two if she encouraged him in any way? She wanted this over with as quickly as he did.
“A little anticipation is good for you, bella.”
Where had she heard that before? Marc, that’s where. Her older brother chuckled nearby, but Carm kept her focus on the man in front of her instead. Maybe Tony was enjoying this more than she’d expected him to.
Don’t let him see you sweat.
Squaring her shoulders, she asked, “What’s the matter? Afraid of something, T.G.?”
Great. Throw down the gauntlet in front of this macho Italian male, Carm.
Grinning, Tony inched the garter down his sleeve to his wrist, never breaking eye contact with her. He knelt in front of her chair. Instead of going right to work, he supported her calf as he slipped the high-heeled sandal off her foot.
“Don’t want your heel getting in my way, principessa.”
Princess?
Was he tossing about endearments as payback for her giving him a nickname? Before she could make a determination, Tony’s thumbs rubbed the ball of her foot until a moan escaped her.
Those shoes had been killing her for hours as she fulfilled her bridesmaid duties on top of making sure everything ran smoothly here at the reception. Between wedding crashers and the incessant one-upmanship between factions from both families, she was happy to be off her feet.
But she couldn’t believe Tony had made her moan. Out loud! Sandro wasn’t going to let her live that down for the next year. Carmella needed to keep her guard up if she was going to get this over without further embarrassment.
“Hurry up, T.G.,” she hissed under her breath.
Holding her calf in the palm of his warm hand, Tony placed the garter between his teeth and lowered his head to slip it past her toes. The lace tickled her instep, and she jerked, but he didn’t stop. Above ankle level, he lowered her foot to the floor causing the garter to slip from his teeth. He nipped at her ankle in an effort to retrieve it again. Had he dropped the garter intentionally?
I wouldn’t put it past him.
The garter made its way ever so slowly up her calf, while Tony’s warm breath and stubble raised goosebumps along its journey. He lost his grasp on the lace again at her knee.
Enough already.
Tony clearly had no intention of getting this over quickly. The garter was far enough up her leg. Carm leaned forward to stand up in an attempt to put an end to this ridiculous display.
“Sit,” Tony commanded. “I’m not finished yet.” The forceful words coming from a jokester like Tony caught her by surprise. She’d never taken him seriously before. He’d always reminded her too much of her fun-loving brother Sandro; she
