Step behind the hotel room doors of The Chatsfield, London…

Johanna Windsor has one rule: not sleeping with Ed Garrison tonight. Yes, he’s mouth-wateringly sexy, and yes as bridesmaid and best man they should be the perfect match. But falling into bed with him after every wedding is becoming a habit… one that really must stop!

But when a mix-up leaves Ed and Johanna alone together in a sumptuous and built-for-passion Chatsfield hotel room, Johanna’s resolve is sorely tested. And when Ed shows Johanna a side she’s never seen before, she soon decides that all rules are made to be broken!

Room 732: Bridesmaid with Benefits

Amy Andrews

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

About the Author

Discover the Chatsfield

Copyright

Chapter One

Johanna Windsor looked at the six foot two hunk of prime male perfection walking across the huge Chatsfield dance floor with wicked stamped across his mouth and sex in his eyes and thought, dear God, do not let me sleep with him.

She grabbed the hand nearest to her. ‘Do not let me sleep with him.’

Carol rolled her eyes. ‘You always sleep with him at weddings. That’s what you and Ed do. It’s your…thing.’

Johanna shook her head. She and Ed needed a new thing. ‘Not this time.’

‘Okay.’

Johanna crossed her arms and glared at her old college friend and fellow bridesmaid. Carol was clearly not convinced.

‘Three times, that’s all. Three times in two years.’

‘Yes.’ Carol nodded. ‘Three times. Three weddings. Three for three.’ She held up three fingers. ‘It’s fate. You shouldn’t fight it.’

Johanna snorted. Sod that. She’d had a crush on Edward Garrison since high school – fate had taken its own sweet time. And now it was time to stop. Ed bloody Garrison could keep his big, sexy, skilled hands off her fate.

‘He’s getting closer,’ Johanna whispered as she stepped instinctively nearer to Carol.

Why she felt compelled to do so, Johanna had no idea. It wasn’t as if there was malice in his gaze – quite the contrary. The man was looking at her like he wanted to make her come six ways to Sunday.

Considering Ed had been responsible for the last truly good orgasm she’d had, she should be running towards him and leaping into his arms.

But Ed Garrison didn’t need any encouragement.

Of course the fact that the man was at his most dashing in a suit that looked as if it had been hand-sewn by elves didn’t help. Not when she was, once again, in bridesmaid dress hell – burgundy taffeta with enough ruffles to put Carmen Miranda to shame.

All she needed was a bowl of fruit for her head and she was good to go.

Just her luck he got to be breathtakingly sexy and she looked like she was about to go on stage at the Copacabana.

‘Yes,’ Carol explained patiently. ‘Because it’s the bridal waltz. He is the best man and you are the maid of honour. You’ve managed to pretty much avoid him all day but you have to dance with him now.’

Dance. Johanna shivered. Sex to music. That’s what Ed had told her dancing was at wedding number one – Pete and Kelly’s.

And when they’d ended up in his hotel room, they’d danced all damn night.

‘Cheer up,’ Carol chided, as she smiled at her husband Charlie – wedding number two – and took his hand for their turn around the floor. ‘It’s Ed. The man has been a sex god since college. Why wouldn’t you go to bed with him?’

Charlie nodded his agreement. ‘She’s right. Sex gods are hard to find.’ He winked at Johanna. ‘Just me and Ed left.’

Then he whisked his wife onto the floor with a flourish which left Johanna all alone staring down the God of Sex.

Their gazes locked.

Her heart beat a little faster. Her breath hitched a little higher. Her nipples ruched a little harder.

And she thanked the bride for every one of those awful ruffles.

Ed stopped in front of her, his gaze sweeping the length of her body before shooting her one of those long, lazy smiles specifically designed to melt female underwear right away. Even those suck-everything-in monstrosities she’d been wearing at wedding three – Phil and Diana’s – because that dress had clearly been manufactured in a cling film factory.

He held out his hand to her. ‘I cannot wait to get you out of this one, Jo-Jo.’

Johanna felt her hackles rise – along with her nipples. She gave him her best haughty glare. Predictably it bounced right off his beautiful broad shoulders. And why not? The man hadn’t let three horrible bridesmaid dresses derail his intent so why should a glare be any more successful?

‘Don’t talk to me,’ she said as she took his hand and let him lead her onto the dance floor.

Johanna was discharging her maid of honour duty for Ronald and Brie – she was dancing the bridal waltz with the best man. Nowhere in the bridesmaid handbook did it say she had to converse while doing it.

And if he didn’t open his mouth he couldn’t offer any sinful invitations. Or kiss her.

Well…not properly anyway.

The slow, smoky, strains of a soul singer surrounded them and Johanna closed her ears to the seduction of the music. She kept her body stiff, made sure there was a socially respectable distance between them and looked resolutely at a point just over Ed’s shoulder, which just happened to be the balding patch at the back of the groom’s head.

But still, despite her best efforts, the surroundings slowly faded to black as the song enveloped them in its sexy embrace.

Gone were the impressive tear-drop chandeliers. The myriad fairy lights. The two hundred guests watching from the sidelines, waiting for the song to end so they could join the happy couple and the bridal party on the floor.

Johanna was conscious of none of it. Just her and Ed.

Dancing.

The familiar smell of him. The warmth of his chest, the heat radiating from his thighs, the alluring spikiness of stubble in her peripheral vision.

He stepped in a touch, invading that respectable distance, sliding his big, warm, hand onto the small of her back and pressed her closer. Johanna resisted. He tried again but she remained steadfast.

His low chuckle sent a shiver down her neck. ‘You know –’

‘I said, don’t talk to me,’ Johanna interrupted, keeping her gaze firmly planted on the back of Ronald’s head. She could do this if he just shut the hell up.

He chuckled again. ‘What, never?’

‘That’ll do for a start.’

‘Ooh,’ he murmured and she could hear the smile warming his already silky smooth voice. ‘I like it when you’re bossy.’

Johanna rolled her eyes. She was not going to be drawn into a sexually charged conversation. She was having this one dance with him then spending the rest of the night as far away from him, his elf-sewn suit and fate as possible.

‘Let’s just get through this dance, okay?’

‘Come on now,’ he said, his lips dropping far too close to the vicinity of her ear for Johanna’s comfort. ‘Is it that hard to dance with me?’

She swallowed. Dancing with him – in both senses – was the easiest thing in the world. And he knew it as well as she did. ‘Don’t talk to me.’

Another sexy chuckle. ‘I think you need to loosen up.’

The low suggestion was followed by him invading more of her personal space. His thighs brushed hers and even through the layers and layers of stupid ruffles she could feel her belly clench and her nipples stir again.

Loosen up? If she got any looser around this man Ed might as well just go ahead and put her under E for easy in his very extensive little black book.

‘I'm not having sex with you,’ she said out of complete desperation. If she said it out loud then maybe he’d believe her.

Maybe she’d believe herself.

He threw back his head and laughed this time. ‘It’s customary to wait to be asked.’

Johanna glared at him. ‘That’s the problem. You don’t ask, you just kiss me and my clothes fall off.’

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘I don’t believe you've ever objected.’

‘Of course I haven’t,’ she hissed. ‘I develop this kind of…insanity around you. It’s very annoying.’

‘So…’ he said and Johanna could already tell he was going to take the piss out of her just by the slightly amused tone of his voice. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re mad at me because your clothes fall off when I kiss you?’

Johanna knew it sounded churlish and she didn’t have an argument for her lack of reasoning. The fact was he did drive her insane and she wasn’t a masochist. So it was best to let him know up front that she wasn’t going to fall for his charming chuckle and his fabulous suit anymore.

She looked back over his shoulder. ‘Don’t talk to me.’

In a rare display of obedience, Ed graciously yielded and they danced on in silence. Johanna just wished she could relax enough to enjoy the night and take in the gorgeous ambience.

The ritzy Chatsfield Hotel had done an amazing job making the ballroom everything that Brie had wanted. Johanna knew for a fact it had cost Brie’s parents an absolute bomb.

‘Okay, so this will be a new thing for us,’ Ed said after a while. ‘Not sleeping together.’

Johanna pulled back and looked at him. A big mistake. This close up he was incredibly sexy. His square jaw covered in light brown stubble that her fingers ached to touch. Killer cheekbones that begged for the attention of her tongue. Sandy hair all tousled into a spiky do that on any other twenty-eight year old would have looked far too high school but not on Ed.

On Ed it looked stylish and sophisticated, completing his big-city, stock market hotshot look.

Which irritated her even further.

Even now – eight years later - she lamented that Ed had sold out. He’d been on track to be a lawyer and he would have made a brilliant one at that. He’d whipped her butt in debate class a zillion times during high school. He regularly wrote editorials for the uni paper that had made her cry and he’d aced every single exam.

And then he’d sold out to big money.

She shot him an exasperated look. ‘Sleeping together is a new thing for us, remember?’

He shook his head and tutted at her. ‘We’ve been sleeping together for two years. How can that be new, Jo-Jo?’

Johanna glared at him indignantly. ‘Three times in two years?’

He had the good sense to look sheepish. ‘Well…on and off.’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘More off than on, don’t you think?’

He gave a little shrug and smiled at her. Her underwear heated up, announcing its imminent departure. ‘If you say so, Jo-Jo.’

Johanna went on immediate alert. ‘Don’t call me that.’

‘You used to like it when I called you Jo-Jo.’

She had liked it. Loved it, in fact. When they’d been in high school and her stupid heart had thought his pet name for her meant he was as secretly into her as she was into him. But now it was just a reminder of all that wasted time and emotional angst as she’d waited for him to look beyond the bad hair and braces.

‘No. I always hated it,’ she lied.

‘Okay.’ He frowned down at her. ‘You’re angry with me. But I’m not entirely sure why? We haven’t even seen each other for seven months.’

Yes. Exactly. The last time she’d seen him he’d been naked and wrapped around her, her head tucked under his chin, his big hand warm on her bare belly. And when she’d woken in the morning he was gone. No goodbye kiss. No cute little note on the pillow.

Like the other two times.

Johanna looked back over his shoulder. ‘Don’t talk to me.’

‘Not very articulate for a lawyer,’ he said after a few moments.

Johanna ignored the dig.

‘So I get convicted without even knowing my crime?’

She ignored him again. Would this song never end?

‘You get to be judge, jury and executioner?’

She rolled her eyes but kept them firmly fixed over his shoulder.

‘Johanna?’

Johanna sighed at his persistence. ‘I’m not angry with you,’ she said, looking up at him, her nostrils filling up with the scent of him, her breath hitching at how very close, how very tempting his mouth was.

How could she be angry with him when she wanted to kiss him so damn bad her head was pounding with the temptation of it? ‘I’m angry with myself.’

And that was the kicker. She could blame Ed and his underwear-melting smile as much as she liked but he hadn’t put a gun to her head. He hadn’t forced her into his bed those last three times – she’d gone willingly.

Hell, she’d gone faster than a speeding bullet.

But it had to stop.

‘For denying yourself the pleasure of my company tonight?’

He waggled his eyebrows and grinned down at her and she couldn’t help but smile back even as the true answer burned a hole right through her chest wall.

For falling in love with you, you moron.

‘Because I don’t do casual sex, Ed. And then you come along and my inhibitions fly right out the window and I don’t like being that girl.’

‘What girl is that?’

‘Your bonk buddy. Your booty call. I don’t want to be your bridesmaid with benefits.’

‘The sex is that bad?’

Johanna rolled her eyes at his faux crestfallen look. She was pleased one of them was enjoying themselves. ‘No. It’s good. And you know it. You’re ruining me for other men, Ed.’

‘Excellent,’ he grinned. ‘I’ve always wanted to ruin a woman. It’s so very Victorian. Suits the hotel don’t you think?’

Johanna shook her head at the devilish gleam in his eyes. Good old Ed – couldn’t be serious about anything. ‘Well, there are two hundred people at this wedding, a good proportion of them single females, I’m sure you’ll find someone to charm into your bed.’

He looked down into her face, a frown creasing his brow, and even crinkled and serious he looked better than any man had a right to.

‘You make me sound very shallow, Jo-Jo.’

Johanna dragged her gaze from the accusation in his, planting it firmly over his shoulder once again. ‘If the cap fits…’ she murmured.

She felt him stiffen a little in her arms and Johanna hated that he’d reduced her to some sharp-tongued shrew. She knew there were depths to Ed that he didn’t show the world. That beneath the super-cool, man-about-town, sex-god façade was a deep thinker, a compassionate humanitarian.

His charity donations alone were staggering.

Could he help it if that package came wrapped in very distracting man-bling? Bling that attracted women faster than a display window at Tiffany’s?

Hell, Ed might as well be packed into a little blue box and be done with it.

Thankfully the song drew to an end, sparing them both any further strained conversation. Johanna pulled out of his arms at the first opportunity. ‘Your duty has been discharged,’ she said, her smile feeling stiff and achy on her face. ‘You are free to ruin at will.’

He reached for her. ‘Jo-Jo, I –’

But Johanna pulled away before his fingers could make contact with her arm. Her body literally ached for wanting him – she wasn’t sure how much physical contact she could take before she succumbed to it.

‘The name is Johanna,’ she snapped.

And she turned on her heel and whirled away, her ruffles flaring.

Carmen Miranda would have been proud.

Chapter Two

Ed was dog tired by the time he hit the shower in his sumptuous hotel room around midnight. He’d flown in only this morning from a whistle-stop business tour of China and the jet lag was catching up with him. The heat from the shower and the luxury of the surroundings helped. The tiles were marble, the taps were gilt and the shower head was enormous.

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