Mr. Fiancé Page 9

  We spend the next hour checking the dresses, but in the end, everything looks good. The tab makes me blanche while Roxy doesn’t bat an eyelash at letting them swipe John’s card. Instead, she just laughs as we carry the dresses out to the car. “Man, I really wish we could have gotten some of those party dresses. I saw you eyeing one. You’d look great in it. Not as good as me, but good.”

  “I’d make you look like a little girl playing dress-up,” I tease back. “Oh, wait . . . you ARE a little girl playing dress-up.”

  “Bitch,” Roxy says with a laugh, and I feel good again. On the way back, I forget about my worries as we all catch up on each other’s day-to-day lives.

  When we reach the Wentworth estate, my stomach is grumbling and I can't wait to get some food. We both help Grandma out and bring the bags in, setting them in the den where I guess Mom’s starting to gather the stuff.

  “We’re home!” Roxy sings when we walk back into the foyer. “Looks like Mom, Rita and Layla, and the men aren’t back yet. Let’s go wait in the TV room. You’ve gotta check out John’s system. They should be back soon, but seriously, Min, you need to see this thing. It’s nearly the size of a movie screen!”

  “I hope they’re quick, ‘cause I’m starving,” I say, following Roxy into the entertainment room. Her description was a bit over-the-top. It’s not the size of a movie theater, but still, a seven-feet-tall projection screen is pretty damn sweet. “Wow, imagine watching Ryan Gosling on this thing. He’d be life-sized.”

  “Imagine watching porn on this thing,” Roxy says with a laugh. “The guys’ dicks are life-sized.”

  “You . . .” I start before just shaking my head. “Just please tell me that you watch it by yourself.”

  “Well, duh.”

  Before I can reply, I hear a yell from the foyer. “We’re home!”

  Thank God for a mother who insists on making her lunch appointments. We go out where Mom and Aunt Rita are handing off their bags. “How’d you girls do?” Mom asks. “Been back long?”

  “Everything went well,” Roxy reassures Mom. “They’re in the den. You guys?”

  “Good. We got almost everything,” Mom says before scowling. “They just won’t be able to get in the Toro sushi that I wanted.”

  “Oh, that sucks,” I reply, trying not to sound annoyed. Jesus Christ, Mom. When I was a kid, you’d have been happy with Chicken of the Sea, and now you won’t be happy unless the fish were given massages before getting filleted. Jeez, no wonder you couldn’t trust the wedding planner to do everything. There’s no way any one human could remember everything you want for this thing.

  Mom catches my tone, though, and chuckles. “Okay, Mindy, point taken. All right, lunch time. You guys wait—”

  “Oh,” Roxy says next to me, her hand pressed against her chest. “Talk about Prince Charming.”

  I turn to see Oliver walking in carrying a bouquet of roses. My heart does a backflip as he walks over to me, a beaming smile on his face. “I brought something for you, Princess,” he says, handing me the roses. “They’re not as beautiful as you . . . but then again, nothing is.”

  I stare at the bouquet as if it’s a vase full of snakes. Still, his words have an impact, and I’m shocked. What’s he up to? “Th–th–thank you.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s so sweet,” Mom says, fanning her face to prevent smearing her mascara, tears in her eyes. Every woman in the room has watery eyes with the exception of Layla, who looks like she’s going through great lengths not to roll hers. Even I’m feeling a bit choked up, and looking into his face, I’m having to remind myself over and over that this is all an act. He’s just pretending. He has to be.

  “You’re welcome,” Oliver says, his deep voice dripping like honey. He leans down to give me a firm kiss on the lips. His scent envelops me. It’s a bit spicy from his cologne, but underscored with his unique manly flavor. I love it, and pretend or not, my body responds.

  When he pulls away, I almost feel like I need a ventilator. My head is swimming, I’m confused, not able to think, and I can feel my cheeks burning. To hide my embarrassment, I bury my nose in the roses. Maybe it’s the moment, but they smell better than any roses I’ve ever seen.

  “That was so sweet of you,” Mom repeats. “You really are a gentleman.”

  Oliver grins and flashes her a smile. “I try.”

  “Can we clone you?” Roxy asks, and while I know she’s just being silly, I swear she sounds like she’s all gaga too.

  Oliver laughs, shaking his head. “Sorry, Roxy, I don’t think that’s possible yet.”

  “No, seriously. Can we clone? I got a cup that you can donate your DNA—”

  “That’s enough, Roxy!” I say firmly.

  “Selfish, stingy . . .” Roxy’s words trail off as she makes a face, then turns and walks toward the dining room.

  “Hold on, Roxy,” Oliver says. “John and I were talking, and we’ve had the tables set out on the second-floor balcony. We’re going to do lunch out there. The day is too beautiful to let it go to waste.”

  Mom looks at John, beaming. “That’s a great idea! You two make a great team, John. It’s going to be great having Oliver as your son-in-law.”

  “Thanks, honey,” John says, “but it was all his idea.”

  Oliver turns his eyes on me and smiles. It’s not a smirk, and it’s not mocking or joking. It’s a smile that makes me weak in the knees. “It’s nothing, really. I do it all for her. My Princess deserves the absolute best.”

  I tear my eyes away from his gaze, my cheeks flaming. My heart feels fuzzy. Weird. I’m so confused and conflicted. I know this is all supposed to be fake, but Oliver is turning up the heat, and my heart, among other places, thinks it’s real.

  If he keeps this up, I’m going to be clawing his back and screaming his name before the week’s out.

  Chapter 12

  Oliver

  “Here you go, Princess,” I say, pulling out the seat for her. Out on the balcony, I don’t think I could ask for a more perfect lunch time. The sun’s high in the sky and the skies are a perfect blue. Past the back lawn, you can see the wall that borders the estate before the land drops, and the ocean begins. It’s not too warm, not too cold, and the breeze has just a hint of salt on it. I don’t think I could have scripted a more beautiful or romantic location for lunch.

  Mindy’s cheeks flush as she sinks in her seat. The staff have set up small tables for two or three people around the balcony as if it’s an outdoor restaurant. Each couple has their own table while Roxy, Layla, and Ivy Jo share a third, leaving one for me and Mindy.

  “Thank you,” she says, her voice small.

  I wink at her. “My pleasure. You look lovely, by the way.”

  I take my seat as a cool breeze flows in from the ocean, and I inhale deeply. “Jeez, this place is like a paradise.”

  “It is,” Mindy agrees, enjoying the cool air with a satisfied look. “This was all your idea?” she asks quietly enough so the others don’t hear. She doesn’t need to worry—she’d have to be talking pretty loudly. There’s comfortable space between the tables.

  I nod. “It was nothing. Everything was already planned. I just suggested we do it out here.”

  “Why?” she asks.

  “Because you deserve it,” I say with a smile. “And I wanted to have a nice lunch with you.”

  She stares at me, unconvinced. “I can’t tell if you’re playing or if you really mean it anymore, Oliver.”

  “Maybe a little bit of both,” I tease. “Maybe I don’t really know myself.” And that’s the truth. I might be getting a little carried away, but maybe I actually mean it.

  “Yeah, which means it’s bullshit,” she says. “You strike me as a man who always knows exactly what he’s doing and what he wants.”

  “Isn’t that what you want?” I ask.

  She starts to respond, but the kitchen guy comes out with the menu for everyone. He goes around to each table, leaving the menus and then taking the ord
ers for drinks. John’s going all out. We’re practically at a restaurant.

  There’s only a few selections of wine. Mary Jo is saving the best stuff for the actual wedding. I take a quick look, then hand it back to him. “Can I have the Darioush Chardonnay 2010 for us, please?”

  The man nods, pleased. “Certainly, sir.”

  Mindy immediately glowers at me when he’s gone. “Who said you could order for me?”

  “I did,” I say firmly. “I’m supposed to be your fiancé, remember?”

  “How y’all doing over there?” Roxy calls from her table. “Enjoying the view?”

  “Just fine,” Mindy yells back, flashing a quick smile. “How about you worry about what’s on your own plate?”

  “Smart ass,” Roxy yells.

  I laugh. “You two are a riot. I bet you two were cats and . . . well, cats when you were kids.”

  “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” Mindy scowls. “It’s tame right now because people are around. It’s an all out rumble when it’s just me and her. Or it used to be.”

  “What would we do without our younger siblings?” I ask, my mind briefly going to Anthony and wondering if he’s doing what I asked him to do.

  He’d better, I tell myself, or when I get back, we’re going to have more than just a little talk this time. I really should find time to give them a quick call, but it’s been impossible so far.

  “Repent,” Mindy jokes, “for thou art cursed with the younger sibling. And with great wailing and gnashing of teeth, the elder siblings were thus cursed.”

  I can’t help but to laugh. “Something like that.”

  “Nah, I’m just joking,” Mindy says more seriously. “I don’t know what I’d do without that girl.”

  “Then why didn’t you come here with them? If a coffee shop is your thing, I’m sure John could’ve set you up.”

  Mindy frowns. “Because when Dad died . . . I just felt paralyzed. Like, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Then running the coffee shop gave me something to focus on. Mom moving away was like a relief at the time. When she was around, it reminded me of him too much.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But I definitely understand where you’re coming from,” I tell her honestly. “My parents . . . they’re not together either.”

  She peers at me closely, looking at me with real concern. “What happened?”

  Before I can reply, the waiter returns with my drink. I look over the menu quickly and decide. “I’d like the lamb kebabs with couscous and grilled vegetables. Mindy?”

  “That sounds . . . actually, I’ll have the same,” Mindy says, giving me a little smile. “What? You were right on the wine, so I figure I’ll trust you on the food too. So . . . you were saying?”

  “My father doesn’t speak to me,” I say when the waiter is gone. “We had a disagreement back at the company.”

  Mindy fingers her wine glass. “You know, there’s a lot I don’t know about you, Oliver. Hell, I didn’t even have time to Google you. What was the disagreement over?”

  I hesitate. This conversation isn’t going in the direction I want it to go. I’m supposed to be turning up the heat, not turning up the mush. “I’d rather not talk about it. At least right now.”

  Mindy frowns. “That bad?”

  “It was.” There’s silence for a few moments as I fidget, trying to think of anything to steer conversation away from me, but thankfully, Mindy doesn’t push things any further. Finally, I glance around the balcony at her family. “So how do you think it’s going?”

  Mindy looks around, thinking deeply before replying. “I think everyone is pretty much fooled, if that’s what you’re talking about. Well, except for Grandma, but she’s always wary. But you need to stop with the tricks.”

  I hide my grin behind the glass. “I’m done with those. Nothing but complete obedience from me from here on.”

  “Why do I think you're mocking me?” she asks suspiciously. “And why is it that almost everything you say seems to have a double meaning?”

  “It’s a talent of mine, one of many, I might add,” I say with a grin. “When I was in school, they always told us never to talk yourself into a corner. Always give yourself another possible explanation in case things go wrong. So . . . well, I’m having fun—aren’t you?”

  “I most certainly am not,” Mindy says, blushing and tucking a lock of her rich brown hair behind her ear. “I mean . . .”

  “You’re playing the game as much as I am,” I finish for her. “And that’s fine. It’s no fun playing a game without a good partner to play it with.”

  “Why did you do this?” she says suddenly, trying to duck out of the way the conversation is going. “What is it that Gavin has on you?”

  The ability to hide pocket sevens and the devil’s own luck on the flop, I think, but I don’t tell her that. “Well, he and I have known each other since soon after I got back to town. And he did something big for me, so I owed him one. I’ll be honest, I thought he was insane when he first proposed it, but then . . .”

  The waiter interrupts us, bringing our plates. He sets them down before leaving, and I give Mindy a nod. “Bon Appétit.”

  “Salud,” Mindy says, reaching for her wine. As she does, her hand hits the bottle of sauce that the waiter had brought for our kebabs, and it tips over. “Shit!”

  Before I can react, sauce has splashed all over my plate, and I’m pretty sure I have some of it on my shirt. Mindy blushes, reaching for her napkin, but I wave her off. “It’s okay, really.”

  “Really?” she asks nervously, and I look at my right hand, which got covered in sauce all over my index finger.

  “Really. Here, try some for me,” I say, holding out my finger to her. “Tell me if it’s too spicy, or else I might end up with hiccups all afternoon.”

  “No way,” Mindy says, stopping when I put my finger against her lips.

  “Do it,” I say, lowering my voice. “Open your mouth.”

  Her eyes darken as she opens her lips, and I slide my finger into her mouth, my heart quickening and my cock jumping to rock hardness in a split second as she licks my finger. Her lips are velvety soft, and her tongue . . . it’s beyond words. It’s devilish, erotic, and as she sucks my finger in deeper, I can tell she likes it as much as I do.

  “Hey, get a room over there!” Roxy yells from her table.

  Mindy freezes, pulling her head back and her face blushing furiously. Not saying a word, she gets up and runs into the house. I’m on her heels in half a second, ignoring the fact that my cock is tenting my pants or the impending argument between Roxy and her mother as I follow Mindy inside.

  She’s quick, her shame and my hard-on giving her an advantage until I catch her just outside our bedroom. I grab her arm and pull her to a stop, where she spins against the wall, her eyes wide and desperate. “You said you were done with that!”

  “I didn’t say you could leave,” I say, moving close to her. I step closer, putting my arm out and trapping her against the wall. “Who gives a shit what Roxy says? Everyone ignores her antics most of the time, it seems. You were enjoying it as much as I was.”

  I reach out and stroke my finger down her cheek, and she’s practically trembling beneath my touch. “Stop,” she half moans, half whispers. “Just stop!”

  “Why?” I ask, leaning in closer. We’re less than two inches apart, and I can feel the heat and the tremble of her breath on my skin, and I want her so badly I could take her right here in the hallway. “You’re running from what we both want. What we both need.”

  A soft sigh escapes her lips. “We’re not supposed to be doing this.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it,” I whisper, leaning in closer. “There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun.”

  I move in closer, and our lips touch again. Our kiss is soft at first before growing hot, and I trail my lips down her neck, licking and feasting on her skin. She’s delicious, and she melts into my touch, her hands pulling me close
r as I close my hand around her left breast, feeling her hard nipple under my fingers and pulling on it.

  “Oh, sweet God,” Mindy moans, her thighs parting as I slip a knee between them, and she starts grinding against me. “What the hell are we doing?”

  “What you need, Princess,” I moan, moving my hand from her breast and down her belly to unbutton her jeans. I slide my hand inside and run my hand over the slick satin of her panties. She’s soaked, nearly dripping wet as I slide them to the side and slip two fingers inside her while the heel of my hand rubs against her clit.

  I know I shouldn't be doing this here in a hallway. Someone could walk by and see us. But I’m filled with so much desire I don’t want to fucking move. And the danger of someone seeing adds to the excitement.

  “Oh, fuck,” Mindy moans, her fingernails digging into my shoulders as I nibble on her ear.

  “You know you want this as much as I do,” I whisper in her ear, rubbing the secret spot inside her quickly as I rub my thumb over her clit. “Say it. Say you want it.”

  “No,” Mindy moans, trying to fight it and losing. “I can’t . . .”

  “You can. Say it. Say you want to feel my cock pumping into you and making you scream. You know how good it’ll feel stretching you open and making you—”

  “Coming,” Mindy moans as her pussy tightens around my fingers. She clamps her lips on my neck, stifling her cries against my neck as she bites down, and I hiss, the pain adding to my strokes as I keep her coming, melting against my hard body and clinging to me, needing me . . . wanting me.

  When she sags against the wall, spent, I pull my fingers out and run them under my nose, relishing the scent before I lick them clean. “So fucking delicious.”

  “Fucker,” Mindy half gasps, half curses me, even as a satisfied grin crosses her beautiful face. “That was totally against the rules.”

  “I told you, I don’t like rules,” I say, stepping back. Mindy doesn’t move. Her legs are still shaking from the intensity of her orgasm. I turn and start walking down the hallway before I stop and look back. “And Princess?”