by Alina Jacobs
“Honestly, Mark,” Dana drawled. “Maybe you should have just stayed home if you can’t behave.”
I glared at Brea.
“And you abandoned your date,” Carter said with a snicker. “You didn’t even last, what, five minutes?”
“She’s right there,” I said, gesturing as Memphis Eve came over to us. Brea froze when she saw her. I smirked at Brea.
I hope she’s jealous.
Memphis Eve and Brea exchanged some sort of look. I put my arm around my date’s waist. “This is Memphis Eve,” I told Brea, not totally sure why I cared that she cared I had a hot date.
“I see a gal I know,” Memphis Eve said, leaning up to press a kiss to my cheek. “Meet me at the bar in five?”
Allie and Kate exchanged a look after she sauntered away. Brea angrily ate a shrimp popper. I was satisfied to see she was annoyed.
Allie cleared her throat.
“What?” I growled. “You wanted me to move on. So I did.”
“Yes, but with, like, a normal person, not an Instagram bot.”
“She’s nice,” I told them.
Brea still had that sour look on her face.
“I think I could use a Coke,” Liz chirped.
Wes nodded. “I’ll grab one for you.”
“You don’t have to—”
Wes maneuvered her to a seat then loped after me.
“Maybe Memphis Eve wasn’t the best idea...”
“What the fuck?” I snapped at him. “You, Carter, and Grant have been hounding me for months about dating. You set this up. This was your idea. I didn’t even want to bring her here. I didn’t even want to be here!”
Wes held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I just don’t want you to jump into anything is all. This was supposed to be fun. She’s not someone you should marry.”
“I wouldn’t. Besides, she’s not really my type,” I admitted.
“Let me guess—your type has a coffee addiction and is a wedding dress maker extraordinaire,” Wes said with a sly smile.
“What the—” I sputtered.
“Liz has a whole conspiracy in her head about you and Brea. She tells me all about her theories every night in between requesting food that might make her puke, might make her cry, or might make her so happy that she sends me out for it again. Not that I’m complaining,” he said, a dopey smile on his face. “It’s worth it.”
He looked back to Liz. Brea was sitting next to her, still staring after me, a furious expression on her face.
Liz blew Wes a kiss. My heart ached.
I want that, too.
19
Brea
Fine, it’s fine, I assured myself as I took half the platter of smoked-salmon-and-cream cheese crostini that one of the servers offered. Mark and my fraternal twin sister were two awful self-absorbed people who deserved each other. It was fine!
“Sooo,” Liz said, snagging one of the crostini off of my plate. “What do you think of Memphis Eve?”
“Fine,” I said, carefully arranging the crostini in a circle on the square plate. “She’s fine. They seem very happy together.”
Yeah, I bet my sister was happy with Mark, what with the way she had her tentacles wrapped around him. If Mark was too stupid to see through her act, then he could crash and burn, and I would roast marshmallows and make s’mores over the carnage.
“You’re fine?” Liz coaxed. “Not a little jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous? She clearly diets for that body, and I refuse to on principle.” I sniffed. “Mark probably wants some bimbo he can show off to his friends and business associates, and Memphis Eve just wants some guy she can use for envy-inducing Instagram photos.”
Liz frowned. “Oh no! I didn’t even think about that! She is probably just using him. Mark’s going to be heartbroken.”
“Welp,” I said. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
Liz sighed and rested her hands on her stomach. “It’s sort of not his fault. He’s had bad luck with love.”
“Join the club.”
“No, I mean really bad luck.” Liz looked at Wes and Mark, who were standing by the bar, talking to Memphis Eve. Then she took a deep breath. “Actually, it’s sort of my fault. I stole Wes’s company out from under him and his business partners, Rhonda and her brother. They then concocted this elaborate plot to steal the company back. Or at least Wes thought that was the plan. Rhonda was basically just out for revenge. She pretended to be in love with Mark, gained his trust, ingratiated herself with his family, then she set the Holbrook estate on fire. We had a big event there, and a bunch of people were injured. Wes almost died. He was in the hospital. Mark blames himself. But it wasn’t his fault! Rhonda lied to him and used him.” She picked at one of the cheese cubes on her plate. “Wes and I both feel bad, and we want to make it right.”
I took Liz’s hand. “That wasn’t your fault; you couldn’t have known.”
“It’s not Mark’s fault either,” Liz countered, “but he still feels responsible, because he was dating Rhonda. Wes feels guilty too, because he was part of the plot, though not the whole killing-his-family part obviously. Mark was shell-shocked and heartbroken after that incident. He threw himself into his work. He wouldn’t even come to family events. He just worked all the time. He built that company, but he just locked himself away in the process.”
“Poor Mark,” I said, feeling a flood of sympathy for him. My life was kind of a disaster, but none of the dates I had been on had led to my family almost being killed.
“We’ve been trying to coax him back into life. I was stoked when Wes said he had found Mark a date! Only I was hoping Mark would find a nice girl, not another manipulative bitch.”
Across the room, Memphis Eve trailed her nails along Mark’s jaw and made some sort of joke. He laughed.
“But,” Liz added, “maybe Memphis is nice. We really shouldn’t judge her just because she has an Instagram account. Mark does seem happy with her.”
Wes returned with Liz’s drink and smiled down at her.
I pushed up my sleeves and drained my wine glass. “Excuse me.” I waited until Mark was talking to an older man in a suit that looked like it needed to be taken out an inch, then I stalked up and grabbed my sister by the arm.
“Hey,” she hissed, “I’m working here.”
“Yeah, I bet you are,” I said in a low voice as I pulled her into a side hallway. “You need to stay away from Mark. Why don’t you go after some old guy who’s looking for wife number three?”
Memphis Eve tossed her glossy hair. I resisted the urge to pat my own frizzy bun.
“I’m not here looking for a husband,” my twin said.
“So what, you’re looking for a sugar daddy?”
“Of sorts.”
“You’re such a gold digger,” I said furiously.
“I’m not a gold digger, I make a lot of money being an Instagram influencer,” Memphis Eve snapped back.
“It’s not a real job,” I said defensively.
“Neither is sewing wedding dresses.”
“That is literally a real job. I am literally a small-business owner, and you shill weight loss supplements that will probably give people cancer.”
“You’re just jealous of me,” my sister shot back then brushed me off to go back to manipulating Mark.
I seethed the rest of the evening as Memphis Eve hung on Mark.
What am I going to do? I thought as I sipped my umpteenth glass of champagne. Sure, I didn’t exactly like Mark, but my sister was clearly after something, and she was going to use him and possibly ruin him.
I was feeling slightly woozy and went out on the balcony. It was a bit chilly, and I shivered as I sipped my wine.
“…Okay, well, I’m at my mom’s fundraiser. Yes…I’m sorry he’s howling, Mrs. Patel. I’ll be back soon and get him.”
Mark ended his call and leaned against the railing. Meanwhile, I stood as still as a statue. Why? Why was Mark out here right now? I had clea
rly had too much champagne and rich food and was wigging out.
Mark peered at me in the dark then quirked his mouth slightly. It wasn’t a smile, but it was edging in that direction.
“That dog is causing me too many issues,” Mark said. He was looking at me oddly.
“You kept it?”
“Well…” He looked chagrined. “I’ve already named him, and my family is excited that I have a dog. My cousin is already organizing playdates.” His mouth twitched slightly. “My parents would really think I had lost it if I suddenly got rid of the puppy at this point.”
Gahh! I had been half hoping that he would say something awful so I could label him as an asshole deserving of whatever my twin sister had in store for him. But he had adopted the stray dog. And named him. And was organizing playdates!
I made a face at Mark. “Now that you’re one of those dog people, are you going to start walking around with him in a stroller?”
“No way. Beowulf is going to be a monster. I think he’s already put on two pounds since he moved in. I’ve got him on an all-raw diet. I bet he’s got some German shepherd in him,” Mark bragged, sounding almost like a proud dad as he talked about the dog.
My ovaries popped. Curse you. “Mark,” I began.
He blinked at me, his face soft in the light from the open door to the ballroom.
I swallowed. “I need to tell you something.”
How do you tell someone who you don’t hate but rather actively dislike that your evil twin sister is trying to pull a fast one on him?
“I think you shouldn’t go out with Memphis Eve,” I said in a rush.
Mark leaned his hip against the railing and crossed his arms. “Why not?” he asked, eyes narrowed. “She’s pretty, smart, an entrepreneur.”
Jesus, are men seriously that dumb that they can’t tell an Instagram thot when she sprays her silicone lip fillers all over his suit?
“Because…” I looked around helplessly. Beyond the large French doors that led to the ballroom, Memphis Eve was searching around for Mark.
Just leave him to his own devices! the sexy devil on my shoulder insisted.
But he has a puppy! the angel shrieked.
Tick tock.
“Why can’t I be with her?” Mark asked me, head tilted slightly; a lock of his hair brushed over his forehead.
Memphis Eve crossed the marble floor toward us, two glasses of champagne in her hands.
Do something!
I took two steps, reached out, and grabbed Mark’s lapels just as my twin pushed through the glass doors. Then I took a deep breath and reached up on my toes—gosh, he was so tall!—and pressed my mouth to his.
As far as desperation kisses went, this one was pretty good. Mark’s mouth was soft, and his chin was freshly shaven. It took him a second to realize what was happening.
I meant to pull back after the initial lip touch, but then his strong arms encircled my waist, and he tipped my head back to deepen the kiss.
This wasn’t supposed to happen! my brain screamed while my inner starved sex goddess did cartwheels.
I moaned slightly against his mouth.
Wait, what, why…what’s happening? You were just supposed to convince him to stay away from your twin, not sleep with him.
I pushed away from Mark. He didn’t jump back, and his hands remained at my waist. A hungry, sexy expression overtook his face as he gazed at me.
“I um—”
Slightly behind and to the left of Mark, my twin sister shot me a death glare.
Mark leaned down to kiss me again, then Memphis Eve threw the glasses to the ground and screamed.
20
Mark
I jumped away from Brea and turned on my heel to face Memphis Eve. Her chest was heaving as her eyes flitted between me and Brea.
She brushed her hair back. “I’m sorry, Mark. I dropped these champagne glasses. Clumsy me!” She giggled. “I must have had too much to drink.”
I didn’t dare look at Brea. What kind of man was I, kissing another girl while I neglected my date? But the way Brea had melted in my arms—it had been intoxicating. I needed more.
“I—” I straightened my jacket. “I actually need to go home and check on my dog. The neighbors are complaining. Memphis Eve, if you’ll excuse me, please enjoy the rest of the evening. The limo is outside and will take you home whenever you are ready.”
I didn’t trust myself to continue the evening as Memphis Eve’s date, not when every part of me wanted to drag Brea off and continue what she had started.
Brea consumed my thoughts on the way back to my condo. I still thought about her as I nodded along while my crazy neighbor complained about Beowulf, who was howling on the other side of the door.
“Guess I better check on him,” I said, cutting her off and squeezing through the door before the dog could spring out and attack her.
Brea had kissed me.
Why? I’d thought she hated me.
I had always assumed it was a cliché when people talked about someone being mean to someone they actually secretly liked. There couldn’t be truth in it, could there? What was even more disconcerting was that I hadn’t been nice to Brea either. Did that mean I secretly liked her? So secretly, in fact, that even I had no idea I liked her?
I paced around the apartment, Beowulf at my heels. The safe option would be to write off the incident and assume that Brea had been drunk and I had been, well, not drunk but not thinking clearly. I needed to pretend the kiss had never happened. If there hadn’t been a wedding-planning session scheduled for the next day, I might have. However, I would have to be in the same room with her, sit across the table from her, watch her sip that ridiculous coffee of hers, and imagine those lips around my dick…
“All right, time for bed,” I told the dog.
While the puppy immediately went to sleep on my bed, somehow taking up a disproportionate amount of mattress space for his small size, I kept spinning the kiss with Brea around and around in my head.
Not only was I unable to sleep well that night, but the next morning, I also tried and failed to work out because Beowulf wanted me to play fetch with him. I compromised by rolling the ball for him in between reps. My phone dinged as I finished my workout. I was way behind schedule.
Finn: So you and Memphis Eve left early. *lenny face*
Mark: I didn’t leave with her.
Finn: …
Finn: Dude, Wes basically handed you a night of sweet passion on a silver platter. You literally did not have to work for it at all. And no cost to you.
Mark: She seemed like she was just there to take a picture for her Instagram feed.
Finn: Fair enough. You know what I always say—if it smells crazy, dump it.
I sighed as I dressed and tried not to think about Brea. I refused to admit that she was who I really wanted for a night of…not sweet passion, but more like hot and heavy fucking.
Brea studiously ignored me when I walked into the Weddings in the City office an hour and a half later. She and Liz chattered happily about the invitations while Wes and I stood by.
“They all look the same to me,” Wes told me under his breath.
I smirked slightly.
“You know you didn’t have to come today, though I’m glad you did,” he told me.
If I had been thinking rationally, I wouldn’t have come. I would have used my Sunday to catch up on work, maybe start training Beowulf. But I had to see Brea. I had to know how she was feeling after that kiss last night. I wanted to know if there was anything there.
I wanted to kiss her again.
“I like this one the most,” Liz said after Brea ran through the invitation options. The one Liz chose looked like someone had made a scrapbook wedding invitation. It was decorated with bits of lace, ribbon, and colorful paper and had letterpressed text. The invitation was as big as a photo frame and included an RSVP card and envelope, the invitation itself, a reception card with little boxes to check about allergies or other f
ood preferences, and an invitation to the rehearsal dinner.
“Your mom insisted that we invite everyone to the rehearsal dinner,” Wes informed me as Liz happily took photos of the invitations.
“And we need gift bags for the rehearsal dinner, too,” Liz said. “I don’t want people to go home empty-handed. Just something small.”
Brea nodded. “We’ve had a number of brides request small favors for the rehearsal dinner then a larger gift bag or box to give at the actual reception. I can show you some examples of what we’ve done for other brides so you can start thinking about those. We’ll discuss the actual gift box samples in an upcoming meeting. Just give me a moment to dig the samples out of the closet.”
“I’ll come help you,” I offered.
Brea didn’t look at me as I followed her back into the office to a storage closet.
“They’re up high,” Brea said, pointing to a crate on a shelf.
I ignored her pointing. The smell of her in the small space was intoxicating. She looked so fuckable in her flouncy skirt and short-sleeved blazer. I was hit with the tantalizing thought of pushing up that skirt and fucking her in the office. I tried to shake off the desire. Brea hadn’t given me any indication that last night had been more than a drunken bad decision on her part.
“Can you grab the box?” Brea asked impatiently, turning to glare at me. She must have seen the lust in my eyes, because her mouth made a round O, and she gave a little squeak.
Don’t lose control. Don’t lose control, I chanted to myself as I took a step toward her. She backed up against the shelving. I placed a hand on either side of her, leaning over her but not touching her. She stared up at me, eyes huge in the dark.
“So are we going to talk about last night?”
“I thought women were the ones who always wanted to talk about things,” Brea said flippantly, “and now here you are wanting to have an in-depth conversation.”
My mouth quirked slightly. “Oh, believe me,” I purred, “I would rather push you against the wall and fuck you until you screamed, but that would not be very gentlemanly. And I didn’t know how you’d feel about that, so I thought the best course of action would be to ask.”