His Kind of Perfect (Sugar Bay #1)

by Kinsley Gibb

  She shook her head even though a huge part of her wanted to go with him. “Will I see you at the Gala tomorrow night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “So you’re sure you don’t want to have dinner with me?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He nodded, his expression unreadable but it seemed as if she’d hurt him. Which was wrong because that wasn’t possible.

  “Have you tried the stuffed mushrooms? OMG. They are divine!” Charlie popped another savory bite into her mouth and moaned. The sounds she made had the guys standing nearby turn and watch with interest.

  “Pace yourself. I hear sushi rolls are coming soon.” She grinned at the orgasmic face her friend made.

  “Not to worry darling. I’m a professional.”

  Anabelle grabbed a mushroom and nibbled on the cheese filled morsel, trying to ignore the bundle of nerves clenched in her stomach.

  “Breathe.” Charlie pointed at her with a shrimp tempura before shoving the thing in her mouth. “Find your happy place. I know I have.”

  Anabelle made a face. Food was Charlie’s happy place. Her metabolism was a thing of wonder because the girl ate like an athlete in training, desperate for the caloric intake. If Anabelle didn’t already love her, it’d be too easy to hate her.

  “I wonder who’ll get here first?”

  “My guess would be your mother. I’m surprised she’s not here yet. She’s always punctual.”

  “In a perfect world, my mother will come, eat and leave before either Heath or Derek appear.”

  “Hold onto that delusional thought and stop your fussing. You’re giving me indigestion.”

  “No, the chicken feet you tried did that.”

  “Hey, this is an international gala, you’re supposed to try the food. I was being polite.”

  “Yeah, but chicken feet?” She shuddered. “No thanks.”

  “It wasn’t the worse delicacy I’ve ever tried.”

  “If you say so.” Anabelle scanned the growing crowd. “My mother’s been acting strange lately.”

  “You mean more than usual, because she’s always been a bit strange.”

  “True, but she’s really different now. I don’t know. Since she cut her European vacation short, she’s been a crazy matchmaker. Talking about my future, and kids. It’s strange.”

  “Actually, it’s normal for mothers to play matchmaker. The fact that your mother is just now doing it makes her normal for a change.”

  “What’s up with that?”

  “Welcome to my world. Do you see why I avoid my mother and pray for my brothers to find trouble so she can fuss over them instead?”

  Anabelle released a frustrated breath. “If nail biting weren’t a disgusting habit, I’d try it for kicks and giggles.”

  “I wouldn’t advise it. You wouldn’t believe the germs hiding under your nails.”

  Anabelle turned towards the accented, male voice. “Heath!”

  “Well hello.” Charlie prowled around Heath, taking in the details. “Be still my heart.”

  Heath scowled. Maybe the perusal wasn’t as subtle as he was accustomed to but he didn’t know Charlie was as subtle as a sledgehammer. Anabelle smiled because despite their lack of chemistry, Heath really was a beautiful man.

  “A little far from home, aren’t you?”

  “No. Not really. Home is a few miles away.”

  Charlie giggled. “Do you really have an accent or did you pick it up watching a bunch of BBC shows on Netflix trying to get some girls?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh beg away darling. If you’re a really good boy, maybe I’ll give you what you want.” Charlie winked and Anabelle laughed at Heath’s expression. It was a cross of horror, lust and an unwilling fascination.

  Interesting.

  “Behave Charlie. It’s no wonder you’re single.” Claire Broussard said, sliding into their group from behind, and ignored Charlie’s mock glare.

  “Hello Mother. Ethan! What are you doing here?”

  Ethan grinned at her. “I believe the proper response is, ‘Hello Ethan. Nice to see you again.’”

  “Aren’t I lucky to have dear Ethan escorting me this evening?”

  “Good to see you’ve taken my advice and joined the ranks of a cougar, mother.”

  Charlie choked on her champagne and Heath pounded her back. From his expression, he took great pleasure in assisting Charlie.

  “Sorry,” she said, wheezing. “Shrimp went down the wrong pipe. You can stop now, you damn Brit,” she croaked and pressed a hand to her chest. “Are you trying to kill or help me?”

  “Apologies. Efficiency was my aim. A second longer and I’d have had you in the Heimlich position.”

  “Well, aren’t you a regular boy scout.”

  “Rover Scout actually.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Children,” a stern voice interrupted. With that, all attention was given to Claire, who shook her head. “I am not a cougar.” Claire linked arms with Ethan and patted his arm. ”Just because I was wrong about the two of you, doesn’t mean I can’t help dear Ethan find someone.”

  “Won’t that be fabulous for dear Ethan.” Baffled, Anabelle shook her head. The world as she knew it was getting more strange by the second.

  “Since you shattered my heart, your mother felt guilty.”

  She turned to the stinker. “After one coffee date? Yeah right.”

  “The heart wants what the heart wants,” he said with a hand over his heart while her mother nodded like she believed the bull Ethan spouted. He winked at Anabelle, his eyes crinkled, it was clear he enjoyed the attention. “You are the epitome of womanhood and I am…devastated.” He hung his head.

  “Easy there Romeo. I’m trying to keep the mushroom down.”

  They grinned at each other.

  “Mother, this is Heath.” He took Claire’s hand in his and to Anabelle, it looked as if Claire simpered. She loved playing southern belle to foreigners. Anabelle rolled her eyes. If her mother started batting her eyelashes, she would vomit.

  Under the pretense of gentile manners, she knew Claire had already noted Heath’s long frame, aquamarine eyes, sandy hair and blue bow tie. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this girl. Two beautiful men and nothing.” She shook her head. Disappointment thy name is Claire Broussard. “And he’s British. I love Gerard Butler. I’d be a cougar for him,” she gushed. The metamorphosis from southern belle into schoolgirl gave Anabelle whiplash.

  “For the love of…Gerard Butler is Scottish, mother.”

  “British, Scottish, same thing. They’re from an island across the pond and better yet, they’ve got those delicious accents.”

  Charlie inhaled another shrimp and Heath took more joy in his rescue attempt.

  “Stop it already. Let me die in peace.” She shrugged him off and grabbed a water bottle from a waiter.

  “I couldn’t possibly.” Heath said and assumed the look of a choirboy.

  Chapter 13

  “Would you look at Claire with her boy toy?”

  Derek stood on the outer fringes of the terrace, had arrived minutes ago but the complete envy along with the trio of large feathered red hats of the white haired ladies caught his attention.

  “He’s almost half her age,” said another lady in purple behind her mouth in a stage whisper.

  He grinned at her half shocked, half envious tone.

  “Yummy.”

  “Miriam Bloodsworth, you naughty girl.”

  Good for her. Although he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear details of naughty grandma’s escapades and stepped around them to find Anabelle.

  “Well no wonder, the other day I saw Anabelle spending time with a young man. They were both terribly flushed so you know they were up to no good.”

  Loud cackling followed and he froze. Were they talking about his Anabelle?

  “Do tell.”

  “It’s obvious she’s followed in her mother’s footsteps
.”

  He studied the envied lady in question and saw a resemblance between her and Anabelle in the same hair color with a touch more gray and a similar nose. Yep. He was pretty sure they were the subject of current gossip. When he was with Anabelle, he had a hard time keeping his hands to himself, so it was hard to pinpoint exactly when they’d been caught.

  “Lucky Claire.”

  “I, for one, would love to have a boy toy on my arms.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?”

  “Youth is wasted on the young.”

  “If I had my hands on him, I’d twist him into a sexual pretzel he won’t ever forget.”

  No the poor fellow probably wouldn’t. Derek didn’t envy the boy toy in question. A visual of this grandma twisting a young man into a sexual pretzel made him wince but the ladies enjoyed the possibility judging by their collective cackling.

  He stepped away and fingered his collar. The damn thing was uncomfortable he was glad he didn’t often have to dress up like a monkey.

  He spotted Anabelle in a group with Charlie, a familiar looking guy, Anabelle’s mom and her boy toy. Somehow it felt wrong to call him a boy toy as if he were a plaything to be discarded.

  Did Anabelle think of him as a boy toy? He hoped not.

  The guy was closer to Anabelle’s age than that of her mother and Derek tensed when the guy gave Anabelle a familiar hug. The urge to vault over the crowd and rip the guy from her side was strong but he held back. The guy said something and made Anabelle laugh. Derek’s temper began a slow boil.

  Jealousy was unfamiliar territory and he didn’t like it.

  According to their agreement they didn’t have that type of relationship. Maybe for a real relationship, she wanted someone more like these guys, someone closer to her own age, someone who wouldn’t be confused for a boy toy. She seemed disinclined to make their relationship public knowledge, every outing had been just the two of them or in surrounding cities where they weren’t known. So maybe the purple hat trio had a point.

  He served a purpose.

  Provided a service. Hot sex.

  Damn.

  The thought of serving a single purpose sucked. A smart person would distance himself, ease up on the intensity, but he was afraid it was too late for him.

  Fuck.

  Instead of walking away, like the poor suckers from the classic Odyssey should have, he walked towards the siren who lured him by the simple act of breathing. He couldn’t help but think of the painful end to the sailors who hadn’t ignored the call of the sirens in the first place.

  A familiar set of wide shoulders caught her eye and Anabelle grabbed Ethan’s arm, ignoring his pained wince. “Dear Ethan, would you please ask my mother to dance.”

  “It’s the salsa.”

  “Then show her some moves.”

  “But—“

  “Go! For the love of Pete.” Maybe it was the desperation he read on her face, or the nails he wanted out of his arm, but he moved. “Ms. Claire, want to try the salsa?”

  “But I don’t know how dear.”

  “Allow me to show you.”

  As Derek advanced on the small group, his attention remained on a panicked looking Anabelle. He narrowed his eyes as she shoved the boy toy towards the dance floor where instructors showed basic salsa steps while guests followed. Anabelle’s mother was pulled along with him so he missed meeting her mother.

  “Was it something I said?”

  Anabelle’s laugh sounded forced. “Of course not. Ethan wanted to salsa with my mother.”

  “I see,” he said but he didn’t. Not really. “Hello ladies.” He gave a brief nod to Charlie but his attention was on Anabelle. She looked like a Grecian goddess in a dress meant to torture men. The drape of the white fabric showed the length of her legs with each step and left her shoulders bare. Anabelle was either cold or aroused because the protrusions of her hardened nipples were visible and commanded his attention. He was torn with the urge to drool or to wrap her up in jacket. He wanted her lovely assets to remain for his eyes only but that would be Neanderthal-like and odd for him.

  “Hi,” the ladies chorused.

  He nodded at the guy before remembering him as “bow tie” of the botched cupid’s date he’d interrupted. He shouldn’t have felt proud of that, but shrugged. He was a guy.

  Maybe she wasn’t officially his, but she was more with him than she was with bow tie.

  “Want to dance?”

  “I don’t know how to salsa.”

  “That’s okay.” He gestured to the couples on the dance floor. “I don’t think they do either.”

  She placed her hand in his and he pulled her forward. They moved together in a slow dance heard only by them, forgoing the sassy salsa.

  “Should I be worried?”

  She leaned back and looked at him. “About?”

  “Bow tie.”

  “Bow tie?” She giggled. “Is that what you call Heath?”

  He nodded.

  “No, Heath and I are friends. He’s here representing his firm.”

  “And the guy from earlier?”

  “You mean my mother’s date?” Her smile was wicked. He liked it.

  “Nice…and I thought the ladies gossiping in the back had made it up.”

  “People really think he’s my mother’s date?” She laughed, sounding pleased yet slightly incredulous, and interrupted their footwork. He pulled her back into his arms. She felt good there.

  “I swear. A group of ladies were speculating about it when I walked in.”

  She chuckled, the sound seductive but then, there wasn’t much about her he didn’t find sexy.

  “He’s not really her date. He was supposed to be mine.”

  He stopped, no longer interested in dancing. What the fuck.

  “Come on. Keep moving. It was a blind coffee date and a complete failure in the romantic sense.”

  Mollified, he forced himself to relax and moved again. There was no need to pummel anyone tonight, which was good since it probably wouldn’t impress her mother. He shrugged.

  “So, she’s with him now?”

  “No, she refuses to accept failure as a matchmaker so she’s on the hunt for his new match.”

  “As long as it’s not you, it’s all good.” His voice held a hint of the irritation he couldn’t hide. He shook his head, not liking the odd feeling.

  He looked at the dancing couple. Sharp gray eyes met his gaze and scanned him quickly, pausing to focus on his hand, resting low on Anabelle’s waist. Not quite appropriate for casual acquaintances, but he didn’t move it.

  Anabelle’s mother reminded him of Mrs. Johnson, his eighth grade teacher. Her eagle eyes caught every infraction he committed, knew his intentions to stray before he did. She’d been the all-knowing Master. Scores of her former students had lined the pews with him for her funeral a few years ago because despite her strictness, or maybe because of her vigilance, she’d been respected and loved.

  The last note of the song had barely ended before Anabelle pulled him off the dance floor.

  “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  They headed towards the bar. Her dress dipped low in the back showing lots of skin and the silky sight hypnotized him, so he let her lead. When she abruptly stopped, he almost mowed her over.

  “Careful now.”

  “Sorry. I changed my mind. I’m not thirsty. I’m hot.”

  Yes, you are.

  “Let’s get away from the crowd.” She pulled him towards the gardens and as he was eager to get up close and personal to her in that hot dress, he followed.

  He heard someone call Anabelle’s name and turned to see her mother dart through the guests. But oblivious to the commotion, Anabelle walked on.

  “I think your mother wants you.”

  “Ignore her and we might make it.”

  “What?”

  “Keep walking.”

  He didn’t like that command
and stopped. “Is there a reason you don’t want to introduce me to your mother?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’m not your dirty little secret am I?”

  “No!”

  “Then I guess introductions are in order.” He turned and watched Anabelle’s mother and the boy toy maneuver through the crowds to them.

  “Good heavens, Anabelle, what’s wrong with your hearing? Didn’t you hear me calling your name?” The boy toy he renamed “encroacher” looked him up and down and he returned the favor, trying to understand the type of guy her mother wanted for her. Based on the guy’s appearance, she wanted polished perfection.

  “Sorry mother.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Subtle, Mother. Where’s the southern charm from earlier?

  “Hello. I’m Derek. Nice to meet you.” He held out a hand to avoid the escalating tension between the ladies and nodded at Encroacher.

  Next to him, Anabelle released a heavy sigh while her mother held out a delicate hand. One could assume she was a fragile lady except for the steel in her gaze. The steel warned him that maybe he should have listened to Anabelle but it was too late.

  “Hello Derek.”

  Anabelle cringed, she couldn’t help it. Claire had the amazing ability to make one feel microscopically small. Derek stood tall and strong, not knowing Claire would do her best to break him. Anabelle shook her head. He should have listened to her and run while he’d had a chance.

  There was no doubt the next few minutes wouldn’t be pretty.

  “You are Anabelle’s new friend?”

  “Oh, Mother.” A mortified groan escaped her and Ethan, the jerk, stood there and grinned. He seemed to find the scene amusing.

  “Well, what do they call it these days? Shall I call him your friend with benefits? That’s what the article from the plane called it.”

  “Oh Lord.”

  Next to Claire, Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, his expression serious. With his black rimmed glasses, he looked like a bobble headed Clark Kent gone Italian mafia as he stood in bodyguard position, ready to do harm to anyone not showing the proper respect to Ms. Claire.