“Do you have a business plan?” Des asked.
“Uh…no.”
“A concept without a business plan is just an idea. I’d need to see numbers, stats, and how you think we’ll fund this activity before I can even consider it.”
Paul looked as though he’d run full speed into a brick wall. Sure, she hadn’t expected Des to fawn over his idea, but some semblance of positive feedback would have been nice. Some brotherly support perhaps?
Knowing Des a little better, she had the feeling it wasn’t personal. He took his business very seriously, and Paul was his younger brother. Maybe this had something to do with why Paul felt it necessary to have a fake girlfriend?
“Sure, I’ll put something together,” Paul said.
“I’m not going to be able to make it to the car if we keep drinking at this rate,” Gracie said, in an obvious attempt to move the conversation along. However, she didn’t hesitate to accept another shot when Paul handed it to her. “Is this lavender?”
“Yeah, I source it from a huge farm in Daylesford. They have a whole food and drink menu based around it, and that’s where I got the idea to make a lavender infusion.” She turned to Des. “You might like this one, too. I didn’t add anything sweet to it, so it’s more herbal than floral.”
“Lavender?” He looked sceptical. “I guess we’ll soon find out.”
“Salute!” Paul lifted his glass, and everyone else followed.
Glasses slammed down against the table in a disjointed beat. Libby’s head swam with fuzzy warmth. She’d have to ease off if she had any chance of being able to drive home…ever. Frowning, she stole a glance at the clock. The hour hand hovered just before the ten. She’d definitely be getting a cab at this rate.
“You know,” Gracie said, toying with her now empty shot glass. “The Bellinis would be a great thing to serve at the wedding. We could make them the toasting drink for the speeches.”
“Wouldn’t your mother have a heart attack if we deviated from the very carefully selected menu she presented us with?” Des asked, a cheeky glint in his eye.
Gracie shot him a look. “We don’t have to serve them all night, but I love the story behind our drink. We can make it part of our speech and then get the waiters to hand them out. They are absolutely beautiful.”
“I could make you some miniature bottles to give away as gifts for your guests or bridal party,” Libby offered. “I did it for a friend, and they looked so adorable. We did custom labels with drawings of the bride and groom.”
“We haven’t figured out the bonbonnière yet.” Gracie turned to Des. “I know you were keen to do that since it’s such a big Italian tradition.”
The discussion between Gracie and Des dissolved into a checklist of wedding preparation activities.
Paul leaned in close to Libby. “You totally sold Des. He looked damn impressed.”
“You think so?” She turned her head. He sat so close that his heat enveloped her, awareness danced along her nerves, filling her body with a delicious hum.
“You nailed it.” He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear, a throaty chuckle reverberating against her neck when she shivered. “I, on the other hand, need a business plan.”
“I could help you with that.”
“I’d prefer it if you help me with something else.” He trailed a fingertip down the length of her neck.
“Don’t think you can get all handsy just because we’ve had a few drinks,” she whispered, shooting him a look.
“Isn’t that what a boyfriend does?” He grinned. “You seemed to enjoy it yesterday.”
When it came to seduction Paul could run rings around her…with his eyes closed and both hands tied behind his back.
“I’ve got an idea,” Gracie suddenly announced, her eyes twinkling with mischievousness. “Since we have all this vodka at our disposal, why don’t we play a drinking game?”
“You’re going to have a killer hangover tomorrow,” Des warned, brushing a stray curl from her face.
“I’ll be fine.” She waved off his concerns. “I want to play Never Have I Ever.”
Paul groaned. “I don’t feel like condemning myself tonight.”
“Okay, I definitely want to play now.” Libby raised a brow.
If he wouldn’t open up to her under normal circumstances, maybe he’d let a few things slip in a competitive situation. Their arrangement was supposed to be business, but pleasure had crept in, and curiosity had followed close behind.
“Fine,” Paul said, bending down close to her again. “But I won’t hold back.”
She sucked in a breath, willing her heart to beat more slowly. “Bring it.”
“Why don’t we fix the ladies a drink?” Des motioned for Paul to follow him to the bar. “Make sure Gracie’s is 90 percent soda water.”
“I heard that!” Gracie pointed at her fiancé.
“She’s a big girl, she can handle herself,” Paul replied, winking at Gracie.
“You haven’t seen her hungover. She gets so miserable.” Des shook his head ruefully. “I hate seeing her like that.”
“Awww, true love,” Libby said, her tone teasing though envy coursed through her like poison.
Since when did she want that? She shook her head, trying to dislodge the strange sensation. Instead she concentrated on watching Paul make their drinks, mesmerized by how his hands seemed to caress everything he touched. Or was she drunk?
Paul reached for some fresh tumblers and measured out half shots of vodka into each of the girl’s glasses. He topped them up with plenty of soda water and added a dash of syrup.
At the rate her head was turning fuzzy, the watered-down drink would be a blessing.
“It’s for their own good.” Des slapped Paul on the back and returned to the table. “Can I get a reminder on the rules?”
“We go around in a circle and make a statement starting with never have I ever,” Gracie said, accepting her drink from Paul. “If you’ve done the action then you take a drink. For example, if I say never have I ever gotten a tattoo, Des would have to drink but I wouldn’t. Got it?”
“Let’s go.” Des reached for his own drink.
“I’ll start,” Libby volunteered, looking around the table with a dramatic pause. “Never have I ever cheated on a test.”
Both Chapman boys took a swig of their drinks and looked at each other, laughing. Seeing them together in such a relaxed atmosphere, they were startlingly alike: dark hair, darker eyes, olive skin, and great bodies. But Paul had a mischievous charm about him whereas Des was more serious, the typical older brother.
“Delinquents.” Gracie shook her head. “Never have I ever been to Europe.”
The rest of the group all raised their glasses with a cheer and Gracie pouted.
“Never have I ever flashed someone,” Paul said with a sly grin.
Silence settled over the table and curious eyes darted around the table until Libby took a swig of her drink. Her cheeks felt hotter than the pavement on a summer’s day.
“I did Mardi Gras for my twenty-first birthday, so sue me.”
“You wanted those beads, didn’t you?” Paul threw back his head and laughed.
“Someone dared me, and you know how I am with dares.”
His eyes darkened. “That I do.”
“Never have I ever woken up somewhere and had no idea where I was.” Des raised his glass but no one drank. “Nice to see we’re all responsible adults here.”
“Never have I ever dumped someone via text message.” Libby looked around and Gracie took a swig of her own drink.
Paul followed. “Guilty as charged.”
“That’s terrible, guys,” Libby admonished. “Don’t you think people deserve to have it said to their face?”
“The face-to-face breakup is overrated.” Paul’s lips twisted into a grimace, and Gracie nodded.
“I agree. Sometimes if you know the person is going to have a meltdown, text is better.”
“You better
not do that to me.” Des pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head.
“Never,” Gracie said solemnly. “Okay, never have I ever been publicly dumped.”
Libby looked at her glass, contemplating a white lie. Paul would no doubt ask about it, and she hadn’t really shared anything about her past relationships. Make that relationship. Singular. After that disaster she’d never gotten close to anyone…what was the point? Her ex had only reinforced what her parents taught her—relationships were risky, especially with men who had a lot of female attention, and there was little chance of reward.
“Define publicly?” Paul toyed with his glass. “Are we talking in front of a crowd?”
Gracie drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “In front of at least one person who wasn’t in the relationship.”
Paul picked up his glass and took a longer than necessary swig, looking at Libby the whole time as if daring her to ask him about it. His eyes remained hard, his jaw set tight. So he knew what it was like? No wonder a fake relationship appealed to him.
She responded in the only way she could, raising her glass and matching his gulp with hers.
“Aww, you poor things,” Gracie said, crestfallen. “I was hoping no one would drink to that.”
“Life goes on.” Paul shrugged. “It won’t happen to me again, I’ll make damn sure of that.”
Libby reached out under the table and grabbed Paul’s hand. She had no words, nothing that would soothe the past for either of them. Screw her ex and his, too. They were great people who deserved better than to be treated like garbage.
“Never have I ever had a nickname,” Des said, breaking the tension and moving the game along.
When Libby didn’t drink, Paul’s elbow dug into her ribcage. “Why aren’t you drinking?”
“I don’t have a nickname,” she said.
Gracie looked at her incredulous. “Never?”
“It’s a lie,” Paul brought the drink to her lips and held it there. “Your nickname is Tiger, in case you’ve forgotten.”
He proceeded to stare at her until she took a sip of the drink, knowing she’d later regret accepting his declaration while he regaled the group with the story of how he came to give her the only nickname she’d ever had.
Glaring at him because she really did hate the nickname, she couldn’t stop the spread of a smile across her lips. Nicknames and in-jokes weren’t something she was used to. She’d never had any siblings to share them with, and her circle of close friends was shockingly limited.
For a moment she let herself believe that she belonged in Paul’s world…no matter how dangerous she knew it to be.
When the drinking game had devolved into dirty questions that made the girls giggle, they all agreed to call it a night. Libby hugged Gracie, and they made plans to catch up and discuss the cocktails for the wedding.
“They’re two peas in a pod, aren’t they?” Des said, folding his arms across his chest. “She’s good for you.”
They stood at the front door, the summer breeze rolling in and carrying the scent of eucalyptus from the yard.
Paul raised a brow. “How so?”
“She’s smart, fun. You’re not chasing random tail at the bar anymore, you seem…focused. Happy.”
“Yeah.” He nodded.
Happiness wasn’t something he’d ever worried much about before. He was an easygoing guy. Something that came from having low expectations. But he’d realized that there was a big difference between avoiding disappointment and being happy. Watching Libby kick goals tonight made his chest expand with pride. He was rooting for her, they were a team.
And that made him happy. The real kind of happy.
He said good-bye to Des and Gracie, his arm around Libby’s waist. Her head rested against his chest, hair falling loose of its pins. As the door shut, she stepped out of his grip.
“I have to call a cab,” she said, pressing her fingers to her temple. “There’s no way I can drive like this.”
“You’re not catching a cab on your own.” He shook his head. “Stay here.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Nice try.”
“I have a spare room, the bed’s got fresh sheets and everything. You’ll be comfortable.” He gave her a pointed look. “And safe.”
“I catch cabs by myself all the time.” She collected the empty shot glasses and tumblers from the table and carried them to the kitchen.
“Don’t tell me that.” He followed with the remainder of the bowls and glasses.
“And I don’t want you getting any ideas.” Her words were punctuated by the clatter of the plates being lowered into the sink.
He laughed. “Too late.”
“You’re terrible.” She shook her head, but a smile twitched at the corner of her lips.
“I’m a guy, and you’re the hottest woman to ever set foot in my house.” He reached around her to place the glasses in the sink, his arms brushing her waist. “Plus, I don’t like unfinished business.”
“Unfinished business?” She blinked, her eyes wide as saucers.
He trapped her against the sink, and the memory of kissing her at his parents’ house flooded him, chased by the vision of her beneath him. He was hard as a rock just thinking about it. Restless energy filled him with the need to touch, taste. Consume.
“You, me, your couch.” His hands skimmed over her waist. “An untimely visitor.”
She dropped her gaze, her hands coming up to his chest. God, he wanted those hands on him. He wanted that luscious, perfect mouth of hers on him. He wanted it all.
“So you got publicly dumped, too?” she asked, her cheek coming to rest on his chest.
If there was a quicker way for his libido to nosedive he couldn’t think of it. “Why do you want to talk about that?”
“I want to know you, Paul. I get the feeling it’s something that made an impact on you.” The heat from her breath came in slow puffs through his shirt, tickling his skin.
He shielded himself against the memory. “I came home and found her packing her things; she thought I was going to be out the whole day. Turns out she’d been cheating on me.”
“And she admitted to it?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed against the bitter taste in his mouth. “It was a bit hard for her to deny it when he was standing right there.”
Her mouth dropped, and she looked at him with exactly the kind of pity he’d wanted to avoid. “Did you know the guy?”
I more than knew him; I’d spent every Christmas, birthday, and family event with him. He was my blood, my family.
“Yeah, I knew him.” His muscles twitched.
Though he’d long stopped grieving the loss of both Sadie and his cousin, the hurt still kicked up from the bottom of his soul every so often like dirt at the bottom of a lake. He hadn’t spoken to his cousin since that day, hadn’t even uttered his name once.
“Do you want to hear my story?” She tilted her head.
Did he? Knowing her pain wouldn’t make him feel any better, knowing that she understood didn’t make a difference…did it? But chances were she hadn’t asked to benefit him.
“Sure.” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, toying with her dangling earring for a moment. “Spill.”
“I was sleeping with my TA at university.” She let out a laugh, though her hazel eyes didn’t crinkle as they normally did. “Not quite as cliché as sleeping with the professor, but close enough. I though he was the smartest, most brilliant man on the face of the earth.”
“He couldn’t have been that smart if he dumped you.”
“He was smart when it came to manipulating people to get what he wanted. But then he was done with me, and I didn’t take the hint. I tried calling him, texting him. When I approached him about why he was ignoring me, he told the coordinator that I came on to him and asked that I be removed from the class.” She shook her head. “I had to explain my side of the story to the professor and the faculty coordinator.
It was utterly humiliating, and in the end I gave up trying to get people to believe me. I was wrong about us getting serious, but I at least thought he respected me intellectually. Turns out he had female students lining up, and he’d chew them up and spit them out on a regular basis.”
“So we’re in agreement that relationships suck.” He smoothed his hands over her shoulders and down the lengths of her arms. “What I don’t understand is why you’re punishing sex.”
She laughed. “You’re doggedly persistent, you know that, right?”
“It’s not the worst thing I’ve been called by a long shot.” He slipped his hands around her waist and dropped them down to her lower back, drawing her closer.
“I don’t want anything to mess this up; we’ve got a good thing going here.” She shrugged. “I’m making headway with Des and, if I can get my products into First, I’ll have the proof of success all these other restaurants want. We’ll get your mixology idea off the ground, and I’ll do my bit by playing happy girlfriend at the wedding. We both walk away friends. No pain, no mess.”
“Sex doesn’t have to change that.”
“What if you fall in love with me?” she teased.
“You’re sexy as hell and smart to boot, but there ain’t no chance of that, Tiger.”
He couldn’t fall in love with her, no way, no how. Ambitious, well-to-do girls like Libby—and Sadie—wouldn’t go the distance with him. They were always hungry for the next thing—they wanted more. And he couldn’t give it to them. But what he could give them was the best damn sex of their lives.
A strange sensation twinged in his gut. This was exactly what had led him into an endless string of women warming his bed, and he was supposed to be done with that.
So why did Libby make him feel like it wasn’t the empty kind of encounter he’d grown to hate?
She nodded, splaying her fingers flat against his chest. “Good.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I don’t believe you actually asked me a question.”
He picked her up and set her on the edge of the kitchen bench, nudging her legs open so he could stand between them. The stretchy material of her polka dot skirt rode higher up over her thighs, revealing a flash of hot pink satin.
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