by Petrova, Em
He lay next to her, propped up on one elbow, raking his gaze over her face. “You’re absolutely amazing.”
She flushed and ducked her head. He rested a finger under her chin and pulled her face back up. He kissed her hard, crushing his lips against hers, holding her in place and stealing her breath.
They broke apart, and she shifted on the bed, burying her forehead against his chest. “I’m definitely completely, totally, and madly in love with you.”
He trailed his fingers through her hair. “Ditto.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Riley drummed her fingers on the plastic table and resisted the urge to check her phone for the fifty-millionth time in thirty seconds. Where was he? Steam had stopped rising from the coffee cups in front of her—one untouched and one mostly drained—at least half an hour ago.
It had been two weeks since they told each other I love you, and the rush of knowing he felt the same still hadn’t worn off. She didn’t know that it ever would. He’d all but moved in since. He grumbled this morning about having to go to work for the first time in forever, but she could tell he loved the idea.
Traffic hummed in the background, and the line of cars to the drive-up coffee shop dwindled. As the clock crept up on six, fewer people wanted another shot of espresso, regardless of how bad traffic was.
She surrendered to the desire to constantly know what time it was and pulled up her email. The feedback, rejections, and requests were trickling in from the queries she’d sent out. The rejections still stung, but none had brought her to tears yet like the first one, and the encouragement was enough to fuel her. Nothing had gone further than initial interest yet, but she was hopeful.
A familiar pickup pulled into the parking lot, and she kept her attention on her phone, pretending not to notice but unable to hide her relieved smile. Zero of her focus was on the message in front of her. Instead, she was on full alert, listening to the approaching footsteps.
“I think your coffee got cold.” She tried to sound irritated when she knew Zane was within earshot.
He crouched in front of her, placed one hand on either side of her face, and pressed his lips to hers. She closed her eyes and sank into the kiss with a tiny sigh, flushed when he pulled away.
“I’m more worried that I kept you waiting than about the temperature of my coffee.” He dropped onto the bench next to her, arm pressed against hers. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The one day rush-hour traffic is a bitch in this valley has to be one that matters.”
“I guess I’ll forgive you today.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.
He brushed his lips over her forehead. “You’re generous like that. I’ll make sure to let the other commuters know you’ll be irritated if they hold me up in the future.”
She laughed and shifted in her seat so she could see him, but not enough to break the contact. “How was your first day of work?”
He tried to give her a casual shrug, but the smile that threatened to break out told her he thought he was about to be funny. “My boss is an asshole slave driver.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. She had heard Scott use that line more times than she cared to count.
“What?” He looked miffed. “I thought it was funny.”
“Yeah, so does he.” She tried to sound irritated at having someone new repeat the line, but she couldn’t keep her smile off her face.
“I get paid to laugh at it, so I’ll think it’s funny for longer.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what you get paid for, but I’m glad you have a new boyfriend.”
He stuck out his tongue at her. She poked the tip with her finger, and he sucked it back in. She kissed him deeply, loving the tingle it sent through her and the pressure of his hand against the small of her back.
“How did it really go?” she asked when they broke apart.
“It’s too early to tell, but so far so good.” He paused for a moment, as if considering his next words. “I got to have lunch with the boss’s wife. Didn’t know that was a perk. I think you’d like her. She’s almost as sexy as you, but kind of uptight. She reminded me a lot of you.”
She nudged his shoulder with hers, not able to stop laughing. “You’re being a dork. Why did you have lunch with Kenzie, and why didn’t you invite me?”
“It was a private meeting. I needed her opinion on something.”
A sliver of doubt wormed through her. Why was he keeping secrets? It had to be nothing; she trusted him. Besides, if it involved Kenzie, it had to be okay. She pushed the uncertainty away. Only way to find out was to ask. They were done not speaking up. “Do I get to know what about?”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “What do you think she’d say if she knew how many ways we’d abused her Ethan Allen dining set?”
“She’d be horrified, especially if we scratched the finish.”
He shrugged. “I was hoping she’d give it to us as a wedding gift. We get more use out of it than she does.”
The sentiment warmed her, but she didn’t dwell. Part of her assumed marriage was an eventuality, but there was no reason to push it. “She’s rich now, so she’d better buy us a not-used gift when that day comes.” If. She’d meant to say if. Not when. Oops. Too late to take it back now.
He drummed his fingers faster. “I’m sorry I don’t have any candles. Or champagne. Or violin music.”
She looked at him, not hiding her confusion. “Um… I’m not worried about it?”
“I really hope Kenzie was right. And the same size.”
She shook her head and blinked, trying to make sense of his half-sentences. “Is it just me, or are you babbling?”
He slid from the bench and dropped to one knee, and her heart leaped into her throat. The fake proposal from a few weeks earlier came rushing back, taunting her. This was going to get old fast if he kept doing it. She clenched her jaw, not wanting to hope, but unable to help herself.
He grasped her fingers in his. “Riley Ann Carter”—a nervous tremor ran through his voice—“you are the most beautiful, brilliant, and incredible person I’ve ever met.” He pulled a small box from his pocket, and her heart flipped in on itself. “I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.” He locked his gaze on hers, his sincerity distinct in his eyes. “So I’m hoping—” He swallowed and opened the box. A simple band with a stunning diamond setting winked back at her. “I’m hoping you’ll do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
“Yes.” The answer was out before she could think about it. She didn’t need to think about it; she already knew. She bent over and kissed him hard, memorizing the moment, burning every single detail into her memory. “Yes, and a million times yes again.”
He slid the ring on her finger, and it nestled perfectly into place. Having a twin had advantages she’d never realized. “Kenzie really helped you pick this out?”
He shook his head. “She let me borrow her finger for sizing. I already knew which one you wanted.”
Of course he did. She never should have doubted it. She pulled him to his feet. “I didn’t think they still made this design.”
He tugged her up. “It was in the retro settings. Apparently, we’re retro now.”
“I don’t care what they call it.” She draped her arms around his neck, snuggling close, focusing on every inch of him and the way they molded together. “I love it. I love you.”
He nipped her earlobe and hooked his thumbs in her back pockets. “So, in case your sister doesn’t let us keep the table, want to give it one more spin?”
She laughed and tilted her head back, loving it when his soft lips found the hollow at the base of her throat.
His words vibrated against her skin. “I’m going to assume that means yes.”
THE END
If you enjoyed the Toeing the Line serial, and want more sexy geeks, check out the Love Hashtagged series, including Graphically Novel (Archer’s story) in book 3.
About Allyson Lindt
Ally
son Lindt is a full-time geek and a fuller-time contemporary romance author. She prefers that her geeky heroes come with the alpha expansion pack and adores a heroine who can hold her own in a boardroom. She loves a sexy happily-ever-after and helping deserving cubicle dwellers find their futures together.
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DIAMONDS AND DESIRE
Angelita Gill
Chapter One
Jordana swung into the Ritz-Carlton valet in her old sedan, thrust the keys into the attendant’s hands with a ten-dollar bill, and hurried past the long line of San Francisco’s elite. They donned crisp tuxedos and glittering gowns, murmuring among one another as she rushed by, sporting yoga capris and a faded yellow hoodie.
She followed the signs directing her to the volunteers’ and models’ area in one of the ballrooms, hoping she’d find her sister without too much hassle. She’d called Lucee’s cell phone as soon as she got the anxious voice mail, but as per usual, no answer, which forced Jordana to make the drive to find out what was wrong. Down the hall, she spotted a group of long-legged beauties fussing with each other’s hair and taking selfies.
Bingo.
Pushing through the doors, Jordana was hit with a wave of loud chatter and wafts of designer perfume. Bustling bodies rushed by with racks of bright, colorful clothes. There was a mix of overwhelmed volunteers and harried charity coordinators in between the ruckus of models.
Lucee spotted her first. “Jordana! Over here!” Five foot seven and clad in a snug red dress, she scampered through the bodies and hugged Jordana tightly. “You made it! I had zero doubt you would come, and you’re right on time.”
Jordana’s voice strained from the pressure of her sister’s hug. “You said it was an emergency. What’s going on?”
“Adam called. He needs me.”
She checked the need to groan…and reach for her sister’s throat. This so-called emergency had to do with Lucee’s stud boyfriend? She’d driven all the way from San Jose for this? The budding actor better be on his deathbed. “You leave me some hysterical message to come quick because Adam is acting mysterious again?” As much as Jordana liked her sister’s boyfriend, he could be self-centered at times and disregard other people’s responsibilities when it came to his needs.
Lucee shrugged, toying with her manicured nails. “Something’s up, but he won’t say what over the phone. I hate it when he does that. Can’t focus on anything.”
Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t roll your eyes. “What’s he up to now?”
Lucee gave a small whine. “Don’t be like that. You should’ve heard his voice. Sounds serious.”
“Does he need money?”
“I don’t know! So I’m going to meet up with him, and I need you to cover for me tonight.”
Jordana jerked in surprise. “What? That’s why I’m here?”
“Please, Jordana. It’s only for an hour or so. There’s nothing to it. All you have to do is walk around and show off this piece, before and during the auction.” She held up a photocopy of a stunning necklace— round yellow and white diamonds in platinum settings, linked in a perfect circle.
“Wear that?” This was no ordinary accessory. Instead, it was something for royalty or celebrities.
“Memorize who designed it, what kind of stones, yada, yada, and encourage people to bid on it tonight in the name of charity.”
Jordana wanted to help out, but the thought of taking her sister’s place, even for a couple hours, made her squirm. “I’m no model, Lucee.”
“Oh, please! You’re a natural knockout. What are you wearing, by the way?” She pinched the hem of Jordana’s sweatshirt. “I told you to donate that fugly hoodie.”
Jordana gave a helpless sigh. Lucee had lucked out with her enviable height and bright blue eyes from their father, her wavy blond hair from their mother, which hung all the way down to her Pilates-enhanced bottom. Her closet door couldn’t even shut with all the clothes and shoes stuffed into it. To her sister’s constant frustration, Jordana was content with her light brown, shoulder-length mane and classic but flattering wardrobe. She didn’t need to turn heads. As her aunt once murmured to her parents, “Jordana is a natural beauty. Not Amazon-exotic like Lucee. She’ll be less trouble to deal with.” Ha. Her aunt had been right.
Nonetheless, she did need to stop running whenever her sister cried wolf. This time, she would again cave in, having driven this far anyway. And really, she couldn’t say no to her only sibling. “All right, but I have nothing to wear.”
“So you’re going to do it!” Lucee grabbed her in another squeeze. “That problem is easily solved. This way.”
Lucee tapped the shoulder of a fellow model, a slim redhead. “Felicity, find my sister something to wear tonight. She’s going to cover for me.”
“Sure, Lu. Hmm.” She looked Jordana up and down with a critical eye and then snatched a dress from the rack. “This one. It’ll show off the necklace the best.” She shoved the champagne-colored garment into Jordana’s arms.
“Perfecto,” Lucee exclaimed and then leaned down and grabbed at her right foot. “Here. Take my shoes, too.” Jordana scrambled to catch the five-inch designer heels. Luckily, she wore the same shoe size. Without pause, Lucee grabbed flats from her satchel and slipped them on. “Let Simone do your makeup. She’s over there at the mirror. Don’t be nervous, it’s a piece of cake. Thanks, sis!”
Wham-bam, gotta go. Typical Lucee. “Call me when you get home,” Jordana called while her sister strode off with a backward wave.
Felicity shook her head. “I keep telling her actors are a waste of time.”
“Yeah, but she loves him,” Jordana said with a smile.
“Hmph. Anyway. Let’s get you dressed. We’re supposed to be out there in twenty minutes. That doesn’t give us much time to…revamp you.”
With a wry smile, Jordana followed Felicity across the room, the dress in her arms. She had to change behind a flimsy fabric screen. The cocktail dress fit her well, although it was clearly made for someone taller than five foot five: a strapless frock with a deep, heart-shaped neckline that crisscrossed tightly over her breasts as the rest of the gown flowed around her hips and to the floor.
“Need help with the zipper? Come out,” Felicity ordered.
She did as told, a self-conscious tug at the neckline. “Maybe you have something with straps? I can’t wear my bra with this dress.”
“No worries. You have perky boobies.” Felicity snatched Jordana’s hand and positioned her in front of a mirror, and then she stood behind and made her assessment. “Very nice. You should wear your hair up and show off those pretty shoulders. The necklace will stand out more. Don’t fuss about the length, your heels will take it off the floor. Gotta say, you look fab.”
“Er, thanks. I feel a little overdressed.”
“You’re just not used to wearing art, sweetie. We must maximize the glam so all those rich housewives will want what we’ve got on. Don’t forget to memorize all you can about the piece. I’ll grab the details for you. Be right back. Simone! Help Lucee’s sister with her makeup and hair.”
Simone’s hands were quick and confident. When she handed Jordana a mirror to see the results, she had to give the girl some major credit. The makeup was subtle. Her hazel eyes were softly highlighted, her lashes plumped heavy with mascara. A little blush, a softly pink lip gloss and boom, she went from Old Navy to Vera Wang. She lifted a hand and touched the off-white artificial flower Simone had bobby-pinned into the simple chignon. She felt glamorous and sophisticated. That didn’t happen much as she spent her days behind a desk in medical scrubs.
“Wow,” Felicity said as she walked over, hands on hips. “You should dress up more often.”
“I would need a reason to,” she half laughed, accepting the paper from Felicity. She had to walk around to get used to the high heels while she attempted to remember the necklace’s details verbatim. Minutes later, the coordin
ator brought her over to the people in charge of handling the jewelry. With security nearby, Jordana stood in awe as the gentleman in the suit brought it around her neck and fastened it.
“Oh my…goodness,” Jordana breathed with a wide gaze in the mirror, her hand a little shaky as she touched it. The necklace sparkled under the lights as if it had a life of its own.
Felicity linked her arm with Jordana’s and guided her to the ballroom entrance. “You look terrific. Just remember to smile a lot. At everyone. And don’t linger too long in one group.”
“Okay.” Sighing, she touched the necklace, repeating the verbiage word for word. “Charles Sigvy, one-of-a-kind. Fancy yellow and white diamonds. Think I got it. I can’t believe I have thousands of dollars around my neck.”
“It’ll be a popular piece because you wear it so well, and one of them will have to have it. If anything, they’ll bid on it to outdo one another.” Felicity gave her an encouraging smile and patted her shoulder. “Have fun.”
Jordana took a deep, long breath.
Mingle, smile, and talk about fancy jewelry. Like Lucee said. A cakewalk.
Taking a step out, she gasped as her left foot caught the hem of her dress and she lost some balance, wobbling to stay on two feet. A couple of the guests noticed, but she recovered without a total tumble to the floor. Straightening her posture, Jordana smiled and pretended as though nothing had happened, even though her ankle knew otherwise.
Lucee, you so owe me.
“Welcome to the SFUA Children’s Benefit,” she said to a couple standing nearby. “I would like to show you this Charles Sigvy I’m wearing.”
The guests admired the necklace at length, and as Felicity predicted, most of the women were intrigued by the fact it was custom-made for the event.
As the champagne flowed, the energy of the cocktail hour transformed from a stuffy, low-toned affair to a more relaxed and upbeat gathering.
One moment, she’d be laughing at an outspoken old woman’s dirty joke, the next she’d be yanked into the arms of a tipsy Spanish benefactor who asked if she knew how to tango. She caught snatches of conversations from plastic surgery to politics to scandalous marriages and other various things she knew very little about. Like dragon boat racing and horse breeding.