Improper Proposal

by Cathryn Fox

  “I missed the round of hugs and kisses,” he whispers, his warm breath sliding across the shell of my ear. Oh God, that shouldn’t feel so nice. I cough to hide the moan rising in my throat, and resist the urge to drop to the ground, spread my legs, and ask him to take me already.

  Run away, Harper. Get out of here while there’s still time.

  I take in his tanned skin, and his eyes stray down my body. I realize he’s looking at me the same way I’m looking at him. I really should get out of here. I have no real idea what’s going on, or if this family—George—is part of my dossier. But instead I find myself saying, “It’s so nice to finally meet you all.”

  Damn, girl, what are you doing?

  As soon as I speak, Will gives me a curious look. His ocean-blue eyes narrow in on me, and his head angles sideway like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. I feel a measure of unease. Does he know whether I’m supposed to be here? If I was sent here to meet George?

  “Do I know you?” he asks.

  “Oh, Will, cut it out,” Claire says, giving him a whack on the arm.

  “We only learned that George’s surprise was a woman when Gramps found her at the end of the driveway,” Bronwyn says. She bats her lashes. “So romantic.”

  “So, you’re George’s girl?” He looks about as surprised as I feel.

  “I…uh…” Shit, what do I say? The pieces were lining up to prove I was. George and my sponsor must have been in on this adventure together.

  “Of course she is,” Bronwyn pipes in.

  “Well, he did mention to me a while back that he was online dating,” Will said.

  Online dating?

  Please tell me one of the girls hadn’t connected with George while pretending to be me!

  Shit. Shit. Shit. What a freaking mess. I need to get a hold of my friends and find out what they set up. Or better yet, since George isn’t even here, come tomorrow morning, I could hightail it out of here before anyone wakes up.

  “You sound like you’re from New York,” Will says.

  I clear my throat. “I’m a New Yorker,” I say. “Born and bred.”

  He rocks on his heels, and those steely blue eyes move over my face. “Actually, I thought George had given up online dating months ago.”

  “That’s because he found someone, silly,” Bronwyn says.

  Was that someone supposedly me?

  “What exactly is it that you do, Harper?” I don’t miss the deep curiosity in Will’s voice, the interrogation behind that question.

  Claire, George’s mother, gives Will a whack. “There will be plenty of times for questions later, Will.” She smiles at me, so warm and motherly my heart wobbles, missing my own mother who died a few years ago. She steps closer. “Will is an American, too,” she says, but I already figured that out from his accent. “Works as a consultant in New York. Perhaps you two do know each other, after all.”

  Will’s lips curl into a teasing smile. “Do we know each other, Harper? New York is a big place, but I’m sure we must have crossed paths.” He looks at me, his eyes challenging, a dare of sorts. He knows something. I’m almost positive. Is he aware of the dossier? Has he come to see for himself what kind of desperate girl would set up such a pact?

  “I’m sure if we had met, I would have remembered,” I say and look at my shoes. What the hell am I’m doing? I should go. George isn’t even here.

  Then leave already.

  I want to, I really do, but George has a big wonderful family, full of love and life—everything I’ve ever wanted but know better than to hope for—and I just want to bask in that for a while. Then there’s Will, the American cousin I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of and would like to get to know better. Between the sheets, of course. I mean, I am here to have epic sex, right? Although, how I plan to do that with the cousin when I was supposed to be here for George is beyond me.

  I’m a horrible person. I know it. But I can’t say the words out loud.

  And it has nothing to do with the fact that the way he smells makes my body… No. No, I really shouldn’t go there.

  Yep. I’m awful.

  Well done, Harper. Well done.

  Chapter Two

  Will

  Why the hell does Harper look so familiar?

  Yeah, the United States is a massive country with a growing population of over three-hundred and twenty-five million, and while she might be from New York, what are the chances that I had a run-in with her somewhere? Slim to none. Maybe we were on the same flight, and that’s why I feel like I’ve seen her before.

  I admire the beautiful woman before me and can’t help but feel a twinge of envy that George found her first. Dammit, what am I thinking? Okay, during this trip it’s clear I need to stay away from her. But before I do, I gift myself with one last look. I take in her features and drive my hands into my pockets as I admire her long, wavy brown hair, which I could so easily envision splayed across my bed sheets, dark, chocolate brown eyes any guy could get lost in, and a curvy body made for sin.

  And those heels.

  Holy fuck, those heels. They were almost the death of her, and if she doesn’t take them off, they’ll soon be the death of me.

  I was half hard the second I climbed from the car and saw her standing there in her tight jeans and sexy shoes. But of course, that was before I knew who she was. Oh hell, who the fuck am I’m kidding. I’m still half hard, even after learning she’s my cousin’s girl.

  All the more reason for me to keep my distance and stay out of her business.

  Wait, did her eyes just travel the length of me?

  Nah, I must be mistaken. If she’s with George, no way would she be checking me out, right? Yeah, it must have just been wishful thinking on my part, because the second I saw her lick those lush, pouty lips, all I wanted to do was slide my tongue over her mouth for a taste. Shit, she’s not mine to touch, and I shouldn’t be fantasizing about her.

  Her appearance does, however, have me wondering why a gorgeous girl like her would register at an online dating site to find a guy. I have no doubt the men from her social circle are following her around like fucking hounds, their tongues wagging and dicks begging.

  When George said he had a surprise for us all today, I cleared my hectic schedule and flew here right away, not only because I was curious, but also because it’s been too long since my last visit. Here I thought he’d be announcing a change in career—he secretly admitted to me a few months ago that he wanted to go to law school. Little did I expect that he’d be coming home with a new lover. Well, not that he’d actually accompanied her here, compliments of his military career. But still, this is all quite a shock.

  I mull the situation over, toss it around inside my brain. Truthfully, none of this sits right in my gut. Why would he keep Harper a secret and suddenly spring her on us? I’m a realist, not a dreamer like my cousin, and now that I’ve encountered his surprise, met his American girl face-to-face, I can’t help but wonder if she’s after something from my cousin or my relatives. We all work hard, have successful careers, but we all come from old money, and both George and I have met many gold diggers and social climbers in our lives. No way will I stand back and let anyone hurt the people I care about, especially George, who’s been duped in the past by a conniving woman wanting him for his wealth. I was the one who found and alerted my far too trusting cousin. I’d been worried sick, wanting to break the news to him gently, but in the end, however, he didn’t seem too disappointed by the breakup.

  With George’s head in the clouds, I’ve always taken on the role of his protector, which means that staying out of Harper’s business is no longer an option, not when she’s infiltrating my family and already has them falling for her. Not that I can blame them—she has a real girl-next-door sweetness about her, but it could very well be an act. All the more reason for me to keep a close eye on her, see what she’s up to. Sure, I could call her out right now, ask what she really wants from all this, but where is the fun in that? Geo
rge won’t be back for a week, and so far, she’s given no indication that she’s a social climber. Then again, she’s only just arrived. But if I find out she’s after George’s wealth, I plan to make her squirm a bit.

  Squirm a bit…

  Shit, wrong choice of words, because the image of her squirming beneath me rockets through me and fires my blood from simmer to inferno. Okay, enough of that; time to get to the bottom of matters before George finds himself walking down an aisle with a girl who’s all kinds of wrong—but just happens to look all kinds of right, at least to me, anyway.

  Harper turns her back to me as Claire leads her into the house, and my gaze drops to her ass. Fuck. Firm, heart-shaped, pert in her snug jeans. Speaking about getting to the bottom of matters…

  Shit, what am I saying?

  Clearly I need to get laid if I’m looking at my cousin’s girl, one who could very well have ulterior motives, and thinking about taking a nibble of her bottom. But the truth is, life has become mundane, the women all the same. Harper here, however, no matter what she might be up to, is fucking gorgeous—and the last person I should be thinking about sexually.

  Despite that, my fingers itch and my cock thickens in my unforgiving dress pants. I normally would have changed for the long transatlantic flight, but I’d left straight from work and barely made it to the airport in time. But for the next two weeks, my schedule is clear. As a consultant in one of New York’s busiest firms, it wasn’t easy to take a last-minute vacation and travel overseas. But I managed to pull it off, and the only thing on my agenda now is to get to know this woman better. I just hope for George’s sake she wants him for who he is and not for what he can give her.

  I grab my bag from the back seat of my rental, follow every member of my family into the house, and shut the door behind us. Chatter fills the massive hallways as Claire and the others lead Harper into the kitchen for a bite to eat. My stomach takes that moment to grumble, a reminder that I had nothing but a cookie on the plane.

  “Aunt Claire, same room as last time?” I call out.

  “Yes,” she yells back, and I take the long stretch of stairs two at a time, anxious to get out of my work clothes and into something casual. I hurry to my room, drop my bag onto the bed, and tug off my tie. I glance out the window and take in the horse barn at the edge of the property. I might live in the States—my parents moved there before I was born—but George and I are close and often visit each other. I’m his best friend, and he tells me everything. So why didn’t he tell me about Harper? He’s been away, sure, but still, I normally hear from him. He never even responded to my text yesterday, or the one last week. I grab my phone and shoot another message to him to let him know I arrived and met Harper.

  I wait for a second, and when he doesn’t reply, I tug on a pair of jeans. Since the castle is warm, a fire burning in all the hearths, I grab a short-sleeve T-shirt and pull it on. I make my way back downstairs, and my stomach rumbles again when I smell Claire’s chowder. She seriously makes the best chowder and rolls, and I can’t wait to dive in.

  I rub my stomach as I walk into the kitchen, and instantly go still when my gaze locks with Harper’s. Shit, she looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Any second now I expect her to bolt. The fussing and touching is probably a bit too much for a New Yorker. Something inside me softens, and oddly enough, I can’t help but want to come to her rescue.

  “Hey,” I say, drawing everyone’s attention to me, and my heart squeezes when Harper briefly closes her eyes, takes a shuddery breath, then gives me a smile of thanks, aware of what I’m doing. Goddammit, the ease with which I just shifted from protecting George to protecting Harper is a bit disconcerting, to say the least. I’ll have to be very careful with this one.

  She relaxes slightly, looking at me, a glimmer of relief dancing in her dark eyes, as I hold my arms out. “What about me, the favorite American cousin. Where’s the love?”

  “You’re our only American cousin,” Bobby says, and laughter erupts around the long oak table.

  “Still the favorite, though. And come on.” I wave my fingers toward myself. “Bring it in. You’ve all been fussing over Harper, and I didn’t even get one hug.” My gaze slides back to George’s girl.

  Bobby snorts. “You got your hug when she fell into your arms,” he says, always the comedic relief. As Bobby teases, a warm blush moves into our new house guest’s cheeks. I didn’t take her for the type of girl to blush. Then again, I don’t know anything about her, so who am I to judge?

  “Oh, Will,” Gramps says as he bangs his cane on the floor. “Always needing to be the damn center of attention.”

  Everyone laughs again, and Harper’s mouth falls open at Gramps’s comment. I instantly envision her on her knees before me, my cock sliding in and out of that pouty mouth.

  Don’t go there, Will.

  “Nice to see you, too, Gramps.”

  “Get over here, boy,” he says, and uses his cane to stand. He spreads his arms, and I wrap mine around him for a hug. “When are you going to settle down and find a nice girl like Harper here?”

  Lashes lowered, a pink tinge on her cheek, Harper chokes on her chowder, and I gaze at her. “You okay?” I ask.

  “Uh, yeah, fine, thanks.”

  “Well, boy, answer the question,” Gramps says. “When are you going to bring a nice girl home?”

  “And ruin his perfect reputation?” cousin Randy says, a smug grin on his face. “Not likely.”

  “Perfectly shameful reputation, you mean,” Annabella says, planting a hand on her hip.

  I arch a brow and zero in on her. “Oh, and what do you know about that?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I do have Instagram, you know.”

  Gramps bangs his cane again. “Someday the right girl will come along, and it will be all over for you, boy. You just wait and see.”

  It’s not that I’m opposed to marriage, I just haven’t found the right girl—one who wants me for me, not the money in my bank, or the wealthy family I come from. I used to be embarrassed by my family’s wealth, but outside of that, we’re all independently successful, and that’s something to be proud of. Nothing was ever handed to us, and Gramps instilled a strong work ethic in all of us. I guess that’s why I have such a hard time with women who only want me for what I have.

  “I think George might have found the last of the nice girl’s,” I say, and Harper seems to choke again. I bend, putting my mouth near her ear. “Everything okay?” I ask again, the sweet scent of her skin fucking with my ability to think with any sort of clarity. Sweet peach. Who the fuck smells like sweet peach, anyway?

  She dabs her mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, just…ah.” One slender finger goes to her neck. “Something caught in my throat.”

  My muscles tighten at the vision of my cock caught in her throat, and I resist the urge to adjust my pants. I straighten and walk around the kitchen, exchanging hugs and kisses with my extended family. When I reach Claire, she’s beaming up at me.

  “Miss me?” I ask.

  “Of course,” she says and cups my cheeks.

  “Then can I have some of your famous chowder?” Her smile widens. “I’ve been all over the States, and no one can make chowder quite like you, Aunt Claire.”

  She whacks me. “Such a sweet talker.”

  I feign innocence. “Who me?”

  I pull out a chair across from Harper and lower myself into it. Claire brings me a heaping bowl of chowder. I breathe in the delicious scent.

  “Mmmm,” I say and take a spoonful. “I can’t remember the last time I tasted anything so good. When was the last time you tasted anything so good, Harper?” I ask her. Okay, I’m not necessarily being sexual here—yeah, I kind of am—and from the heat on her cheeks I gather she knows exactly what I’m doing.

  I really shouldn’t be fucking with her like this, but I just can’t seem to help myself.

  “I…ah…can’t remember the last time,” she says, her eyes locking with mine, giving me the
distinct impression that she’s talking about sex, too. My gaze roams her face, and I can’t tell whether she wants to smack the grin off my mouth or do something entirely different with it. What I do know is there is definitely more to this woman than meets the eye, and I have to say that what my eyes see, they like. They like a lot.

  Claire waves her hand. “Oh, you two cut it out. It’s not that good.”

  Harper puts her spoon down. “It is,” she says, then covers her mouth as she yawns. “Oh my. Excuse me. It’s been an awfully long day.”

  On that note, I stand. “A killer long day,” I agree. I look around the table. “I think I’ll call it a night. The time difference is messing with me.”

  “Same,” Harper says.

  “We need to get going, anyway,” Randy says as he pushes from the table.

  Harper blinks. “You don’t live here?”

  Randy shakes his head. “Nope, we just gather on Friday night for Claire’s chowder, and of course, tonight was extra special because of George’s surprise.”

  Claire folds her hands. “Very special indeed.”

  “You might as well all live here,” Annabella says. “You’re here more than home, anyway.”

  “That’s because Claire is too good of a cook,” Bobby says.

  Harper looks down, and I catch something on her face. Sadness? Longing? Disappointment? I’m not sure I can identify it, but it does make me wonder more about her, and her life back in the States.

  “Okay, you get a good night’s sleep, child,” Claire says. “Tomorrow, if you’re up to it, maybe you could help me prepare my plants for the winter. I want to spend as much time as possible with you.”

  “You…you do?” Harper asks.

  “Of course. It’s not every day George brings a girl home.”

  Harper stares for a moment too long, her lashes blinking rapidly, her expression confused, then gives a quick nod. “I’d love to help.”

  Claire smiles, genuinely delighted. “Great. Let’s get your bags upstairs and get you settled in.”

  “It’s all right,” I say. “I’m headed that way.” I stand and grab Harper’s suitcase. “Which room did you put her in?”