Chapter 7
I WAS PREPARED FOR her to look hot. Kat was always hot without even trying. But I wasn’t quite ready for this. She looked…
My mind ran through a litany of possibilities from basic to flowery—gorgeous, radiant, stunning, ravishing. Beautiful. Her dress was short, resting mid-thigh and hugged her curves. A glittery light blue with silver accents. It complemented her coloring beautifully. The top of the bodice was held up by thin straps over her pale shoulders. It dipped into a plunging neckline, showing about as much cleavage as she’d inadvertently given to her audience of horny gamers this morning.
But I pushed that thought aside quickly before the irritation flared up again. Her beautiful dark red hair gleamed against the color of her dress, spilling over her shoulders in thick, loose curls. I’d never seen hair that color on a person and at first had been convinced that it wasn’t her natural color. It wasn’t until I’d noticed that her brows and eyelashes, when not wearing mascara, were the exact same color that I figured she was a natural redhead.
It gave her an otherworldly appearance, like one of the ethereal and mysterious elves out of our Dragon Epoch game. Like a fey creature from deep in a dark forest who wielded nature magic and was as wild and as powerful as the land and trees that surrounded her.
My eyes settled on her cleavage. The dress showed off all her stunning assets.
And they were amazing, perfect assets. The round curves of her breasts, the glow of her skin there advertised all on its own a creamy softness that screamed to be touched. Along with a sweet, sweet flavor I longed to taste. I was obsessed with the thought of running my tongue there, along that silken valley, those pillowy crests. The state of things below my belt was suddenly uncomfortable, pulled like a knot wound tight. I was rock hard at the thought of touching and tasting her. I gripped my phone so tight that I almost dropped it.
She was looking like this… and I had to share her with my family tonight.
Which was probably a good thing because I was so damn tempted to do something that would feel very good, but that I’d regret later. I’d already endured the shitty conclusion of a terrible marriage once. No need to tack a similar messed up ending onto this fake one.
Tonight, I had a new wife I needed to present to the whole damn family. Of course, they’d insisted on it the minute I’d been forced into revealing the surprise marriage. So bogus or not, we’d have to go through with the charade of pretending to be new husband and wife.
Yeah, sure, I never turned down a chance to mock the institution of marriage when I could. But there was no way I’d consider getting tied into another disaster like the first one had been, even if just legally and temporarily.
Regardless, looking at Kat right now, I couldn’t help but wish there was more between us than a sham marriage. Because… wow. It took me a moment to catch my breath and calm the beating of my heart. I was grateful for the front flap of my jacket covering other, more visceral reactions.
“You look good,” I heard myself utter. Understatement of the year. She looked good enough to eat and boy was my mouth already watering. Hunger pangs screaming for her, demanding, insistent. So loud they almost combined into a chorus all their own. One that threatened to own every thought until I finally got to touch her, undress her, taste her. Bury myself between those warm, curvy thighs.
Fuck. I really needed to touch her. And any excuse would do.
“Shall we go?” I said after another pause where I fought to collect myself. Jesus. I’d seen a pretty woman before. I’d seen lots of pretty women. I’d been married to a pretty woman.
But… it was hard to remember all the rest. All those in the past. The past I’d wanted to forget. Right now, Kat was making that really easy.
Usually, she was just needling me and making it her mission to irritate the crap out of me. And aptly succeeding in doing so. Tonight apparently, her mission would be to unknowingly drive me crazy.
I held the door open for her, like a gentleman—like I’d been trained to do automatically in my past life. Old world manners died hard. She walked through the doorway in those clicky heels with glittery straps that snaked up around her thin, sexy ankles. I couldn’t help pressing my hand to the small of her back to guide her though.
She didn’t need it. Probably would never thought of asking for it.
No that small, simple touch was for me. As if to reaffirm to myself that she was real and she was, indeed, this beautiful on top of all her other admirable—and not as visibly obvious—assets.
And that for a short while longer, she was mine.
My fellow co-worker. My sometime partner-in-crime. My erstwhile nemesis. My wife—whom I couldn’t touch. And no, not by some arbitrary law or regulation. Not even by her own insistence. No, that stupid-ass stipulation had come from me and I had no one to blame for suffering with these blue balls but myself.
Unfortunately, I had no time to wallow in my misery. I moved to the passenger side of my midnight blue ‘80s era Mercedes Benz to open the door for her.
“Wow, such a genna’man,” she drawled, surprisingly, with little of her characteristic snark. She looked at me and gave an exaggerated wink.
I had little occasion to drive her places. We only rarely interacted in a social context. Sure, we’d spent nights and nights on top of each other—unfortunately not literally—in the Den during crunch time. We’d done occasional happy hours with the department or a house party. I rarely got the opportunity to show off my own unique skill set to her. But it had been so ingrained in me growing up that I really didn’t have a choice whether or not I wanted to show it off.
As I helped her into the car, I was privy to the wonderful fringe benefit of a full view down the front of her dress. She slid into the seasoned leather seats and smiled up at me, which did nothing for the condition of things below my belt.
No wonder all those little shit bottom-feeders watching her on Twitch had lost their minds today. Shit. She was so goddamn sexy it hurt. Even when just wearing her yoga clothes.
Damned if I wasn’t also secretly gloating at the thought of showing up to the family dinner with this hot as fuck woman on my arm, calling her my wife.
My cousin would openly flirt with her in his usual over-the-top fashion. Father would probably spill his cognac and make quite the mess. Most likely both of them would be thinking dirty old man thoughts the entire time she was present.
But she was mine. Even if it was just on paper. And even if just temporarily.
“So I can’t believe I’ve never asked this but… where do your parents live?”
“South county. Coto de Caza.”
From behind the wheel, I threw a furtive glance at her to see if the name rang a bell, but she didn’t make any sound of recognition. Good. So much the better. Her ignorance of the local geography would serve to make her less nervous. That community easily housed some of the wealthiest people in southern California. She’d figure it out the moment we hit all the massive homes and gated security. Fortunately, by then she’d only have minutes to get worked up about it.
Turning the ignition, I eased out onto the driveway and hit the button to close the garage door. Her sad little ‘90s era Honda Civic sat in the driveway, looking forlorn in this neighborhood amongst all the hybrids, Mercedes and BMWs. Nevertheless, the car still seemed to be holding up.
Soon we were on the freeway. I glanced at her as she watched the dried summer hills of southern California chaparral slide by her window. Her hands were folded quietly in her lap, no sign of fidgeting or nervousness.
“This shouldn’t be too big a deal tonight. My parents have only known for a few days, after all. But they insisted on meeting you this weekend as soon as I told them. Couldn’t really avoid it.”
She nodded, gazing down at her tightly folded hands. “No worries. I get it.”
“How did your parents react?”
She hesitated in answering and I threw her a follow-up glance. Surely she’d told them… But it was still unclear exactly what her family situation was. She didn’t seem close to them at all and I was once again curious. Maybe she hadn’t even bothered to tell them?
She cleared her throat. “I haven’t heard back from them yet.”
My brows shot up in surprise. “You, ah… you emailed them the news?”
“Something like that.”
Wow. I threw her a sidelong glance, determined to get her to fess up about this. But now wasn’t the time. She glanced at me, then turned to look out the window.
When I opened my mouth to reply to her, she beat me to it. “I miss the trees sometimes,” she said out of nowhere.
“I beg your pardon?”
She turned to look at me. “The only big trees here are palms. They are everywhere, of course. And they fit in here, but I miss the trees in the Pacific Northwest. There’s just something about them—firs, maples, birch. It’s so brown here in the summer. But that’s the greenest season in the PNW.”
I kept my eyes on the road. “I grew up here. I’m used to it.”
“So do your parents still live in the house you grew up in?”
One of them, I thought, but I only nodded in response. Again, the less info I spilled about all this, probably the better.
I exited the freeway and wound down the familiar thoroughfares and byways, ending on a two-lane highway. That road led to one of the gated communities that made up Coto de Caza, nestled up against the dry hills and the canyons of Southern California back country.
We wound our way up the hill from the freeway through not one but two guard stations. If she didn’t freak out now, then we’d probably be good for the rest of the night.