Garrett was picking her up in fifteen minutes and she was still in her bra and panties. Natalie enjoyed big shindigs as much as she liked rolling around in a patch of poison ivy. She was agonizing over her attire for the dinner party—her bed was littered with half a dozen dresses. Garrett had sent them to her, and they were all beautiful, fashionable and—no doubt—expensive. She had to look the part, but he’d gone overboard.
It was their official “first date” and Natalie’s insides were tangled into knots. They had gone out to lunch almost every day to strategize about their next moves, and let the paparazzi take pictures of their “secret romance.” But this evening, she was accompanying Garrett to Michael Reynolds’s birthday get-together to convince his friends what a happy couple they were.
Five minutes late, she eeny-meeny-miny-moed a black, strapless dress from the pile and slipped into it. She wore her hair in a loose updo, away from her bare shoulders. As a finishing touch, she sprayed her favorite scent on her wrist and behind her ears. After a pause, she spritzed her cleavage.
With a last look in the mirror, Natalie rushed down the stairs and out of the building. Garrett had parked his car close to the entrance and stood outside, leaning back against the passenger-side door. He looked sinful in a tailored gray suit with a navy shirt, unbuttoned at his throat.
“Sorry I’m late.” She sounded breathless. It had to be from running down the stairs, not because of how handsome he looked.
Garrett glanced up from his phone and froze as something hot and predatory flared in his eyes. He opened his mouth then closed it to clear his throat. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them, and blood rushed to her cheeks.
The corners of his eyes crinkled as his lips tugged to the side in a sexy grin. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she mumbled, sliding into her seat while he held the door for her.
Natalie was surprised that Michael Reynolds was Garrett’s oldest, closest friend. She knew Michael as a laid-back man with an easygoing smile, always cracking jokes. He was so different from the reserved, intense person Garrett was... It was difficult to imagine them as friends. But then, she didn’t really know her soon-to-be husband all that well.
Forty-five minutes later, Garrett pulled up to a South Pasadena estate with a huge front lawn. The circular driveway was packed with luxury vehicles. Valets in bow ties and black jackets rushed around to take the guests’ keys.
“This is his house?” Her voice rose at the end. She’d expected a casual get-together. Sure, she figured rich people would have fancy hors d’oeuvres and a Dom-Pérignon fountain or something, but not this.
“Yes,” Garrett said, then switched off the ignition and stepped out of the car.
Natalie followed suit when one of the valets opened her door. Smiling her thanks at the man, she took Garrett’s arm and whispered, “You said it was a ‘small gathering.’ This is a freaking wedding reception.”
He furrowed his brow. “He’s a publicist so he invited some influential acquaintances, but it’s hardly a huge party. There can’t be more than a hundred people here.”
“Good Lord. What have I gotten myself into?” She dug her fingers into Garrett’s forearm, which was muscular as hell. Big party. Hot man. She wanted to run off into the night.
The other guests were in their element, drinking and laughing, taking all the opulence for granted. Natalie was grateful to be wearing her new designer dress. Even so, she felt like she was on the wrong planet.
She rubbed shoulders with rich, powerful people at work and held her own, but that was her job and she knew what she was doing. This was a completely different beast. Small talk and mingling were not her forte. Garrett led her through the throng, stopping frequently to greet people he knew. As promised, she smiled and nodded in the right places, relieved she wasn’t expected to talk.
“Mike.” Garrett clapped the host on the shoulder. “Are you old enough to drink yet?”
“No, but I shaved for the first time today,” Michael Reynolds said with an easy smirk. His smile broadened when he turned to her. “I’m glad you could make it, Natalie.”
“Happy birthday, Michael.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And let me know if you need a fake ID. I know someone who knows someone.”
“I see you speak my language.” Michael chuckled. “And call me Mike.”
Natalie laughed with him and the knot in her chest loosened a notch. She didn’t know their host well, but he had an openness to him that she liked.
She glanced up at Garrett when his arm snaked around her waist and he drew her close, but he addressed his friend without meeting her eyes. “You’re a bad influence on my fiancée.”
“I think it’s the other way around.” Mike lowered his voice and winked at her. “Congratulations, by the way. As his oldest friend, I thank you in advance for putting up with the grumpy son of a bitch.”
Natalie snorted. “You’re very welcome.”
When Mike walked away to mingle with the rest of his guests, Garrett dropped his hand from her waist. She shivered at the sudden loss of heat.
“Are you cold?” A small frown marred his smooth forehead.
“No. I’m fine, but I could use a drink.”
“Bowmore?” he said, one side of his lips tipping up.
“Just a glass of champagne.” Her stomach fluttered—she was surprised he remembered her drink from Le Rêve. “I need to stay sharp for our audience.”
Garrett resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder to check on her. Natalie was a grown woman and he didn’t need to protect her from being swarmed by admirers. Besides, she was the one who had proposed they refrain from other relationships, so she wouldn’t do anything to hurt his reputation or hers.
Earlier, at her apartment, he’d caught fire at the sight of her in her little black dress. It was demure compared to the one she’d worn at Le Rêve, but it hugged her hourglass figure and highlighted the curves underneath just enough to tease his imagination.
He walked to the bar for his Scotch and grabbed a flute of champagne from a server on his way back. As he’d anticipated, Natalie was now surrounded by a group of men and he lengthened his strides to reach her.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He pressed a light kiss on her lips and handed her the champagne.
“Thank you.” She leaned her head against his shoulder when he pulled her to his side, playing her part like a pro.
“Natalie was just taking us to task about USC’s new head coach. It seems neither he nor I truly understand college football,” said one of Mike’s college friends.
“Is that so?” Garrett raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged.
“Taking you to task is a bit harsh.” She hid her grin against the rim of her champagne flute as she took a long sip. “It’s just that I have a better understanding than you guys.”
The audience winced and guffawed at her cheekiness. As Natalie continued with her lecture, all the men listened intently, as did Garrett. She was funny and down-to-earth, and her mind was quicker than lightning. Lost in her words, Garrett belatedly noticed the crowd had grown. Her champagne glass was depleted and her smile was becoming strained.
He leaned down close to her ear. “Tired?”
“And hungry.”
“All right, gentlemen. I’m whisking away my date now. I’m tired of sharing her.”
When the crowd finally dispersed, Natalie slumped against him with a groan. “I need food, champagne and somewhere to sit.”
A server walked over with a tray of bacon-wrapped shrimp and Natalie snatched a couple of them. She popped one in her mouth and mumbled around her food, “Not necessarily in that order.”
Garrett laughed and guided her toward the French doors leading out to the garden. Natalie ate every single hors d’oeuvre she met along the way and finished another glass of champagne.
“Holy cow. Is everything really, really delicious, or am I just famished? I would totally go back for that crab cake if my feet weren’t screaming at me to get my butt on a chair.”
He glanced down at her zebra-print high heels. They did amazing things for her legs but didn’t look remotely comfortable. “There’s a bench around the corner.”
“Oh, thank God.” She kicked off her shoes as soon as she plopped onto the seat.
Garrett shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders before sitting next to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, gazing at the garden. “It’s so beautiful out here.”
“Is it?” He and Mike had grown up tearing apart that very garden, but Garrett had never sat still and taken it all in, like they were doing now. “I guess you’re right.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
He studied her profile, her high, regal cheekbone and the graceful curve of her neck. Half of her hair had escaped the loose knot behind her head and fell down her back and shoulders. He wanted to sweep aside her hair and feel the softness of her skin, which he absolutely should not do.
“So how do you know so much about college football?” He tore his gaze away from her and stared at an old maple tree ahead of him, hard enough to make his eyes water.
“Long story.”
“We’ve got time.” He made a show of checking his watch. “I’ll give you ten minutes.”
Her laughter filled the garden, then ended on a wistful sigh. “My dad and I, we weren’t very close. The only time he didn’t mind my company was when we watched college football together. He was a huge fan. I don’t think he even noticed I was sitting there half the time.”
Garrett understood what that felt like. As soon as he finished graduate school, he’d thrown himself into his work. It was satisfying in its predictability and it created a common ground for him and his father. His dad had stepped down from the CEO position when his mom died, but returned to Hansol a few years later as an executive VP.
“I thought if I learned enough about the sport, he’d like me a little better.” Her shrug told him it hadn’t worked, but Natalie told her story without an ounce of self-pity—like she owned her past, hurt and all. His respect for her deepened. “But soon I noticed I wasn’t faking my enthusiasm anymore. I’d grown to love the sport. Who knew it’d come in handy at an intimate birthday party for a hundred people?”
“You certainly won over quite a few of them.”
“I did?” Her eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise.
He huffed out a laugh. “Why did you think that crowd was hanging on to your every word?”
“Watch yourself, Garrett Song.” Natalie narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at him. “I know where you live.”
He snatched her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Yes, and you’ll be living there with me starting Sunday.”
“Ugh.” She hooked an index finger in each of her shoes, not bothering to put them back on. “Do you ever stop thinking about work?”
“Yes.” He cocked his head and pretended to consider her question. “But only when I’m thoroughly distracted.”
Her lashes fluttered and color saturated her cheeks, and his gut clenched with heat. She could definitely become his most dangerous distraction.