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This time, I gulp too much tea to disguise my reaction, even though I’m sure my face gives me away. Jasper laughs. Bastard. But he’s right, of course. “Oh, so you weren’t fantasizing about me out there on the couch all alone?” I lift a brow.
His smirk only widens. “So you admit you were thinking about me.”
I roll my eyes. Damn him. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I was definitely thinking about you.” His hand brushes my knee under the table, lightly, and I jump at the sudden shock of his touch. “Thinking about my sexy little wife, and that blush she gets on her face, and the way she chews her lower lip—yes, just like that.” He winks.
I stop biting my lip and glare instead.
“Mm. I wonder which face is closer to the expression you’d make if I were making you come?”
Now my jaw drops open entirely. “Jasper—”
“I mean, I already know what you sound like when you orgasm, after last night.”
I close my eyes and snap my mouth closed again too. Dammit. “I was just… it… that…”
“Don’t feel embarrassed, Dee. I was doing the same thing, you know.” He catches my eye, his own dark and serious. “Thinking about you last night at dinner. Thinking about peeling that dress off your tight little body, and watching you ride my big cock while I fucked you on the couch. That’s what I was thinking. What about you?”
His words go straight to my pussy. My belly tightens, and I can already feel myself growing damp between the legs. I struggle to contain my breathing, to keep my heart from racing. The waiter walks by, and I seize on that distraction, flag him down for a refill of tea, which buys me enough time to somewhat recover.
“Can we have some breakfast menus?” I ask the waiter, all the while fixing Jasper with a pointed stare. “That’s what I’ve been unable to stop thinking about all night. Breakfast.”
“Um… Sure thing, miss,” the waiter says, only after a confused glance between us.
Jasper’s still smirking at me, damn him. But he doesn’t say anything, only turns his attention to the menu, and behaves himself for the rest of our morning meal. At least until we leave for the car. Then he rests his hand on the small of my back, his skin warm against mine. I jump a little, then relax into the touch, smiling at the hotel attendees we pass, as I remember the charade we’re supposed to be maintaining right now.
“No need to look so concerned,” he murmurs beside my ear. “Your obvious attraction to me does us favors in this case.”
I sigh in response, though I can’t resist biting my lip and shooting him a long sideways glance. “You’re more attractive when you don’t admit to knowing it so much,” I point out in response, which earns me a chuckle from him.
He steers me out to the car, which is just as impressive as it was the first time I laid eyes on it. Part of me still can’t believe this is my life—riding around in luxury vehicles with the son of the magnate who makes them. And getting paid to pretend to be his wife, part of my brain points out. An unhelpful part.
In town, we stroll hand-in-hand through the winding little streets. It’s adorable here, like something straight out of a movie set. I fall in love with the charming little seaside cafés and shops interspersed between them. Part of me wants to beg Jasper to stop in one of those stores to browse the cutesy little ocean-themed souvenirs—I’m a sucker for seashells. But I resist the urge. Today we’re on a mission.
“So. Engagement rings.” Jasper cuts me a sideways glance. “What’s your style? Vintage, modern, something gaudy or flashy?”
“I… I don’t know. I’ve never really given it much consideration.”
“Ah, yes, I forgot, the whole never been in love thing. Never daydreamed about your wedding either?”
I shake my head. “Not really the type.”
“At least that will make our elopement story more believable.” He winks and leads me by the hand into a jewelry store that looks fancier than any place I’ve ever bothered to set foot inside. I know I’d never be able to afford even the smallest piece of jewelry in a place like this, so why bother?
Still, I can’t help but admit, it is beautiful. We cross the broad, sunlit lobby, a skylight shining down above us, and an attendee crosses the floor to assist us. “What can I do for you today?” he asks with a broad smile.
“We’re shopping for a ring for the lovely lady here,” Jasper answers, leaning down to kiss my temple. I notice he lingers there a second, lips against my skin, and I can’t help closing my eyes in pleasure. “We’re getting married next weekend, so it needs to be one on short-order.”
“Of course, of course.” The attendee’s face positively lights up. “Right this way, and I’ll show you the selection we have in stock. Do you know your ring size, Ms. …?” He waits, expectant, and I realize he’s waiting for my name.
“Oh, Dee. Hi.”
“Ms. Dee.” He smiles. “And the lucky husband-to-be?”
“Jasper,” he replies. “Jasper Quint.”
Neither of us can miss the startled, then even more pleased look that chases its way across the jeweler’s face. I can already imagine the dollar signs that must be popping up in his imagination. “Well, Mr. Quint, Ms. Dee—”
“Just Dee, thanks,” I interrupt. “And no, I don’t know my ring size.”
“Let’s just get you sized right over here then.” He leads us into a side room, sumptuously decorated. With a single gesture, he magically summons several other attendants, one bearing a tray of cookies, another with pots of tea and coffee. I accept a cookie, then watch Jasper wave them off, saying “No thank you, we just ate.”
Embarrassed, I try to replace the cookie on the tray, but he catches me and rolls his eyes. “Don’t stand on ceremony with me, darling. If you want the cookie, eat the cookie.”
I shrug and take a larger-than-is-strictly-ladylike bite in response. Then my eyes flutter closed in pleasure. Oh God. Even the cookies in this place are amazing. What do they do, partner with a bakery?
“My wife makes those,” the attendant explains, with a grin in my direction. “Best chocolate cookies in Newholme, if you ask me.”
“Oh, they are.” I finish it off in one more bite, and Jasper laughs.
“Sweet tooth, huh? Good to know.”
“What are you, taking notes?” I shoot back at him.
“Maybe.” Jasper grins at me. “It’s best to know all of your preferences. Speaking of which.” He eyes the table, and I realize the other attendants have laid out a veritable spread of rings.
They look almost as delicious as the chocolate cookies—albeit a hell of a lot more expensive. I gape at them, because each seems more beautiful than the last, each rock bigger, each setting more ornate.
“They’re all so pretty…” I begin, hesitant.
“To your right here, we have the princess cut diamonds,” the jeweler begins to explain. “A more traditional look, some of these have vintage settings too—this ruby here, for example, with the diamonds around it, was actually from an older eighteenth century ring, which we reset after the original band was damaged. But most of our rings are newly made, such as…”
I zone out, because halfway through scanning the table, one ring in particular has caught my eye. It’s smaller than some of the others, not as showy maybe, but to me, it’s beautiful. The center stone is a diamond, oval-cut, but around it are dozens of tiny sapphires in little wings, so they make the central stone look like the center of a beautiful, intricate flower. Without thinking, I reach for it, lips parted a little as I hold it up to the light.
“You like that one?” Jasper asks, his eyes bright and flashing in the store light.
I look from the ring to him and back again. Like him, this ring is a little dark. A little complicated. A lot attractive. I swallow hard, and set it back on the table. “Yes. But, I don’t know, I don’t know anything about diamonds, really…”
“That is a lovely ring,” the jeweler agrees with a smile. “But perhaps you might prefer this one here. If you like the oval cuts, this stone has brighter clarity, and it’s a few more carats.” He flashes a significant look at Jasper then, and we all understand the subtext. This is more expensive.
He shows me another oval ring—also beautiful, of course, as they all are. He holds this one out to me, and I offer my finger. It slides right on, a perfect fit.
“Do you like that one, or would you prefer the other?” Jasper asks me, as though this is a serious question. As though it matters for anything other than the show we’re putting on.
“Whatever you like,” I reply. “They’re both nice.” But my gaze drifts back to the sapphire ring anyway, in spite of myself.
“We’ll take the second one then,” Jasper says, and my heart sinks a little in disappointment.
Though again, I don’t know why. It’s just a ring. Just a fake engagement ring, which I’ll be returning at the end of a couple weeks when this ridiculous charade is over. It doesn’t matter. So I plaster a broad smile onto my face and pretend to be pleased, as we settle up the bill, and Jasper pockets the ring.
“Shouldn’t I wear it?” I ask, eyebrow lifted. “I thought that was the whole reason for buying it.”
“You should wear it,” he agrees. “Though not until I properly give it to you.” His eyes sparkle, then, and I have a feeling he’s got mischief on his mind.
We wind up at a little bar on the boardwalk, way out on the tip of the pier that juts out over the sea. Ocean breezes drift past us, and overhead, the sun is dipping toward the horizon, already painting the clouds orange with its passing. We’re still waiting on our drink order—a bottle of champagne, chilled on ice, and a brand that I’ve never actually been able to drink, only ogle on magazine covers, due to the steep price tag—when Jasper suddenly swings around on his feet to face me.
