Page 64 of I Choose You

She cleared her throat. “Still think it’s worth the price?”

I glanced up at her then, noticing the nervousness she fought to hide. But that naughty smile proved to me how much she enjoyed my ravenous stare.

“Every cent of it,” I promised. I stayed put, letting her come to me. Once guests swarmed the place, it would be too crowded to appreciate her stunning beauty from head to toe like this. She strutted toward me, a sexy, teasing sashaying of her hips that accomplished exactly what she wanted.

Grabbing my attention.

I wouldn’t be able to look away all night.

No one else could compare.

She tugged her lip between her teeth and I bit back a groan at the seductive look she gave me. With each step, her slender, toned leg pushed the slit aside. All those sexy tattoos showed as the silky fabric eased apart. It taunted me. It dared me to wish it was me uncovering and caressing all that smooth skin I wanted to explore.

All I could envision was doing just that. Shoving this dress aside and running my hand up her leg. She’d shiver under my touch. I imagined her breathy sigh when I ripped it off.

“I’m glad you approve,” she admitted once she stood before me.

Approve? I was a glutton for punishment. I’d be torturing myself all night trying to keep my mind off these fantasies that took hold of me.

“You’re ravishing, Brooke.” I straightened and drew a deep breath for composure, but I sensed she needed more than words. Taking a risk and hoping I wouldn’t regret it, I leaned in and brushed a quick, light kiss on her cheek. Close to her like this, I was treated to her alluring scent. Something sweet but not too much. A hint to entice me to want to wrap her in my arms and carry her somewhere where I could explore.

As I retreated, I grinned at the sight of those cheeks turning pink.

Aha. Actions, not words. But it bothered me that she seemed so indifferent and doubtful to spoken praise.

Something for later.

I raised my arm for her, indicating she should take it. “Shall we?”

Her smile was sweet and genuine. As she placed her hand on my arm, I reveled in the pride that I was the one to be here with her.

Even if it’s supposed to be fake.

Kody was the designated host. Mercedes seemed to be everywhere at once, smiling and assisting guests. And I felt like the slacker. My role in this party had been in the preparation and setup. Still, as Brooke and I mingled and went from room to room and outside to the glass-floor dance area, I tried to help the best I could.

The party kicked off with everyone in high spirits. It was a fun, lively gathering. The band didn’t hit a single wrong note. All the hired caterers and waitstaff kept drinks filled and finished dishes cleared away. No drama. No scenes. Only good times were had by all.

I introduced Brooke to every guest we spoke with. She didn’t leave my side once. We made a good team. Partners. We mingled as a pair as though we’d done it many times. She wasn’t just arm candy, either. With that sharp wit and quick humor, she helped me avoid any awkward moments.

I hated to think Kody was rubbing off on me, but the few times I almost panicked, not remembering a guest’s name, she came to the rescue and introduced herself to prompt them to share who they were.

“You two are just so cute.” An associate’s wife beamed at us before we headed outside toward the music.

Cute didn’t seem to fit. But I wouldn’t argue that Brooke and I seemed like a perfect fit.

More than once, it had slipped my mind that she wasn’t my date. I treated her like one, getting her drinks and offering a plate of hors d’ouerves to share. She was my date, but she wasn’t. It was all too easy to forget that this was a business deal between us. We got along so well that even I could have duped myself into thinking the same as this woman did.

I was glad for the chance to sit down. When it was time to eat, I led Brooke to our table. She sighed as she reclined in the chair. I raised my brows at her and she smiled sheepishly, reaching down to rub her lower legs.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

She smiled wider and rolled her eyes—more at herself than at my question. “Now, I get it.”

“Get what?”

“The difference between sitting-down shoes and the others.”

I chuckled. “Do I want to know?” Easing the tablecloth back, I glanced at her heels. I pictured sliding her dress back and kissing from the top of those sexy shoes up to everything else.