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Because he’d given his word. How had that become such a thing? Fine time for something like principles. Before Roz, he’d have said he had none when it came to women. Or rather, women said that on his behalf and he’d never corrected the notion.
“Make no mistake, though. You need kissing,” he murmured, ignoring the fact that it was so backward it wasn’t even funny. “In the worst way. Anytime you find yourself worried about whether you’re the most gorgeous woman in the room, you think about this. Remember what my body feels like against yours and don’t you dare question whether you’re the woman I want to take home with me.”
“I wasn’t worried about that,” she said and blinked her long sooty lashes coquettishly. “But I do appreciate exhibit A.”
Not enough to lift the no-kissing moratorium apparently. She was crushed against his body, wearing a filmy, flirty dress that barely covered her good parts and her lips came together in the sweetest little bow that he wanted to taste so badly he feared for his sanity.
But not enough that he’d lost all decorum. Looked like his will wasn’t completely broken because he found the wherewithal to step back. His chest heaved as he met her gaze. It was enigmatic and full of heat.
“Let me know when you’re ready for the rest of the exhibit. I can open it up for your viewing pleasure any time.”
Why were they torturing themselves like this again?
Due punishment, he reminded himself. His mom deserved to have a campaign free from other people’s darts because of her son’s actions. He owed it to his mother to fix it, especially after already messing up once because he couldn’t resist this woman.
Plus, marrying Roz and introducing something real and legitimate into his life meant something to him, more than he’d ever admit, to her or anyone.
He tucked his fiancée into the car and slid into his own seat. She leaned on the center console instead of settling back against the leather, spilling way too much of her presence into his space.
“This seat has plenty of room for two,” he murmured instead of starting the engine like a good boy.
“Don’t threaten me unless you plan to follow through,” she shot back and tucked her chin into her palm as if she planned to watch him the entire time he drove. “Where are you taking me? Not Randolph Room. That’s where your mom took me to lunch.”
“You had lunch with my mom?” That was news to him. He frowned.
Had his mother mentioned something about it last night and he’d forgotten in all the hoopla of the engagement party and the disturbing conversation with Paul Carpenter? He distinctly recalled giving Roz’s number to his mom, but he’d assumed that was so they could coordinate the clown thing.
His mother usually told him her schedule and it was bothersome that she hadn’t given him a heads-up about having lunch with his fiancée. He and Helene were business partners, and Hendrix sometimes offered advice on her campaign. And they were friends, which was often weird to people so he seldom talked about it.
Of course, since the photograph, she’d been a little on edge with him. It stung to find out they weren’t totally back to normal.
“Yeah. She called me and asked if I was free. I wasn’t going to say no.”
“You shouldn’t have. What did you talk about?”
“Girl stuff.”
That was code for mind your own business. Hendrix started the car to give himself something to do that wasn’t prying into the social life of his mother and fiancée. Nor did he want to obsess over the reasons why it was bothering him.
At least now he had some context for why Roz had all of a sudden joined the Helene Harris fan club and developed a complex about whether she stacked up against other women.
They drove to the restaurant where he’d made reservations and he cursed the silence that had fallen inside the car. Normally he had no problem finding something to talk about, particularly when it came to Roz, but he didn’t want to spend the evening discussing all the ways he planned to have her after the wedding.
Well, he wanted to. There was absolutely nothing wrong with a healthy attraction to the woman you were going to marry. But he genuinely didn’t think he had it in him to talk dirty to Roz and then not follow through yet again.
“Did you and my mother work out the clown stuff?” That was a safe enough subject.
“No. I mean, she mentioned it, but only to say that she’s overcommitted right now and to bug her about it at lunch next week so she can fit it in. She actually said it like that. Bug her.” Roz laughed. “As if I’d pester Helene like that. ‘Mom, Mom, can you be a clown? Pleeeeease?’”
Hendrix did a double take at Roz’s cute little girl voice. And the mention of additional lunches. “You’re having lunch again?”
“Sure, we decided it was important to have a standing lunch date once a week from now on. Is there a problem with that?”
Yes. A huge problem. He didn’t like the idea of his mom getting chummy with Roz. Why? How the hell should he know? He just...didn’t. “Of course not. I was making conversation. This is a date. The whole point is to get to know each other, right?”
“That was how you posed it,” she reminded him with another laugh that should have had him thinking of all the ways he could get her to do that a lot because it meant she was having fun.
Instead, his back was up and his mood had slid into a place normally reserved for tense board meetings. What was wrong with him? Not enough sex lately, most likely.
