AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘I don’t consider myself to be Marnie’s keeper, Miz Carrington,’ he said, in a tight voice, the drawl no longer quite so pronounced. ‘But I am her brother and I intend to do what’s best for her—with or without your consent.’
Her lips curved in a wry smile. Talk about getting hoisted by your own petard. It seemed Carter’s perfect manners were going to prevent him from saying what he actually thought about her and her friends. Well, she hoped swallowing that down gave him heartburn. ‘And why is what’s best for her your decision and not hers?’
The muscle in his jaw pulsed. ‘Because she’s eighteen,’ he said. But she could see what he wasn’t saying in that look of calm condescension. And because she’s a woman.
‘How old are you, Carter?’ she asked.
The frown deepened, as if he were looking for the trap. ‘I’m twenty-two.’
‘And how old were you when you got engaged?’ she asked, although she already knew the answer, because Marnie had talked about her big brother’s insanely romantic engagement to her best friend, Missy, incessantly when she’d first arrived at the house.
‘It’s not the same thing,’ he said, seeing the trap too late.
‘Umm-hmm. And why ever not? You were the same age as Marnie is now and yet you were mature enough to decide you were going to love your childhood sweetheart for the rest of your life.’ She said the words with conviction, but c
ouldn’t help feeling a little sick to her stomach.
When had she ever been that romantic? That naïve? To believe that anyone was worth that much of a commitment?
‘It wasn’t like that. Missy and I are well suited. And it was the right thing to do after my father died. My mother and Marnie needed stability and they were both in favour of the match.’
It was Gina’s turn to frown. And not just because Carter’s description of the engagement was in sharp contrast to the wildly romantic whirlwind of love and devotion Marnie had described. Who the hell proposed marriage because they were being sensible? And he’d made it sound as if the primary motivation had been the approval of his mother and his kid sister? She was by no means a hopeless romantic, but wasn’t that taking filial duty a bit too far?
‘But you do love Missy, right?’ The question popped out before she could stop it.
He looked taken aback. As well he might, because this really was none of her business. But curiosity consumed her. He’d only been eighteen. What on earth had he been thinking settling for ‘The One’ so young? What about hormones? And exploring your options? And sowing wild oats?
‘Of course I love Missy. She’s going to be my wife in two weeks’ time. We’re friends, we understand each other and we both want the same things out of life.’
None of which sounded remotely like convincing reasons for proposing marriage when you were just out of high school. But what did she know? ‘What things?’
He shrugged, the movement stiff and defensive. And she realised for the first time that he looked unsure of himself. ‘Companionship, trust, compatibility, children. Eventually.’ The affirmation came out in a monotone, as if he’d rehearsed it a hundred times.
‘Why, Rhett,’ Gina said, fluttering her eyelashes and affecting a simpering Southern drawl. ‘I can see how you must have swept Missy off her feet with that proposal. How romantic of you to compile a checklist for the perfect marriage.’
‘Missy knows she can trust me,’ he said firmly, the look on his face delightfully annoyed and confused. Clearly the Sainted Carter wasn’t used to being teased—or questioned about his carefully planned love life. ‘That’s what matters.’
‘Really? What about love and passion and adventure and...’ she groped for another quality that might get the message across to this indomitable and resolutely anti-romantic man ‘...and the promise of multi-orgasmic sex for the rest of your life?’
His gaze flicked to her cleavage, then shot back to her face and a dull shade of red rose up his neck and made his tan glow on chiselled cheekbones. He looked away, taking a large fortifying gulp of the cola. And suddenly she knew.
Oh. My. God.
Carter Price had been eighteen when he’d proposed to his very-appropriate fiancée. And if Missy was as much of a sanctimonious prude as her best friend, Marnie, had been when she’d first arrived from Savannah—wearing a little promise ring on her finger that signified her purity, and had needled Gina no end—then Missy had probably demanded she remain a virgin until her wedding night.
She searched the long tanned fingers of Carter’s left hand wrapped around the cola bottle. Was it possible that Carter had made a similar promise? Hadn’t Marnie said boys wore them too, when Gina had lit into her for being a disgrace to Women’s Liberation. Gina held back the gasp as she spotted the silver band on Carter’s pinkie, identical to the celibacy ring that Marnie no longer wore when she was at college.
Oh, no, surely not? A man who was as virile and handsome and overwhelmingly male as he was, and who looked at her with that dark sexual intensity he couldn’t hide? That man hadn’t had sex since he was eighteen? It was just too delicious. And too ridiculous. No wonder he looked so tense and uptight. And no wonder he was far too involved in Marnie’s personal life, because he clearly didn’t have one of his own.
An intervention was called for.
The surge of excitement and anticipation gripped Gina’s chest—and some other interesting parts of her anatomy. Suddenly she had the perfect way to bring the Sainted Carter down a peg or two. Prove to him that he was as human and fallible and sinful as the rest of them.
She was after all an accomplished flirt. And there was no harm in simply flirting with the man. Especially a man as stuffy and controlling and undeniably hot as this one. And once she’d proved to Carter Price that bad girls were people too, once she’d reduced him to a puddle of overactive hormones and sexual desperation, she’d be able to get him to agree to anything.... Even letting his innocent kid sister go on a riotous road trip with three loose women.
The man was celibate. He hadn’t had sex in four long years. The challenge was simply irresistible. She’d lost her virginity at sixteen with her thirty-five-year-old biology teacher at St Bude’s boarding school, and she hadn’t looked back since. Carter Price wouldn’t know what hit him. And while she wouldn’t do the dirty deed with him, because she never poached on another woman’s territory, why shouldn’t she take her flirtation far enough to get Saint Carter primed and ready for his wedding night? Missy would end up thanking her.
* * *
