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Bonbons were a part of his past, and now, here was this woman with two of them embroidered on her chest.
What did that even mean?
Nothing, it didn’t mean anything. He brushed off the association.
“Are you dressed up like a chocolate ballerina bridesmaid for the wedding?”
There’s a statement he’d never expected to utter.
She tapped the lollipop to her lips. “Not exactly.”
“Those are your clothes? You put that outfit together on purpose?”
She scoffed. “Yes, I did. I’m damn proud of it.”
This wasn’t adding up. Who dressed like that on purpose?
He decided to change tack. “Why did you lie to crash some Vegas wedding? What are you really doing?”
Here’s what he knew for sure: Harper Presley was dressed as a sexy bonbon, and the woman had conned her way into a gladiator-meets-ballerina Vegas wedding. And she’d lied to her friends about a piano teacher conference, but why?
She ran the slick lollipop across her bottom lip. The wheels in her head were turning. She glanced at Katrina and Jude, then pushed onto her tiptoes and rested her hand on his chest. “I’m going to level with you.”
“I’m listening.” He was listening, but that didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her closer.
It happened reflexively.
He inhaled, and sweet Christ, she smelled good enough to eat.
She tempted him like a piece of naughty, delectable candy.
Harper Presley proved to be the ultimate distraction in her bonbon ballerina disguise. And he knew that if he got a taste, he wouldn’t be satisfied with only one bite.
This was the kind of temptation that could cost a man his very soul.
“Harper,” he whispered, able to taste the syllables.
She chewed her lip, then waved for him to lean in closer. “I might have told a teeny-tiny white lie that got me added to Katrina and Jude’s wedding party. Go with it.”
“Just go with it?” he repeated.
She pulled back and looked him square in the eyes. “This has been the worst day of my life. I have one night to lose control and forget about tomorrow. I need this. I need Katrina and Jude.”
“For what?”
“For the free watered-down drinks and unlimited shrimp cocktail.” She rested her forehead on his chest. “I’m about to lose everything because I’m not a poop kink porn star.”
Sweet Christ! He was not expecting that.
He tipped up her chin. “Did you saypoop kinkporn star?”
She gestured to the chocolates printed on her boobs. “I’m a bonbon, not bang-bang.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Are you on drugs-drugs?”
This conversation was getting crazier by the second. He tried to assess her pupils, but it was too dark.
“I’m not on drugs,” she lamented. “I’m a woman with zero prospects. They even took Carol.”
