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I glanced at the four young Black men on the screen performing the multitude of songs and dance moves and had my doubts about this couple pulling it off at the last minute.
RJ chimed in before I could come up with a way to talk them out of it. “You know, those YouTube videos are cute, but it doesn’t always turn out so well. Plus, you only have a week until the wedding. Can you get your wedding party in sync by then?” RJ’s tone was definitive and parental and rankled me, even though she was trying to talk them out of it.
Aubrey’s face fell, and Thomas placed his hand over hers. “They’d do it for us, don’t you think?”
“Sure. They’ll do it.” Thomas patted her hand, and I noticed how RJ’s eyes strayed to their supportive gesture.
“Great,” I said, setting my palms on the table. “Well, let’s talk logistics, then.”
Aubrey’s phone rang, and she excused herself.
“Lear, a moment?” RJ tapped my arm and nodded toward the hall. Since Thomas had opened an app on his phone the moment his fiancée walked away, I followed RJ and we met in Penny’s conference room. She’d come from her office and wore a gray skirt that was tight enough to give me an idea of her shape. I tried not to feel too guilty about noticing or let my mind move too far from noticingto fantasizing as I wondered how my hands would fit against the curve of her hips.
She held a disposable coffee cup and a Danish, despite the hour, and she stood tall in her high heels. When we’d raced down the aisle, securing those flowers, I’d hoped the heels would slow her down. We’d never said we were racing, but since I knew I couldn’t say anything, that was the only way to channel the energy she kept inspiring—this competitive, aroused, no-filter energy.
I motioned to her snack. “You do know it’s seven at night and not seven in the morning?”
“I am versed on how to tell time, yes.” Her voice was cool, which, oddly, was sexy as hell. “Not that you require an explanation, but I’m practically immune to caffeine at this point. I stay up late, and who can say no to a cheese Danish from Sid’s?”
That comment left my mind wondering about what she got up to in the dead of night, but I tamped it down. “You’re right. They’re the best.”
“This is a bad idea and you know it. Those two are going to pull together something foolish,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Maybe, but it’s what they want.” I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. “We’ll make it work.”
“You think it’s a bad idea, too.”
“Of course I do.”
“I’ve seen that video—which of their grandmas is going to dance down the aisle to Boyz II Men’s ‘I’ll Make Love to You,’ and which of her sorority sisters is going to channel their inner New Edition?”
I chuckled, despite my desire to prove RJ wrong. “I’m a pretty good dancer. I’ll help them.”
She narrowed one eye.
“You don’t believe me?”
She sipped her coffee. “I do not, but you should just follow along with me and I’ll talk them out of it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Because I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. I didn’t say that, of course, because it sounded petty and juvenile. I admired the way her shoulders squared, how her chin jutted out. “Couple wants it, we try it.”
She glowered at me. “It’s not like I really care, but I’m the one who has to stand in front of hundreds of people while this travesty goes down.”
“I think you care. Not that I know why.”God, she’s hot, especially when she’s obstinate like this.
“I don’tcare.It’s not my wedding. You want your couple looking ridiculous at their own ceremony, be my guest.” RJ moved to cross her arms, her eyes further narrowing and sarcasm dripping from her tone, and my body reacted like she’d said, “Go down on me right now? Be my guest!” For the briefest of moments, her eyes flicked down to my chest, and I swear her expression softened to something else. Her plump lips twitched.
“RJ?” I motioned to my face, drawing her eyes up. I imagined her getting flustered, her lips parting, giving away her secret. I’d always been with women who were careful and measured with their words, who would bite their tongue before snapping at me. RJ seemed ready to bite my head off most of the time, and that, paired with the hooded expression I saw a flash of, made me want to remove her panties with my teeth. The fantasy was short lived, though. The lip of her coffee cup caught on her blazer and coffee poured down her body. Insult to injury, her pastry fell to the floor and was immediately doused in the spilled beverage.
Yelping, she leaped backward, and her now-empty cup dropped to the tile floor in the puddle of coffee.
“Shit!” I’d jumped back, too, trying to avoid the mess.
She slid her hands down her dress, sluicing more coffee onto thefloor, brushing at herself in that way someone does when they’re not sure what to do with their hands. “Fuck me,” she muttered and, again, my dick had no damn sense of context.
