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He’d asked her because—
“Yeah.” He flexed his hands on the wheel. “They’ll approve.”
“Exactly. So stop hassling me about being a tech girl.” With atskof exasperation, she drained her cherry coke and stuck the cup in the cup-holder. “But for the record, you’d better tell me what you’ve had going on with Madeline.”
“What makes you think I had something going on with her?”
“Oh, please. Everyone knows she has the hots for you. Well, most of the women in Bliss Cove have the hots for you, but Madeline makes no secret of it. I saw the way she was looking at you. Like she wanted to eat you up.”
Grant’s jaw tightened. That was the way he’d felt aboutRorylast night. He could have devoured her.
“Just because she was looking at me doesn’t mean we’ve ever had a thing.”
“Have you?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.”He shot her a glare, suddenly annoyed by her prying. “I’ve never dated Madeline Fox or hooked up with her. I’ve never wanted to.”
Rory slipped on her sunglasses and looked out the side window. Though she spoke under her breath, he distinctly heard her murmur, “Good.”
* * *
Rory didn’t usually like long car rides—the heat, the sun, the smell of asphalt—but the three-hour drive with Grant ended up being quite enjoyable.
Once he stopped griping about her phone and she stopped wondering about his sex life, they had lengthy conversations about movies (he was a fan of dramas and thrillers, she preferred raunchy comedies), Greek mythology (ingrained in her since childhood),Game of Thrones(they had to agree to disagree), and whether or not the Bliss Cove Library was haunted (Rory =not a chance, Grant =absolutely).
He indulged her reggae playlist, asked about her sisters, and refrained from comment when she bought a candy bar and a bag of Sour Patch Kids during a gas stop. By the time he pulled into the parking lot of San Francisco’s Ritz-Carlton, she believed this whole weekend would be easier than she’d thought.
Only when she was standing in the bathroom of the fancy hotel, pulling her hair into a sedate knot at her nape, was she beset by an attack of nerves. She was pretending to be the girlfriend of the son of the man who’d founded Intellix…and the rest of his family and guests at his brother’s wedding.
While Rory prided herself on her many talents—a natural facility for math, data processing, a good memory, the ability to see through bullshit—actinghad never been one of them. She’d never even been a tree in an elementary school play.
“You okay in there?” Grant called.
“I’ll be out in a sec.” Skimming her hands over her hips, she studied herself in the mirror. Callie’s pale blue sheath was both elegant and understated, and the matching cashmere cardigan would hide the circuit board tattoo decorating her upper arm.
She swiped on her lipstick and walked out of the bathroom. The door adjoining their rooms was open, and Grant stood at the mirror in his room, knotting his tie. He turned, scanning her from head to toe so thoroughly that her self-consciousness kicked into gear.
“You look great,” he said.
“So do you.”
Her remark was an understatement. She’d never seen him in a suit before. He looked almost like a stranger—his crisp white shirt fit him to perfection, and his silk tie nestled right in the hollow of his strong throat.
“Guess we both clean up pretty good.” He pulled on his suit jacket and buttoned it. “Ready to face the gauntlet?”
“Do we get to raid the minibar when we get back?”
“Definitely.”
“Then I’m ready.” She picked up her sweater, inhaling as she passed him so she could catch the scent of his aftershave.
As they walked down to the hotel’s dining room, he settled his hand on her lower back. Rory’s heart jumped. His broad palm burned heat clear up her spine.
“Okay if I touch you in public?” He gave her a rueful glance. “Girlfriend and all.”
