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But I still wouldn’t mind, at all, if he took a look at me in this dress and wanted to fuckmeagain.
Sad.
I glanced at Mom, and she gave me a look of motherly affection that made my throat close up a little. Her gray eyes sparkled prettily over her flute of champagne, and it struck me, as it often did, how beautiful she was. It also struck me that Mireille had just finished her presumably eloquent toast and I’d missed most of it.
I looked away. It was too hard to keep eye contact with Mom when I had Shane on the brain.
I downed what was left of my champagne, and a waiter appeared to discreetly refill it. I’d been keeping the catering staff busy all evening. That sweat on his brow? All me.
I took a fresh sip of the Ruinart. Mom was so obsessed with everything French, sometimes I could hardly believe she was marrying a man who wasn’t.
When I was sure Mom’s gaze had moved along to something else, I eyed the empty archway to the front foyer, for at least the one-hundredth time, anticipating the silhouette of a man I both dreaded and was somehow dying to see.
“So, what am I preparing myself for here?” Alyssa whispered, leaning into me, because the girl was like a horny clairvoyant. If I had even a wisp of something sex-related on my mind, she was all over it. “Every time one of the catering staff walks in, I’m like salivating to see if it’s him. Am I gonna want to slap him as soon as I meet him or rake my nails down his chest?”
Probably both.“You know those men you see in advertisements for eyeglasses, with the beautiful lips and perfect jawline?” I whispered back. “That. Except this one is also a battered gladiator who just slayed the beast and his prize is that he gets to fuck you. Upside-down.”
“Holy shit. You need to write a romance novel or something.”
“Trust me. There is zero romance involved here. If he makes eye contact with you, you will insta-hate him.”
She gave my knee a reassuring squeeze under the table. “I hate him already for what he did to you. I don’t care how pretty he is. Or how charming he pretends to be.”
I looked at her in alarm. It never even occurred to me before that bringing my bestie to this thing might go sour on me. She was here to support me. But I’d never considered that he might actually try to charm her.
Oh, God. He might.
“Please, do not check him out,” I implored her. “Not when he can see you. I’ll die.”
“Screw that. I would never. Anyone who treats you the way he did is dead ugly to me, babe.”
I exhaled. “And that is why I’m in love with you.”
She tapped her champagne glass to mine and we took a sip in unison.
Then I realized Aunt Marie had just launched into a toast and Mom was looking at me again. So I returned to performing my best impression of “wedding shower guest at rapt attention.”
“Just don’t get all stressed out about it tonight, okay?” Alyssa whispered, when Mom had looked away again. “Whether he shows up or not. Don’t let it ruin your night. Just because of that one night and the way he hurt you afterwards. It wassolong ago.”
Yup. It really was.
But it was all flooding back tonight, swimming around my head in the champagne-and-paralyzer soup.
Shane was, hands down, the hottest man I’d ever met. But that was only part of the problem. I’d met some hot men. I mean, technically you could’ve argued that one of his adoptive brothers or either of Danica’s rock star husbands were better looking. It really depended on your tastes. But I’d never had my panties flood just having a conversation with any of those men. Or been kissed, licked, sucked and fucked to multiple orgasms by those men.
I could feel it right now—the electric shock of kissing him, the thrill of it skittering over my skin and sparking hotly in my belly. The memory was surprisingly sharp, kept alive by too many furtive pokes at the replay button in my brain.
I applauded Marie’s toast when everyone else did, and then Joss stood up to speak. Joss was all class, like his dad; the toast was probably good. But Alyssa was right. The caterers were distracting.
Wait staff streamed in from the kitchen serving up desserts, courtesy of Aunt Mireille’s bakery, and each time a new body came through the door, I looked over, half-expecting Shane to stride in… the chandelier light glinting off his thick, silken dark hair… the way it looked the first time I ever saw him… glittering with rain droplets… Or maybe he emerged from the pool behind the house, his tall, athletic form glistening wet, the water shimmering on his dripping abs, his swim trunks glued to his—
“Jolie.” Dani’s tone snapped me out of my mental derailment. I gathered it was about the fourth time she’d said my name. Seated on my other side, she gestured at the waiter who was offering coffee.
“No, thank you.” I waved him on. I already had three drinks in front of me. A liqueur had been placed next to the other two. I raised the glass at Dani and took a sip, humming in pleasure as the sweet, delicious framboise flooded my tongue.
Dani raised her glass, narrowing her eyes at me over the rim.
When she looked away, I darted another glance at every entrance to the dining room. Couldn’t he have at least had the decency to get here before I passed out?
