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“So you told her that you and Ashleigh are married? What use is lying to her?”
I look away.
“Oh my God. You are married.” Her voice reached an ear-splitting shriek as her hand connected with my cheek. The crack bounced off the walls in the small entrance hall. “How could you?”
It stung. Physically and emotionally. My sister has never hit me before. It stunned us both into silence. When I broke free from the shock, it was on the tip of my tongue to tell her the truth. That we married less than twenty-four hours ago, while we were drunk, and neither of us remembers doing it. But she declared me a heartless bastard and stormed out.
So now I’m being punished by my sister two-fold. The other groomsmen and bridesmaids were excused from their duties and our table long ago. They’re already settled, talking with relatives, friends, and other guests, propping up the bar, or they’ve taken leave of absence to enjoy the hotel’s casino.
But not me.
No, I’m sitting next to my wife. Listening to Darryl, who’s already taken up the best part of the coffee course, apologizing for shouting at us earlier and trying to convince Mimi how sorry he is. Mimi is distracted, either by Jules and her glares at me, or by her anger toward Ashleigh.
I haven’t made up my mind about which, because concentrating is incredibly difficult when Ash looks tastier than the dessert by the hotel’s world-famous dessert chef. She is distracting my every thought when she—her thigh brushes against me as she turns to ask the waiter for another glass of cranberry juice and exposes me to a wall of her sun kissed silky skin—well, when she does that.
The loose-fitting, high-collared halter neck dress clings to her every curve. The low light inside the hotel's five-star restaurant catches the black satin in all the right places. And that hair!
It’s only a haircut, not even a new one. She’d gone back to the look she had in her first year of college but... Goddamn! I’d seen her wear it in four different styles in the last twenty-four hours and every time I just want to… touch!
Tonight, the whole damn ensemble makes me want to touch.
I stifle a groan and lean back in my chair. “Give up, D,” I advise as I force my attention away from Ashleigh and toward Mimi. “Yeah, she's pissed. But it’s all directed at the super-bi—”
Ashleigh swings around to face me. A smile curves on her mouth as her right brow lifts, challenging me to break our agreement.
“I mean super big sister of hers,” I correct.
Ashleigh bursts into laughter as Darryl lets out a strangled cry. “Super bi-big sister?” He glares at me like I’ve grown another head. “Earlier she was a di-di-diamond? What the hell is with the stuttering compliments?”
“Yeah!” Mimi leans forward and lifts her champagne glass. “Anyone would think you've acknowledged there’s a fine line between love and war.”
“Yeah.” I flutter my eyelashes in Ashleigh’s direction. “We have.”
“Oh, Sean.” She sighs while her eyes invite me to play along. “Just so you know,” she entices me further into her game. “I can only put up with you for about twenty-four hours, or I’ll end up killing you.”
She’s playing. I know she’s only playing. But it doesn't stop my heart rate from soaring, or my voice from thickening with desire. Didn’t I start this? “The feeling's mutual.”
“Stop it!” Mimi cries out in the background. “Darryl! It’s your wedding. Tell them to behave!”
“Sean…”
Ashleigh’s hand reaches for a napkin on the table. I barely notice from the corner of my eye because I’m too busy watching the emerald irises—the real color of her eyes—change color. Deeper and deeper, the longer I stare into them.
“You have something on your…” Her gentle hand touches my cheek. Slow. Without the napkin it would be a caress. “…got it.”
Darryl mutters an oath and pushes to his feet. “Come dance with me, Mimi. We have to do something to get away from this freak show.”
As soon as they’re a respectable distance, I’m going to pull away. I’m going to break eye contact. I must because we’re at a dangerous proximity and I’m dangerously close to leaning forward and kissing her. I can’t do that because we’re only playing, and she’s only acting. This is for Julia’s benefit.
But I can’t let go. It’s like the year didn’t happen—hell, it’s like the last eight years haven’t happened—and I really want to keep that between us. We were friends before lovers. Even during all the complicated times, she’d come running when I needed her, and I’d have done the same. Maybe we can find our way back to that.
Ashleigh breaks eye contact first. Her hand falls away from my face and I look toward the dance floor to hide my disappointment. It’s full of wedding guests and restaurant diners swaying to the dulcet tones of the singer behind the piano.
“You’ve never danced with me in public before, Ash.” I push to my feet and hold out my hand. Her gaze never breaks away from mine, so I see the hesitation in them. I issue a challenge she won’t refuse. “Let’s really freak them out.”
She slips her fingers into my palm and stands. She’s smaller than she was last night. In heels, she’s almost as tall as I am, but once again, she’s wearing satin ballet slippers beneath her floor length dress. “Are you the new face of ballet shoes?”
“What?” she asks, a little stunned, so I nod at her feet and she looks down. “Oh, Krystal wears heels, I don’t.” She announces as though they’re two completely different people.
