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When he collected her close to him for their dance, an idea popped into her head. She pressed even more firmly against him.
She could have blamed the champagne they’d drunk for the completely inappropriate path her brain was currently skipping down, but only two glasses after a heaping plateful of food and cake wasn’t strong enough to be held responsible. Maybe tonight could be slightly more traditional than she once believed.
“You’re my hero, you know that?”
He pulled back far enough to stare deep into her eyes without loosening his tight hold on her. “What?”
She sighed slightly and smiled. “You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to rescue me and you most definitely didn’t have to help my family when they’ve been nothing but assholes to you. But you did. And you did it just because I asked…even before I drunkenly told you the whole story.” She winced. “Sorry about that. Again.”
His blue irises shimmered with amusement. “You’re actually pretty damn cool when you’re completely shit-faced.” He brushed his lips across her cheek and moved to her ear. “And marrying you is my pleasure.”
She turned her lips inward and bit down on them then laid her head on his chest.
The rest of the night she refused to release her hold on his hand. He gave her a single, quizzical look at first, then fell into the routine to keep up appearances.
Several hours later they arrived at the door of the luxury hotel suite Wyatt and Georgia had booked for them as a wedding gift after hearing they had no honeymoon plans. Dean swiped the keycard into the slot and propped the door open with one hip.
He laid a hand on her stomach, stopping her from entering. “What the heck, Jilly? Don’t you know anything about weddings and thresholds and all that romantic shit?” His grin widened. “Are we gonna need to queue up the reality TV tonight to remind you?”
Words failed to leave her mouth as Dean put one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees and lifted her close to his chest. Effortlessly he stepped across the threshold, punctuated by the door clicking closed behind them.
Their eyes locked in an intense stare she wasn’t certain she could identify. Her heart screamed that she should confess her feelings, but the quiet voice of reason in her brain quickly brought her back to reality.
They might not have a happily ever after, but this next eighteen months certainly didn’t need to a celibate bore. And she deserved a few happy memories to take with her when he left.
She set the small purse that matched her gown on the half-circle table placed by the entrance and turned to face him. “I have a proposition for you.”
His mouth quirked into a half smile and he leaned back against the door. “I’m pretty sure you and your harebrained schemes are what got us hitched in the first place. What’s your latest idea?”
Jillian closed the few feet between them. “Eighteen months is a hell of a long time for me to ask a Casanova like yourself to stay single.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed several times. “We talked about that. It’s fine.”
She shook her head slowly and tugged the tie free from around his neck. “You’re my best friend and I trust you implicitly. Just because this isn’t a normal, lovey dovey marriage doesn’t mean it can’t be…enjoyable.”
His eyes widened to the size of saucers. The shock value would have been highly entertaining if every cell on her body wasn’t buzzing with unfulfilled desire.
“Wh-what the hell are you getting at?”
“How would you feel about making this more like friends with some very fun benefits?” She took a deep breath, her bravado threatening to slip. “We care about each other, we trust each other, and, let’s face it, you’re pretty frickin’ cute. What do you say?”
Chapter Twenty
Dean
Ten Years Earlier
Tracy Carlisle propped her hands on her hips and glared at her youngest son, a penetrating stare that never failed to make Dean squirm. “I don’t think I remember making it an actual suggestion, I told you to do it.”
But it’s ridiculous, it’s not like it’s a date.He kept the comment and the attitude to himself, certain it would result in the loss of the car keys for a week at least. “Yes, ma’am, but it’s just Jillian.”
His mother lifted both her brows. “I don’t care if you’re taking one of Wyatt’s horses as a date, when you take a girl to homecoming, you buy her a corsage. Now hurry up and see if you can find somewhere within a ten mile radius that hasn’t already sold out.”
Dean dropped his head and stared at his shuffling feet. “Yes, ma’am.” He dutifully called local florists and cursed softly under his breath at the realization that his mother was right and he didn’t find one that had flowers in stock until the third one.
“What color is her dress?” He repeated the question to the woman on the other end of the call. “Well, how the heck am I supposed to know that?”
A damning sigh came across the line and made him frown into the phone as though the woman could see him. “Because she will want her corsage to match her dress. Could you imagine if you had a tiger lily corsage and a maroon gown? That would be an absolute atrocity.”
