Читать книгу A Convenient Texas Wedding - Sheri WhiteFeather, Sheri WhiteFeather - Страница 9

Two

“Are you interested?” Rand asked. “Will you consider marrying me?”

Allison fidgeted in her seat. A Texas heartthrob, a man she’d been crushing on, was offering to make her his wife and help her get the green card she so urgently wanted. To some women, this would be a no-brainer. But it wasn’t that simple. Not to her, anyway. And especially not if he tried to lure her into bed.

She said, “If I agree to do this, there isn’t going to be any intimacy. We can’t...”

He turned more fully toward her, one of his legs nearly bumping hers. “Sleep together?”

Her pulse jumped. “Yes.”

He roamed his gaze over her. “I didn’t think it would be an option.”

“You didn’t?” This was the most uncomfortable conversation she’d ever had. And the way he was checking her out with those wild green eyes was only making it worse. “I assumed that maybe you would...”

“I would what? Try to seduce you? I’m used to having affairs, so, yeah, it crossed my mind. But you’re different from anyone else I’ve ever been with. You just seem so—” he brought his hand to her face, skimming his knuckles along her cheek “—innocent, somehow.”

My goodness, my Guinness. For someone who wasn’t supposed to be seducing her, he was doing a dandy job of it now. She couldn’t think clearly, with the way he was touching her.

She forced herself to say, “You shouldn’t be doing that.”

He lowered his hand. “I shouldn’t?”

“No.” She didn’t want her attraction to him distorting her common sense. “I still need to decide if I’m going to marry you.”

“Well, are you?”

“It scares me, doing something so fraudulent.” Trusting him scared her, too. But was she making too much of that? He wasn’t a sociopath like Rich. He was just a man who needed to reform his image. His womanizing image, she reminded herself. He wasn’t exactly an angel.

She didn’t know what to do. If she married him for her green card, she would be committing a crime. If she didn’t, she would be dragging her sorry arse back to Kenmare.

“I’d rather have an answer sooner than later,” he said, “but you can sleep on it, if you think that’ll help.”

“It won’t.” She didn’t want to think about sleeping on anything—or with anyone, for that matter.

“Then what’s your decision?”

She considered her choices. Stay and regain her confidence? Or retreat and return to Ireland? Given her plight thus far, marrying him was beginning to seem like her only option. And at this point, she would rather take her chances with Rand than go home, lost and bleating, like the poor little lamb she kept comparing herself to.

She squeezed her eyes closed. A second later, she reopened them, just to say that she’d gone into this with her eyes wide-open. “I’ll do it.”

“You will?” He doubled-checked. “For sure?”

“Yes.” She was going to take the plunge and become his newly minted bride, fulfilling her dream of living in the States, of working toward her independent future, of being her own woman. Starting now, she thought. Determined to show him that she wasn’t a pushover, she reiterated, “I meant what I said before. The no-sex clause still applies.”

“I understand. But we’re still going to have to be affectionate with each other. We can’t behave like strangers out there.”

“Don’t worry...” She paused, giving herself a moment to breathe a little deeper. “I’ll play my part to the best of my ability.” She would do what she had to do, short of tumbling into bed with him.

He smiled a bit too sexily. “At least there’s no denying that we have chemistry.”

In lieu of a response, she fought the warm, slippery feeling that came over her. But who wouldn’t be magnetically drawn to Rand? Forbidden as he was, she could only imagine what climbing under the covers with him would be like. Hot and thrilling nights, she surmised, where she could let her inner sex kitten out.

Oh, sure. As if she actually had one of those. Even with as deeply as she’d fallen for Rich and his fake persona, she’d been a bit too restrained in his bed. She’d never thoroughly let loose with anyone, and this wasn’t the time to start. She was absolutely, positively not sleeping with Rand.

“Allison?”

She started at the sound of his voice. “Yes?”

“We need to come up with a cover story about how we fell in love so quickly. But I have an idea about that.”

“You do?” She cleared the erotic thoughts from her mind. “What is it?”

He waited until a passerby was out of earshot before he replied, “I thought we could say that we’ve been seeing each other behind closed doors. That I approached you privately after Will’s funeral and we started to get to know each other then. With everything that’s been going on this past month, I’ve been trying to keep a low profile and stay out of the limelight, so it’s actually the perfect time for me to say that I’ve been in a secret relationship.”

“That should work.” Clearly Rand had a gift for storytelling. So did Allison, of course. Fiction was her forte. “But for the people who know that Will is still alive and that Rich swindled me, we’ll have to tell a more detailed tale. We can still use the secret-dating ruse, but we’ll also have to say that you helped me overcome the pain of what he did to me. Only that I didn’t want to tell anyone that we were together for fear that they would judge me.”

“That sounds believable to me. I can more or less say the same thing, but in reverse. I was worried that if people knew we got together so quickly, they might accuse me of taking advantage of you. But now that we’re bursting at the seams and eager to marry before you’re forced to leave the country, we can’t keep it a secret any longer.”

She marveled at their savvy. “I’m impressed with how easily we came up with an explanation.” Within no time, they’d concocted a believable romantic backstory. “You want to hear something funny? When I was a teenager going to school dances and meeting local boys, I had daydreams about stealing away from Ireland and marrying an American man. I’ve been consumed with your country since I was a girl. I used to write poems to my fantasy husband, spilling my heart out to him.”

He touched her hand, ever so lightly. “Maybe you can incorporate that into the green card interview. The more we reveal about ourselves, the more authenticity it will lend to our case.”

Suddenly she was getting nervous again, overwhelmed that she’d actually agreed to marry him. “You don’t think it will make me sound foolish?”

“No. Not at all. And I’m glad that you’re already sharing personal information about yourself with me. We’re both going to have to do a lot of that. We’ll need to know each other from the inside out before we meet with Immigration and tackle that interview.”

She anxiously admitted, “The most challenging part for me will be lying to my family, calling and telling them that I met the man of my dreams. But the truth would be worse. They would never approve of a ploy like this.”

“My brother is going to be my biggest obstacle. It’s going to take a miracle for him to believe I’ve given up my bachelor ways and am capable of being a loyal husband.”

“I remember seeing him at Will’s funeral.” Although Rand and his brother didn’t look that much alike, they had the same mesmerizing mouth and sculpted jaw, coming from the same handsome genes. “His name is Trey, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Aside from our maternal grandmother, he’s the only family I have left. Our mother died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry.” He seemed genuinely hurt that his ma was gone. She noticed the pain in his eyes. Had she misjudged him earlier when she suspected he’d been embellishing his confessions?

“How many immediate family members do you have?” he asked.

She concentrated on his question. “I’ve got my parents, one set of grandparents and a brother who owns a media company that’s headquartered in London. He divides his time between England and Ireland. Farming will always be in his blood. The Cartwrights have been in Kenmare for six generations.”

“Is your father a traditional man?”

“Yes, he is. Angus is his name, and he adores me like no other. He fusses over Ma, too. As much as I hate to say this, he’s going to be disappointed if you don’t call him and ask for my hand in marriage. But I would never expect you to actually do it.”

“Maybe I should, if it’ll make things easier.”

She nearly gaped at him. “Really, you’d appease my da?”

He glanced at a giant oak towering nearby. “I’d rather appease him than have him think that you’re marrying a guy who doesn’t respect his values.”

“That’s a good point.” She followed his line of sight to the tree, becoming aware of the tangled shoots creeping up its massive trunk. “He and Ma have specific ideas about marriage. They have opinions about everything. I love them dearly, of course, but sometimes they still treat me like a child. Ma is especially good at meddling.”

“My family rarely sticks their nose in my business. My dad did, but I wouldn’t call what he did meddling. With him, it was more like bullying.”

She felt badly for what he’d endured. Her parents wouldn’t dream of bullying her. Everything they did was out of tenderness and care.

“Does your father Skype?” he asked. “Maybe I can video chat with him to ask for his blessing to marry you.”

“Yes, he uses Skype. Ma does, too. So she will probably nose in on your talk with him and want to meet you, too. But before you contact them, I’ll have to call them and pave the way. They’re going to be stunned by my hasty marriage plans.”

“We’re going to shock everyone.” He paused, seeming reflective for a moment. “Do you still have the poems you wrote to your fantasy husband? Did you keep them?”

“No.” She was feeling reflective, too. “But sometimes I wish I would have. I’ve always been a fanciful girl. Too fanciful, I suppose.”

He searched her gaze, as if he was looking for something in her character that he’d missed, something he hadn’t seen before. Then, in a near whisper, he said, “I think we should kiss.”

She started. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Kiss.” He repeated, his tone a little huskier, a little more seductive. “We’re going to have to get used to kissing. We’ll be expected to do it at the wedding, at the very least.”

He was right. But with the penetrating look he was giving her, she was getting downright dizzy. She even gripped the underside of the bench, latching on to it with all her might. “You want to do it right now?”

He moved closer. “Now is as good a time as any.”

She filled her lungs with as much oxygen as she could get, preparing herself, trying to stay calm. He leaned into her, and her heart boomeranged to her throat, before it zoomed back to her chest.

Staying calm wasn’t possible.

As soon as his lips touched hers, she closed her eyes and asked the heavens to protect her. He invoked a carnal yearning in her, a spell he obviously knew how to cast.

He was good at this.

So very good.

An expert in every way.

The tip of his tongue teased hers, and she moaned like the sinner, the soon-to-be fake bride she’d agreed to become.

He cupped the back of her head and drew her even closer. He played with her hair, splaying his big masculine fingers through it, and she imagined making down and dirty love with him. The sex she refused to have.

Allison knew she was in for a rocky awakening, being tied to this wickedly delicious man. She tightened her hold on the bench. Only now she was using it to stop herself from putting her hands where they didn’t belong. If one little kiss could affect her this way, she was going to have to fight to keep from mauling him—every desperate day that she was his wife.

* * *

Rand wanted to push his tongue deeper into her mouth, to nibble, to bite, gobble Allison right up, but he was holding back, trying to keep their arrangement in perspective. She tasted wholesomely, sensuously sweet, like honey straight from the jar. In his hungry mind, it could’ve been oozing down their bodies in warm, sticky rivulets.

Before his zipper turned tight and he got unbearably hard, he opened his eyes and eased away from her. It was going to be hell restraining his libido around her. But she’d implemented that no-sex clause, and he had no choice except to abide by it. Rand needed a wife to clean up his image and try to save his job, but he knew better than to take advantage of Allison. He probably could’ve gotten one of his high-society lovers to agree to marry him, but he’d chosen Allison instead. And not just because he assumed that she might want a green card. Her sweet nature was part of it, too. He thought that marrying a good girl would help his cause.

Her eyes fluttered open, and he stared at her. Even with the way she’d moaned, with the soft murmurs she’d made, she still struck him as innocent. One tantalizing lip-lock wasn’t going to change his opinion of her.

She was still the same woman who’d been hurt by Rich Lowell, who’d been heartlessly used by him. He didn’t know what that bastard had said or done to con her out of her life savings. To Rand, those circumstances weren’t clear. But this wasn’t the time to ask.

She peeled her fingers away from the underside of the bench, and he realized that she’d been holding on to it the entire time their mouths had been fused together.

“We did it,” he said. “Our first kiss.” He figured that talking about it was better than sitting there in awkward silence.

She seemed to agree. She quickly replied, “Where I come from, kissing is sometimes called shifting. We also say ‘the shift’ or ‘to get the shift.’”

“So I just got the shift?” he quipped, without really expecting her to answer. His gaze was still locked on to hers. He knew other green-eyed people, but he’d never met anyone whose eyes mirrored his in the way hers did. He sometimes got accused of wearing colored contact lenses to enhance his appearance. He doubted anyone would accuse her of that. Everything about her seemed genuine.

She blushed. “In some countries getting the shift refers to sex, but that’s not how we Irish use it. To us, it’s open-mouthed kissing, sort of like getting to first base.”

“Where’d you learn about getting to first base?” Surely, Irish boys didn’t say that when they scored with a girl.

“I picked up most of your slang from watching American movies. The romantic ones are my favorite.”

“Chick flicks.” He should have guessed as much. “You definitely seem like that type.”

She studied him with those matching green eyes. “What inspired you to hatch this plan of yours? When did it occur to you that I might agree to marry you?”

“It was during the last Cattleman’s Club event. I was standing off by myself, stewing about my job. You were there, too, and I overheard you talking to some friends of mine, saying that your visa was getting ready to expire. So later, I looked up your address online and sent you the Mr. X note.”

“I was terribly nervous coming here to meet you,” she confessed, reaching into her skirt pocket and removing a small black object.

He took a closer look and saw that it was a can of pepper spray with a key chain attached. “Was that to use on me?”

She nodded. “In case Mr. X was a nutcase, and he tried to accost me.”

“Maybe I am a nutcase.” Who else, besides a crazy man, would get married to reinvent himself?

“I think I’m one, too.” She returned the pepper spray to her skirt. “So I guess we can be daft together.” She referenced her other pocket, the one that didn’t have the Mace. “I’ve got my ID, my money and a few other essentials tucked away in here. I didn’t bring a purse because I wanted to keep my hands free to fight off Mr. X. I was prepared to scream, too, and alert security if need be.”

“I’m sorry.” He should have known better than to put her in a position that sparked fear. “I should have considered how meeting a stranger might affect you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you acknowledging that.” She dug into her essentials pocket and produced a small tube, which turned out to be lip balm.

When she uncapped it and ran it across her lips, she did it so quickly and efficiently, he suspected that adding moisture to her mouth was a habit. Much too mesmerized, he watched her.

“This is probably going to sound strange,” he said, “but is that honey flavored, by any chance?”

She snapped the cap back on, suddenly aware, it seemed, that his gaze was riveted to her newly waxed lips. “Yes, it is. But why do you ask?”

“Because I tasted it when we were kissing.”

Her skin flushed, her rosy cheeks going rosier. “Should I stop using it?”

“Absolutely not. Use it as much as you want.” He enjoyed knowing where the flavor had come from. “I liked it.” Probably too much, he thought.

She put the lip balm away. “It’s going to be difficult for me to kiss you in front of other people. I don’t normally do things like that.”

“I do it all the time. And if I don’t get romantic with my wife when we’re out and about, the gossipmongers are going to say that I’m not as passionate about you as I’ve been about my other women. And we need to show them that I’m totally enamored with you.”

She looked undecidedly at him. Clearly she didn’t understand him any more than he understood her. They couldn’t be more different from each other.

“Why have you been so public with your private life?” she asked.

“It started as a rebellion, my way of toying with society and thumbing my nose at my dad. And then, later, I just got used to doing socially unacceptable things and giving people something to gossip about. Of course, once social media hit the scene, I used that as my outlet. But at least I never made a sex tape or anything like that.”

She all but blinked at him. “I should hope not.”

With how primly she reacted, he got the sudden urge to tease her, to make things sound bawdier than they were. “Actually, it’s possible I made a tape. There are a few blank periods of my life that I can’t remember. But as far as I know, no tapes have surfaced. You haven’t seen one with me in it, have you?”

“Goodness, no! I don’t watch those.” She crossed her arms over her ample breasts.

If she was trying to hide the fullness of her figure, it wasn’t working. It only made him notice her delectable curves even more. Even in her loose-fitting outfit, a guy could tell what she had going on under there.

He continued his charade. “Are you sure you’re not a sex tape connoisseur?”

“Yes, I—” She stopped and leveled him with an admonishing glare. “Are you mocking me? Is this a prank?”

He nearly cringed at the look she was giving him. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. With all the sordid stuff on the internet about me, I thought a sex tape seemed believable. But I guess I better not tick you off like this when we’re married.”

She sized him up again. “As long as you don’t start talking like a cereal-box leprechaun or spout ‘top of the morning’ to me, I might be able to tolerate you.”

Was she making a joke? He couldn’t tell. Playing it safe, he said, “I’d never do anything that stupid.” A second later, he saw her smile, and he knew he’d been had. He smiled, too, and they both laughed. He enjoyed the rapport they were building, strange as it was. Curious about her creative side, he asked, “What sorts of things do you write?”

“Magazine articles, lifestyle pieces, mostly for women’s publications. But I’ve also been plotting a novel. It’s about an Irish woman who goes to Texas and falls in love. I used to think that it should be a historical tale with the flavor of the Old West. But now that I’m here, seeing everything firsthand, I think a contemporary story might be the way to go. But no matter what time period I use, I want the hero to be the sort of fellow the heroine has to tame.”

The way she was supposed to be taming him in this phony marriage? “That would never work on me, not for real.”

“I know, but I think it does on some men, if they fall truly, madly in love. I’m a firm believer in destiny. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic.” She rocked in her seat. “And I’m still trying to be. I don’t want to lose that part of myself. Or miss the opportunity if the right man comes along.”

Even after everything she’d been through with Rich, she still believed in love? He couldn’t fathom it. Nonetheless, he said, “That’s good, because I need a wife who projects that kind of image.” Even if he didn’t understand her propensity for love, he was glad it was going to play out in their favor. “Are you working on any projects now? Besides plotting the novel?”

“One of the publications I write for asked me to do a series of featured articles for them. I’m just waiting for the contracts to come through.” Her expression turned taut. “I had to borrow from my parents to cover my expenses this month because of what Rich took from me.”

He thought about the prenup she’d readily agreed to sign. “You made it clear that you’re not interested in a financial settlement when this is over, but if you change your mind, we can still implement that.”

“I won’t change my mind. Being independent is important to me. It’s everything, in fact. I don’t want to be beholden to you, Rand. Not for money or anything else.”

“Okay, but I’d still like to set you up with some credit cards while we’re married. You can use them to shop or have lunch with other Texas Cattleman’s Club wives or whatever society women typically do. But mostly you’ll be with me. We’ll need to be seen together as much as possible.” He glanced down at her hands and how simply manicured her nails were. “I’ll be getting you a big-ass diamond to wear, too.”

She widened her eyes. “A big-arse diamond? I’ve never heard it put quite like that before.”

“What can I say? I’m new at this fiancé stuff. But I think you should come home with me.” Clarifying his intention, he added, “For us to get better acquainted and figure out the details of the wedding. If you’re getting hungry, I can order some takeout and have it delivered.”

“Thank you. That’s a nice offer. I’m famished actually. I was too nervous to eat before I came here.”

“Do you need a ride to my place? Or do you have a rental car with you?”

“I need a ride. I haven’t driven in America yet. Being on the other side of the road confuses me. I’ve been taking Uber.”

He stood and offered her his hand. “Ready to go?”

She allowed him to help her up. “Yes, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He escorted her to valet parking so he could pick up his shiny red Porsche. To keep things fresh, Rand leased a different sports car every couple years. He went through women in a lot less time. In fact, he’d never stayed with anyone longer than a few restless months.

He glanced over at Allison. She seemed so foreign standing next to him. Not just the country she was from, but the knowledge, the hard-hitting reality of making her his wife. But if it worked out like it was supposed to, she would be reforming him in the public eye and on social media, too.

Of course he still had to be careful not to corrupt her with his man-whore ways. Even with the no-sex clause, he was pretty damned sure he could seduce her. Not that he was going to. As tantalizing as she was, he needed to keep his head on straight, to follow the rules. Trouble was, Rand was a rule breaker by nature. Restricting himself from the lust-driven pleasure of a woman’s company wasn’t something he’d ever had to do until now.

A young valet brought the car around, and Rand slipped the kid a generous tip. Once he and Allison were settled into their seats, he put the Porsche in gear and peeled out of the driveway.

As he headed for Pine Valley, the area where he lived, he asked her, “What should we order? What sort of food do you like?”

“I’m partial to the deep-dish pepperoni pizza you have here. I’m a hearty eater, just so you know. A bit of a pig, actually. I don’t mess around where my meals are concerned.”

Her candor amused him. She had a knack for admitting what some people would consider faults. “Your enthusiasm for food is refreshing.”

“I’m glad you think so. Because it’s something you’re going to have to get used to.”

He stole a glance at her lusciously curved body. “You can eat as much as you want around me.” Trying to keep his errant thoughts off her voluptuous figure, he focused on the road.

A moment later, they engaged in chitchat. They revealed how old they were and when they were born. She was thirty-one, and he was thirty-seven. Interestingly enough, their birthdays were only a few days apart. They were both Aries. Normally he didn’t follow that stuff. But she did, apparently, referring to their astrological sign as “hard-headed rams.” He supposed that part was true, with as determined as they were to make this marriage situation work.

When he reached the entrance of Pine Valley, he stopped at the gate. He had a key code, but a live guard was on duty, too.

Once he moved forward, Allison glanced out her window. “Wow! This is a grand area. Look at all the mansions. You live in one of these all by yourself?”

“Yep. Just me.” Pine Valley was a private, upscale community with million-dollar homes, an 18-hole golf course, a fancy clubhouse and other exclusive amenities.

“You don’t have a household staff?”

“I use a chef delivery service that comes by a few times a week and leaves my meals in the fridge or the freezer, based on the menus I choose. I use a cleaning service, too. I’d never have anyone live with me. I don’t like having people under foot.” He turned down his street and approached his home. The Tudor-style architecture featured heavy brick chimneys, decorative stonework, casement windows and a steeply pitched roof. An immaculate lawn dressed out the yard, with summer flowers garnishing the walkway.

He pulled the Porsche into his garage. His other car was a luxury sedan, another leased vehicle. Nothing was ever permanent in Rand’s mind.

He gestured to the pearly white sedan. “You can drive that one when we’re married.”

“Thank you, but I’d rather not.”

“Because of your discomfort about being on the opposite side of the road?” He didn’t see why that should hold her back. “You plan on driving in the States eventually, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I can wait until I’m ready.”

Had she waited to have sex the first time, too? He suspected that she’d most likely lost her virginity when she was well into her twenties. He doubted that she’d given it up when she was a doe-eyed teen, writing poetry to her make-believe husband.

He escorted her into his house by way of the garage. They entered through the laundry room, with its high-efficiency washer and dryer, bright white counters and stainless steel sink.

Going from one spacious room to the next, he gave her a tour of the first floor, familiarizing her with the custom-built layout.

“Everything about your home is magnificent,” she said.

“Thanks.” He’d chosen furnishings that reflected his eclectic taste, mixing the old with the new, traditional with modern. “Let me get the pizza ordered, then I’ll show you the rest of it.” He called in the food and notified the guard at the gate, too.

While they waited for the delivery, he took her upstairs to where the bedrooms were.

They entered a room with an impressive view of the backyard. “When you move in, you can use this suite. It’s the one my lovers use when they stay over. There’s an adjoining bathroom with a shower and a claw-foot tub. Women seem to like that.”

“It’s all very elegant.” She studied a gold-leafed dresser, tracing her hand along the wood. She turned and said, “But I hope you don’t mind me asking, why do you have a separate suite for your lovers?”

He motioned to a set of ornate wooden doors. “This suite connects to mine, so when I have a woman over, we can open those doors and share both spaces. But we can close them when we want privacy, too. In the old days, ladies had their own boudoirs, and I wanted to create that effect here, too. I think it’s sexy, waiting on the other side for my lovers to be ready for me.” He walked over to the canopy bed that would become hers. “Sometimes they come to my suite, and sometimes they invite me to sleep in this one with them.”

She glanced at the pale beige material that draped the top and sides of the bed, then took a breath-stealing moment to look at him. He returned her gaze, steeped in his odd fascination with her. By now, she was standing in front of a Queen Anne–style vanity table, with her back to the beveled mirror. The wood was a deep, dark cherry, and the seat was upholstered in a light floral print.

Rand imagined her using the vanity on their wedding day. “Do you want to get married here?”

She widened her eyes. “In this suite?”

“No. In the house itself.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” She seemed embarrassed by her blunder. “That was silly of me.”

“That’s okay.” He liked how unpretentious she was, how she didn’t always behave accordingly. “Since we need to do this quickly, I think we should have a small, private civil ceremony. But it can still be traditional, if that’s your preference.”

“Something customary would be nice. I wish my family could be here, but they’d never be able to leave the farm on such short notice. Of course, they’ll probably want us to have a second ceremony in Kenmare, in the church where I was baptized.” She spoke softly, shakily, her voice hitching. “The second one would be called a convalidation, where our vows would be blessed and recognized by the church. But our marriage isn’t going to last long enough for that. I would never do it, anyway. It be would be too sacred for a deception like ours.”

“I know what a convalidation is. But to be honest, I haven’t been to church in a really long time.” It reminded him too much of his mother’s funeral and how painful it had been to lose her. But he didn’t want to talk about that. “I totally agree with you that a second ceremony is never going to happen. We just need to get through the first one.”

“Yes, but don’t be surprised if Da mentions us getting remarried in Ireland when you video chat with him.”

“How about if I just go along with whatever he says for now?” Rand didn’t want to upset her father. He’d been through enough turmoil with his own dad.

She remained with her back to the mirror. “That’ll work. Just pretend you’re on board with all of his ideas.”

“How do you think your mother is going to react?”

“She cries easily, and me marrying my dream man is going to make her weepy.”

“Right. The dream man thing.” Never in a million years did he expect to be cast in that role. But here he was, trying to wear that mantle. “So I should prepare for tears when I meet her on Skype?”

“Most definitely. She’s going to cry on the phone to me, too, when I first tell her about you. She’s also going to offer to alter her wedding dress and send it to me. She always wanted me to get married in the same dress she wore when she married Da, and since she’s a seamstress, she’ll be able to do it right quick.”

Rand winced. He didn’t know anything about the process of handing down a dress, but it was obvious how important all this was going to be to her parents. “If you want, I can arrange to have your family attend the ceremony on Skype. We might as well make the most of that medium. Not just for me to meet them and ask for your hand in marriage, but for them to watch you become a bride.”

“That would be wonderful. They would love that.” She rewarded him with a wobbly smile. “Thank you for suggesting it.”

“No problem.” As he met her gaze, a stream of silence ensued. A soft, sweet, quiet heat, he thought, with his heady vibes mingling with hers. “We better go back downstairs for now. The food should be here soon. We can figure out the rest of the details while we eat.”

She left her post at the vanity. “Yes, we should go.”

When he moved away from the bed and turned to leave, she quickly followed. She even shut the door behind her a little too soundly, as if she was eager to close off the room.

And everything that went with it.