Desired (Two Marks 2)

Prologue

RACHEL

Chester, my so-called boyfriend, pulled up in front of my parents’ Palo Alto mansion and parked his convertible BMW in the circle drive. From the window, I couldn’t miss the pale blue shirt, or the way his dark hair was perfect. That meant he had more product in it than I ever used in mine so it wasn’t wind tousled. He was perfect at all times. Perfect.

Ugh. I’d been dodging him for three days. He’s perfect for you, darling. Think of it, you’ll be a senator’s wife someday! It’ll be perfect when you’re married to a man with such aspirations. Your children will be perfect.

Perfect. Perfect. PERFECT. My parents didn’t understand that I didn’t want perfect. That I wanted to choose my own man, one with flaws. Was it too much to ask to own my own life? To do my own thing? Make my own choices? Fail, even?

Failing didn’t happen in my family. It was considered impossible in the political spotlight my family lived in.

I’d graduated from Stanford, like my father and grandfather before me. I was smart, and didn’t need coddling. Or being told what to do. Like marriage. To Chester. The wedding I hadn’t planned. The one that was being thrust upon me by Chester and my parents.

I just needed a minute to breathe and figure out what I really wanted to do instead of becoming Mrs. Chester Barnes IV. The perfect wife.

I’d made it crystal clear to them, I didn’t want to get married. I didn’t want Chester. I’d been hinting for years at a life that didn’t involve my parents’ closest friends’ son. To become arm candy as Chester worked his way up in my father’s law firm and into politics. He needed me and my family’s clout to win.

Since I was going to become a senator’s wife, I wanted more of a life than vote stumping, planning charity events, and wearing fashionable dresses. Glancing down at myself, I took in the blue dress, the navy pumps. Pearls. God, my mother must have told Chester what I was going to wear so we matched.

Matched!

My heart galloped in my chest with anxiety and panic. No matter what I said, my life was being planned for me. Everyone was ready for me to step into the mold they’d created for me. To continue the family legacy. It wasn’t as if they ever considered me to be the senator.

Chester let himself in the house without knocking since my parents already thought of him as their son-in-law. “Rach? Babe?” he called. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

I sighed and left my childhood bedroom before he came up and invaded my space any more. The only good thing was that my parents insisted we wait until marriage before living together. I’d added on that I was saving myself for marriage. I remembered that night, when I’d told Chester of that. It made me smile even now.

For once, he hadn’t gotten his way. It wasn’t that he was overly gentlemanly, but because he didn’t want to blow any chances with my father. The future lawmaker was willing to take some cold showers.

But for not much longer.

“Late for what?” I asked. “I thought you were taking me to dinner.”

“I am. I made reservations.” He had already started up the stairs as I sailed down them, pausing to receive a perfunctory kiss. I felt nothing from it. Where was the heat? The pulsing between my legs I read about in my romance novels? Why was the perfect hero seemingly too perfect?

“Well, I don’t think they’ll give our table away if we’re two minutes late,” I said.

He followed me back down the steps and across the foyer. “Are you ready? You look ready.”

My stomach twisted. I really needed to break things off with him. To just end it. Say I didn’t want him. That we weren’t a ‘thing.’ That he should find someone else who’d be happy to wear matching outfits and be eager for early tee times. Nothing about us worked for me, and I was getting tired of pretending it did.

Tonight. I’d do it at dinner tonight, where we were in public and he couldn’t make a scene.

“Sure. I’m ready.” I needed to get this over with.

I struggled to think of something to say as we cut through the ritzy neighborhood, but it didn’t matter, because Chester launched into a ten-minute long boast about his latest racquetball sessions, only taking a breath when he pulled in front of the valet at the country club.

I looked around. “Wait. We’re having dinner here?” I’d grown up coming to this place. It wasn’t romantic or private. Not a place I wanted to go on a date.

“Uh, yes.” He came around and joined me by the entrance. “I figured for old time’s sake. We practically grew up here together, right?”