Emergency Engagement (Love Emergency 1)

“How do I look?”

“Late.”

Shock caused her steps to falter, and the heel of her black pump snagged in the Berber rug. Two strong arms and a rock-solid chest kept her from face-planting. “W-what do you mean, I look late?”

He stroked a hand down the hair she’d tamed into long, smooth waves to complement the dress. Clear brown eyes homed in on her mouth. “You look like you’re going to be about ten minutes late to the party.” Then he lowered his head and kissed every bit of gloss off her lips. “Make it fifteen,” he corrected when he raised his head.

Relief fizzled through her, along with a hard, fast bolt of lust, but she slapped a hand to the center of his chest until he stopped closing in, and then she got to work on his tie. “Your parents are upstairs, no doubt ready to go. What are the chances they’ll wait patiently for ten to fifteen minutes?”

His hold on her loosened. “Good point. Pencil me in for later.”

She adjusted the knot in his tie to the right position, and then wiped the hints of her Scarlet Santa Gloss from his lips. He used the opportunity to take a quick, hard bite from the pad of her thumb. The move surprised a laugh out of her, along with another ridiculously powerful surge of need.

“Ow.” She rubbed the red skin. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

“Gives you something to think about, doesn’t it?”

She had plenty to think about, and spent the short drive to the Oglethorpe Inn sitting next to Cheryl in the back seat of the Yukon, only half listening to her discuss the plan for a shared Christmas Day celebration between the Smith and Montgomery families.

When they arrived, Beau ushered her into the Oglethorpe, and she wondered if tonight represented the unwitting start of a family tradition. Would their little one grow up with fond memories of holidays spent in Magnolia Grove, surrounded by the grandparents, Aunt Sinclair…Mommy and Daddy?

Her mom found them just outside the banquet room and swept her into a quick hug. “There you are. I like that dress, though not quite as much as the last one I saw you in.”

She shot a glance at Beau. To her, the dress was still a sore point.

“Can’t wait to see it,” he said, and loosened his tie with a restless tug. “Is that Bill at the bar?”

Her mom turned and squinted at the bar set up across the room. “Yes. I took one for the team and asked him to fetch me a glass of wine after Mrs. Pinkerton corned us to get the latest gossip on the wedding.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“White wine?” Beau asked.

Without thinking, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Nothing for me.”

He frowned and skimmed his fingertips down her cheek. “Still not feeling well?”

His show of concern warmed her heart, but then again, the man was a paramedic. “I’m fine. I just don’t want to tempt fate.”

The frown didn’t entirely disappear, but he nodded. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Savannah watched him thread his way through the clusters of people and tables and wondered when she’d become such a resourceful liar. A month ago, the only secret she’d harbored was Mitch’s name. Now she carried the weight of too many secrets, born of one massive lie. She wasn’t engaged. She had no need for a $3,000 wedding dress, and she didn’t feel fine.

“Sinclair wants to speak to you.” Her mother’s voice intruded on her guilty thoughts.

Yeah. I’ll bet she does. “Where is she?”

Two perfectly groomed blonde brows drew together as her mom scanned the crowd. “Try the cloakroom. She headed over there a few minutes ago. I’m guessing she ran into someone she knows. Otherwise, I can’t fathom what takes so long about hanging three coats. Oh, there’s Doreen Hightower. Doooreeen…”

Savannah edged away and then headed in the direction of the coat closet—a rack-lined room situated between the men’s and ladies’ lounges. As she stepped through the door, Sinclair appeared, snagged Savannah’s wrist, and tugged her into the ladies’ room.

“I’ve been texting you for hours. What the actual fuck, Savannah?”

“Why were you lurking in the coat closet?”

Sinclair strode to the farthest end of the counter and tossed her purse. “I ducked in there to avoid Mrs. Pinkerton. I wa

sn’t in the mood to be pumped for information.”

“She’s harmless.”