She blew out a breath, wiped her damp palms on the skirt of her little black dress, and stepped out as well, almost running into him as he came around to open her door. Whoops. Her etiquette sucked. She took a tiny step back, and smoothed her dress. “Are you sure I look okay?”
Granted, she’d asked the question at least ten times since he’d arrived on her doorstep, and apparently he was tired of replying, because he took her by the waist, backed her up against the car, and leaned his lower body into hers. The hard jut of his erection branded her hip. “I sense you’re nervous, Jailbait. Does this help alleviate your worries?”
In a strange way, it did. The primitive demonstration stabilized some unsteady place inside her, but the immediate rush of her body’s equally primitive response promised an uncomfortable evening if she didn’t get herself under control. She gave him an utterly ineffective shove. “Put that away, unless you’re prepared to skip the party and use it.”
“Uh-uh. You don’t earn it until after the party. Stay by my side for the next two hours. Talk weddings with my sister, smile and nod while my mother tells you how to live your life. Laugh at my dad’s jokes.” He lowered his head and nipped her earlobe. “But if at any time during the evening your nerves start to get the better of you, just give me a signal. I’ll find a private spot”—he pressed his cock against her again—“and alleviate your worries a little more.”
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped back, took her hand, and led her into the house. She walked into the party on shaky legs, but now it had nothing to do with nerves.
Kate spied them first, and made her way over, looking sleek in an emerald green dress. As she closed in, she snagged a brawny guy with a shaved head, a ginger beard, and a few hundred dollars worth of silver piercing his ears. All of it completely at odds with his tailored suit. Kate hugged Booker, and then, while he and Sons of Anarchy shook hands, Kate hugged her as well.
Surprise froze her for a moment, but Kate didn’t seem to notice. She drew away and gestured to the burly guy. “I’m so happy to see you again. Laurie, meet my fiancé, Aaron.”
Okay, that brought more surprise. Aaron looked nothing like she expected. His off-center grin said he knew it. “Nice to officially meet you. I crashed your New Year’s Eve party, briefly, but this gent neglected to make introductions.”
“I had other priorities on New Year’s Eve,” Booker replied, sounding not at all sorry.
“I know. I’ve got the Amex bill to prove it.”
“You can’t put a price on happiness.”
“You can put a price on a round of drinks for a pub full of people. It’s a thousand dollars, plus tip. Speaking of introductions…” His green eyes swung back to her. “I heard you met Rebecca.”
“Aaron!” Kate elbowed him in the rib.
“What?” He rubbed his side. “That was the most blinding meet-the-mum story I ever heard.”
Was it possible for her head to spontaneously combust? She glared at Booker.
“I didn’t say a word.”
“Mom told us,” Kate explained, and then lost her battle with a giggle. “And yes, for the record, you definitely win for most epic meet-the-mom story. If it’s any consolation, she said you had good manners, and admirable composure. Also, she was happy to see her Christmas gift hadn’t ended up in the back of the closet.”
Just as she wished for the polished tile to part and swallow her up, a familiar voice called from across the room.
“Booker!”
Laurie looked over to see Rebecca winding her way through the large room. A tall, dark-suited man with Booker’s straight nose and strong jawline followed. His father.
“What a surprise. So nice of you to fit us into your schedule,” his mother said as she accepted a hug and kiss on the cheek from her son.
“I’m not sure why you’re surprised, Mom. I told you I’d be here,” he replied, and leaned forward to hug his father.
“Yes, but one never knows, with that job of yours.”
Booker rolled his eyes, and then put his hand at Laurie’s back. “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet—”
Rebecca turned to her and recognition flickered across her face. “Laura. We met yesterday.”
“Lauralie,” Booker corrected.
“Laurie,” she interjected. “Please call me Laurie.”
Mr. Booker extended a hand. “Call me Richard. Sounds like you already know Rebecca.”
“Yes.” She shook his hand and nodded to Booker’s mom. “Nice to see you again.”
“Likewise. I’m delighted Booker brought you tonight. We didn’t get much of a chance to talk yesterday, since you were a bit…tied up.”