One Night Stand Bride

“The hell you say.” He couldn’t take her on a date in that outfit. His will would slide into the toilet in about a microsecond. Surely that would be the easiest dress in the history of time to get his hands under, even if they were someplace normally reserved for hands off, like a high-backed booth in the corner of a dimly lit restaurant.

His will made a nice whooshing sound as it flushed away and all his good intentions crumbled into dust. He might have whimpered.

Do not step over the threshold. Do not. No stepping.

“Let me make this perfectly clear to you,” he ground out. “If you wear that dress—and I use that term very loosely—I cannot be responsible for what carnal activities may befall you in the course of this evening.”

“Please.” She waved that off. “You made a promise to keep your hands off me and you will, I have no doubt. What you’re really saying is that you’d be embarrassed to be seen with me in this, right? So kiss off. I’m wearing it.”

Oh, so it was going to be one of those nights. Not only would he have to contend with the idea that she had absolute faith in him, but she’d also assigned some kind of nefarious intent to his comments.

Her attitude needed to go and fast. “I wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with you naked in a photograph. Not embarrassed now. Stop projecting your own crap all over me and get your purse. If you want to wear something that’s one stiff breeze away from being illegal, be my guest.”

“What’s with you?” she called over her shoulder as she did exactly as he’d commanded without seeming to realize it. “You asked me on this date. If you’re going to be nasty to me the whole time, then I’d be happy to slam the door in your face and order takeout.”

That wasn’t happening. He’d been looking forward to this date all day. “Why is it so hard to believe my objection to that dress starts and ends with how spectacular you look in it? You tell me what’s with you and I’ll tell you what’s with me.”

She smirked and flounced past him to the building’s elevator. “You never had a problem with what I wore in Vegas. What’s changed now? Only that we’re engaged and you want me to look like a proper Harris bride.”

Whatever that meant.

“Stop putting words in my mouth.” The elevator door closed around them and they were alone in a space that got a whole lot smaller the more of her scent he breathed in. “In Vegas, I didn’t care what you wore because I was taking it off you at some point. That’s not the situation tonight and if you’re really confused about the state of my extreme sexual frustration, the evidence is ready and available for your hands-on examination.”

Her gaze flicked to his crotch, which put a little more heat into his already painful erection. Her sweet fingers on it would be legendary indeed but she didn’t take him up on the invitation. Shame.

“I—You know what? Never mind.” Her lush pink lips clamped together and she looked away.

Not so fast. His beleaguered senses were still working well enough to alert him that there was more here that he didn’t know. “Spit it out, sweetheart. Or I’ll be forced to kiss it out of you.”

“What?” She slid him a sideways glance. “There’s no stipulation in the rules that says you’re allowed to kiss me to get information.”

He shrugged. “How come you get to make all the rules? If you’re not going to be honest with me, I have to make up my own rules.”

Her sigh worked its way through his gut and he was a half second away from sweeping her into his arms to show her he always put his money where his mouth was. But then she did as he suggested.

“I am projecting,” she admitted.

It was as much of a shock now as it had been in the kitchen during their party—he’d figured out how to make progress with Roz. She was such a mystery, one he’d like to spend many long hours solving. Usually he would do that in bed. But that was off-limits here, so he’d been forced to be more creative. Looked like it was working. “Don’t do that. Tell me what’s up and then we’ll go paint the town.”

“Maybe you want a wife more like your mom. Smart and accomplished.” She shrugged, her face blank. “That’s not who I am. I have to be me, even if I don’t look like I’m supposed to be here.”

“What does that even mean? Of course you’re supposed to be here. What, are you worried how you stack up?” The long, intense silence answered his flippant question in spades. “Are you kidding me? That’s really something that even crossed your mind?”

Ridiculous. But apparently it wasn’t to her. She rolled her shoulders back and her spine went stiff.

“Can we just forget about it?”

That wasn’t happening any more than not taking Roz on this date. But first they obviously needed to get a few things straight. The elevator reached the ground floor and he waited until she reached his car.

Instead of opening the door for her, he snagged her by the waist and turned her into his arms, trapping her against the car. Instantly, everything but Roz drained from his mind as her body aligned with his so neatly that he could feel the heat of her core against his leg.

That was some dress.

“I already told you what you wanted to know, Hendrix.” She glanced up at him through her lashes and the look was so sexy it put at least an inch on his already impossibly hard erection. “What are you going to do now, kiss me anyway?”

“No need.” His hips fit so well into the hollow of her stomach that he swayed into her a little deeper. “This is strictly Exhibit A. B and C wil

l have to wait.”