One Night Stand Bride

“You entering a drag queen revue that I don’t know about?” she asked from her perch on the lounger near the window of their bedroom. It was an enormous room in an even more enormous house that felt genuinely empty when her husband wasn’t in it. Probably because it was his, not hers.

Or at least that was the excuse she kept telling herself so she didn’t have to think about what it meant that she sometimes missed him. That she thought about him all day long and only some of it was sexual.

“Maybe.” He waggled his brows. “Let’s see if it fits.”

He pulled the dress from a layer of tissue paper and held it up to his chest as she giggled over his antics. But then the dress fully unfurled, revealing what he’d picked out. Oh, God, it was gorgeous. Red, with a gold clasp at the waist that gathered the material close.

“I think it would fit me better than you,” she said wryly. “Is this your subtle way of getting me excited about the idea of hanging out with North Carolina’s movers and shakers?”

“Depends.” He shot her an adorable smile that made her pulse beat a little strangely as the dress became the second-most-beautiful thing in the room. “Did it work?”

Oh, it worked all right, but not even close to the way he meant.

“Only if it goes with the gold shoes I have in my closet.” She held out a hand for the gown because the whole thing felt inevitable. “I’ll try it on. But I’m only wearing it because you picked it out.”

The silk slid through her hands like water as she laid it on the couch, then stood to wiggle out of her pants and shirt. The dress was strapless on one side and came up into an elegant over-the-shoulder style on the other. It settled against her curves like it had been made for her and fell to the ground in a waterfall of red. A high slit revealed enough leg to raise some eyebrows, which she sincerely hoped Hendrix would use as a convenient way to get his hands on her during dinner.

“You look amazing,” he said quietly and when she glanced at him, pride glinted from his eyes.

“You have good taste,” she shot back, mystified why the compliment pleased her so much. The gift as a whole pleased her in ways she’d never have expected. No man had ever bought her clothes before. She’d never had a need for one to, nor would she have accepted such a gift from anyone else.

Sure, there was an agenda buried in the middle of his gesture. He needed her by his side at his mother’s thing and now she couldn’t use I have nothing to wear as an excuse to weasel out of it. But she didn’t care. The dress fit like a dream, clearly indicating her husband paid attention to details, and the way he was looking at her made her feel desired more sharply than anything he’d done in their entire history. That was saying something.

She half expected him to reach for her, but he started chattering about something that had happened at work earlier as he stripped out of his suit, then went to take a shower. Too bad. She’d be happy to show up

late but he wasn’t on board with that.

The limo ride was uneventful and she started to get antsy. The wedding hadn’t been too bad in terms of dirty looks and noses in the air. But she’d been the bride and it was practically a requirement that people treat her nicely on her wedding day. This fundraiser was a whole different ball game and she didn’t often do this kind of society thing. For a reason.

Only for Helene would she brave it. And because Hendrix had done something so unexpected as buy her a dress.

“Nervous?” Hendrix murmured as they exited the limo. “I’ll hold your hand.”

“You’re supposed to,” she reminded him blithely. “Because we’re married and making sure people are fully aware of that fact.”

When he clasped her fingers in his, though, it didn’t feel utilitarian. Especially when he glanced down at her and smiled like they shared a secret. “I’m also doing it because I want to.”

That warmed her enormously. For about two minutes. Because that’s when she saw her father. Whom she had not realized would be in attendance. Of course he’d wrangled an invitation to the premiere Helene Harris for Governor event of the season. Maybe Helene had even invited him of her own free will.

Roz’s chest turned to ice.

“I wonder if there’s a closet in this place,” she said into Hendrix’s ear with a little nuzzle. If she could entice him into a back hall, they could spend an hour there before anyone even noticed they’d arrived. Then there wouldn’t be a big to-do about them disappearing, and she could get good and relaxed before braving the hypercritical looks and comments.

Hendrix smiled at a few people and snaked an arm around Roz, pulling her close. But instead of copping a feel, like she’d have laid odds on, he held her waist in a perfectly respectable fashion. “Maybe we’ll look later.”

“Maybe we should look now.” She slid her own arm around his waist in kind, but let her hand drift south with a caress designed to remind him they were at their best when they were burning up with need for each other. Though why she had to be the aggressor in this situation, she wasn’t quite sure.

Instead of shooting her a salacious grin that communicated all the naughty thoughts in his mind, he pulled her into a shadowy alcove away from the crush. Oh, this had possibilities. The area wasn’t enclosed, but could be considered private. Emboldened, she slipped the button free on his tux jacket, gauging exactly how much cover it might provide if he had a mind to get handsy.

That got her a smile, but without much carnal heat laced through it. No worries. She could get him hot and bothered pretty quickly and let her fingers do some walking. But he just laced his fingers with hers and pulled them free of his body.

“Roz, come on.”

That didn’t sound like the precursor to a hot round of mutual orgasmic delight. “I’m trying to, but you’re not helping any.”

“Why do we always have to have sex in public?”

Agape, she stared at him. “I must not be doing it right if you have to ask that question.”