Mr. Mayfair (Mister) - Page 52

As the happy couple walked up the riverbank to join us, people began to clap. Beside me, Beck chuckled. “I was hoping one of them would go in.”

I bit down on my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing. Today had kind of summed Beck up—moving the blanket and calling out this spectacle, forcing me to acknowledge what was really happening.

He dared to do what I didn’t, say what I couldn’t, made me see things the way they were rather than how I wanted them to be. Whether our kisses had been real or fake, Beck was changing the way I saw the world and the way I saw myself.

I just hoped I wasn’t as wrong about him as I had been about Matt and Karen.

Twenty-One

Beck

Stella’s eyes dipped to my bowtie, then up to my jawline and finally up to meet my gaze. “You look cute.”

The sun cast a golden, hazy light across the hotel room, making her look even more beautiful than usual, lighting up her face, highlighting the beauty spot on her cheek, emphasizing the deep v of her cupid’s bow. The short skirt didn’t hurt—she had killer legs.

“Cute?” I asked. “I’m not sure cute is a compliment.”

“Maybe I wasn’t giving you one,” she replied.

This girl never let me get away with anything, and I couldn’t remember when I’d ever had quite so much fun. No woman had ever given me a hard time like Stella did—certainly none of my girlfriends had. I ended up dating women who were easy. Not in the sexual sense, but in the sense that they fit into my life and didn’t require me to work at anything, which left me to put all my energy into my business.

It suited me. Perhaps Stella would be easy as a real girlfriend but as a fake girlfriend she was challenging and funny and had told me I was irritating on more than one occasion.

“You look a lot better than cute,” I replied.

She spun around, black and white sequins clinging to every curve. “You think it’s thirties enough? Everyone is bound to have gone to costume shops and had stuff made. I bought this for one of Matt’s work dos when we were up in Manchester.”

“It’s a sexy take on the thirties. And why would you want to be like all these people anyway?”

She smiled. “They’re not so bad, you know. Anyway, I don’t have anything else, so it will have to do.”

“It will more than do. I’ll struggle to keep my hands to myself all evening.” We hadn’t repeated our kisses from the day before, but looking at her now, kissing her was all I could think about.

“I have a feather boa,” she said, ignoring me. “But I think it looks tacky. What do you think?”

She hung the black feathers around her shoulders. Normally, when a girlfriend asked me my opinion on her outfit, I’d say whatever was going to get us out the door fastest, but with Stella, I studied her. I wanted her to look as good as she could, feel the most confident she ever had. I wanted her to feel like she had all the power when she was with these people. Because she was better than all of them. “I think without. The dress is enough on its own.”

“You’re right,” she said, discarding the boa on the bed. “It’s kind of distracting. And I look like a stripper.”

“If it’s going to get you in character, then maybe I’ll change my mind.”

She picked up her evening bag and whacked me with it. “Let’s go.” She led the way out of the hotel room.

“So, it’s just cocktails tonight?” I asked as we made our way down the corridor. “No food?”

“I have no idea. I can’t imagine Karen hasn’t thought of that. So perhaps substantial canapes?”

“I might be ordering room service when we get back,” I mumbled. “There’s Henry,” I said, nodding toward the party making their way toward us from the other end of the corridor. “He’s rarely alone. It’s part of the reason it’s so difficult to speak to him.”

“This is perfect. I’ve not seen him yet. Come on,” she said, picking up speed so we could run into him.

“Henry,” Stella said. “How wonderful to see you.” Her grin lit up her face and a pang of jealousy bloomed in my gut. Had she ever smiled so widely at me?

“Stella, darling. How are you? You’re looking wonderful.” Henry was all charm and warm smiles.

“I’m wonderful, thank you. Can I introduce you to Beck Wilde?”

She placed her hand lovingly on my arm, tucking her body into mine as if she belonged to me. My breath caught in my throat, not because it was uncomfortable but because the idea of her belonging to me felt . . . right.

Tags: Louise Bay Romance
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