Misadventures of a Backup Bride

Technically, I can’t afford to be worried about Ella’s feelings. I can spare even less thought about my own.

“Well, you’re devastatingly handsome. That’s a bonus,” she assures with a wry grin. “You’re kind but definitely not a pushover. You’re strong without being overpowering. You’re supportive and funny. And I like that you have goals and want to make a difference. I’m the same, by the way. We…click. What was it about me for you? In case people ask…”

“Of course. Just in case.” I hold my smile in. I get the vibe that she wants to know what I like about her, too. That has to be a good sign. “You’re beautiful. And not in that plastic, spray-tanned, need-a-lot-of-makeup way. My first thought when we met was how much I wanted to kiss those lips. Incidentally, that’s true.” I stop the car in a parking spot and turn to find her flashing me a flirty smile. “You’re beside me unfailingly but you’re not clingy. You’re assertive without being bitchy. You’re generous and sweet and patient. And yeah, I like that we’re both passionate about our jobs and our lives. Like you said, we click.”

Ella must like my answer because she flashes me a pretty pair of dimples.

God, she really might be the prettiest woman I’ve ever real or fake dated, not simply in outward beauty. She’s completely authentic.

“Well, since we’re so freaking happy, we should head inside and celebrate.”

After her quip, I exit the car and jog around to open her door. She swivels in her seat to face me. Her legs emerge first, smooth and bare and shapely. I swallow as I hold out my hand to help her up. When she lays her fingers over mine, there’s a jolt again. My heart starts to chug. What is it about this woman that’s doing it so thoroughly for me?

I’m still trying to answer that question as we make our way inside the steakhouse. I come here often, and they know me, so we bypass the others waiting and are seated in under five minutes.

“Hello. I am Shen. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” He’s familiar and takes our drink orders. I notice he’s trying hard not to look at Ella, but her blouse has shifted to reveal a hint of cleavage so it’s tough not to stare.

As she orders water with extra lemon and inquires about the chef cooking her food without butter or oil, I study her. She really is classic. The curves of her face are softly female. Her sloe- eyed stare is so emotive. For instance, she’s merely talking to this man about her food, and yet I see her concern, a bit of discomfort, and more than a hint of determination. I love that she’s an open book to those who take the time to read her.

I wonder what her expression would tell me if I could hold her under my body and gaze into her eyes while I sink deep inside her?

“And for you, sir?”

“Water, as well. And…” I scan the wine list, then order a nice bottle of Pinot Noir. “Do you like that, Ella?”

“I do.”

Her tone is both polite and dismissive. She thinks she won’t be drinking any.

Shen nods and makes to leave.

“You can take my wineglass,” she tells him.

When he reaches for the stem, I shake my head. “Leave it.”

I’m polite, but I make sure he can’t fail to hear the command in my voice. Immediately, Shen straightens and turns away, evaporating into the dark recesses of the restaurant again.

Ella stiffens. “You were lying earlier. You expect to get your way. You’re used to it.”

“Very,” I confirm.

“I’m not a doormat.”

“Not at all. It’s one of the things I like about you,” I assure her.

She meets my gaze and frowns. “I don’t understand you, Carson.”

Yeah, I don’t understand me that much right now, either. “Well, that’s what the next few days are for. Still game?”

The air conditioning kicks on. The artificial breeze tugs at a few strands of her hair, sending a lock to skate across her mouth. Reflexively, I reach over and push the skeins aside. And since I’m there, I can’t help but caress Ella’s bottom lip. Fuck, I want to kiss her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch some of Gregory Shaw’s country club and corporate buddies entering the room through an arch on the far side. No one waves in my direction, though. They’ve already spotted me touching another woman. It won’t take long for this news to get back to their pal.

“Yeah.” Her voice is breathy. “I have a feeling you’ll keep this interesting.”

Chapter Three

ELLA

“Our audience has arrived,” Carson says as he cuts his eyes across the restaurant to a group of suits walking in, dripping in custom tailoring and privilege.

I smile a bit wider and nuzzle into his broad palm that’s still cupping my cheek. I try not to think about the fact that his hand on me is igniting my libido. “Is this what you had in mind?”

My adoring gaze is only somewhat feigned. And when his thumb brushes my mouth again, the shiver isn’t totally fake. This man is freaking H-O-T. How are we going to live like a loving couple under the same roof for more than two weeks without giving in to the blistering chemistry between us?

Does it matter if you do?

“Definitely. It would be better if I could kiss you right now,” he growls as if he’s impatient.

His voice does something to my self-control that isn’t good. Too bad I can’t slide onto the bench on his side of the booth and lay a lip lock on him without drawing too much attention in this posh place.

“How about when we finish our meal?” he suggests.

The way he’s looking at me—like he’s dying to take my clothes off and make me scream—has everything between my legs throbbing. If his desire is all an act, he’s the one who ought to be auditioning to become a star. I’m thoroughly convinced he wants me. That’s dangerous.

“They should still be here by then, so I’m counting on it,” I murmur in a sultry voice.

Yes, I’m flirting back. Every time I look at him, my stomach tightens and flutters like I’m a teenager in the throes of my first crush. I manage to smile somehow, but I’m all too aware that my gaze is inviting him to do far more. We’re basically eye fucking in public. And it’s the most exciting thing I’ve done with a man in years.

The waiter approaches slowly. Shen knows he’s interrupting something, but he has drinks in hand. A woman in a pressed white shirt and black pants is right behind him, carrying our bottle of wine.

“Here you are.” The waiter sets water in front of us, then grabs the bottle from the woman. Deftly, he opens it and pours a swallow for Carson.

He swirls it in his glass, sniffs the aroma, then tosses the liquid back. I watch him swallow. He’s got massive shoulders and a wide neck, and the bob of his Adam’s apple is somehow an incredible turn-on. I squirm in my seat as he nods the waiter’s way.

I’m barely aware of the quiet man pouring us each a glass. The vino I swore I wasn’t going to drink because it has too many calories suddenly becomes my lifeline. I really have no idea how I’m going to make it through this meal without crawling across the table to taste his mouth if I don’t have something to take the edge off.

I gulp down three big swallows in desperation.

Carson watches me with a sideways smile that’s sexier than hell.

“Are you ready to order, Mr. Frost?” The waiter looks at Carson expectantly.

“We are.”