All Night Long (Man of the Month 9)

"Oh." She licked her lips, trying to stave off tears. "How are you going to do that?"

"Not sure, but I know I'll never stop trying."

"I like the sound of that."

"And there's one other thing," he said, then cupped her chin. "I love you, Selma Herrington."

Happiness flooded through her. "I love you, too," she said, then grinned as she bit her lower lip.

"What?"

She reached for the door to Tyree's office, then pushed it open. "I'm feeling a bit scandalous. You?"

His chuckle filled the hall. "Always," he said, then tugged her inside the room and shut the door.

This time, she noticed, he locked it.

Epilogue

Matthew was filling his plate with sliced brisket and potato salad when Hannah stepped up beside him, her mere proximity sending awareness coursing through him. She pressed her palm against his back, then leaned close, her manner so casual it almost seemed as if they really were dating.

She was good at deception, that was for sure. Matthew, however, was not. About the only thing he was managing to pull off successfully was an air of being head-over-heels for the woman who was his pretend fiancee. But since Hannah Donovan had mesmerized him from the first moment he'd met her, that really didn't strain his meager acting skills.

"Hey, stud," she said. "If you get the food, I'll get the wine. I grabbed us a table near the band. And after the bride and groom do the first dance, we can go out on the floor, too. Less talking to people about our engagement if we're lost in each other's arms, right?"

He swallowed, imagining the feel of her against him during a slow dance. "Sounds good. I'll meet you at the table in a--"

"Oh, hell. Red alert." The harsh, almost scared, tone of her voice cut through him, making him want to hold her close and soothe her. "It's my dad."

His stomach curdled, his protective instincts now warring with a strong urge to just get the hell out of there.

But he couldn't. The man was the entire reason he and Hannah were at this wedding together. Why they were pretending to be engaged. Why she'd been looking at him all gooey-eyed for most of the evening, and he'd been diligently reminding himself that it was fake. All fake.

"Let's head over and talk to one of your friends," Matthew suggested.

"Too late. He's heading toward us. Dammit, I don't want to deal with him right now."

"You and me both." He hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Donovan yet, but he'd heard enough to already be wildly intimidated by the successful lawyer. Matthew knew his strengths, and he also knew that if Ernest Donovan wanted to discuss legal ideas, current events, or even great literature, Matthew was going to come across sounding like a goddamn idiot. Shit.

Why the hell had he said he'd do this? He didn't think fast on his feet. Words always escaped him.

"Quick," Hannah said. "If we're already talking about something, he won't ask us about the engagement. Um, the school voucher system everyone keeps talking about. I think the Legislature's going to look at it again for Texas this year. What do you think about that?"

Terror ripped through him. He didn't have a clue about vouchers, and since he had no kids, he didn't much care at the moment, either. Anything he said would reveal to Hannah that he was a clueless fool, and that was one thing he didn't want to be.

"Or you pick a topic," she said urgently. "Just talk. He's almost here."

But there was no topic. There was nothing for him to do.

Nothing except one thing.

He left the brisket on the table, pulled her roughly against him, and kissed her.

For a moment, she was stiff with shock. Then she melted against him, her mouth opening under his.

He sighed, lost in the feel of her. Because this felt right. Not overwhelming like the rest of it. This--the woman, the kiss, the pressure of their bodies--this was the way it should be.

And for one brief, delicious moment, Matthew knew what heaven felt like.