Omens (Cainsville 1)

The woman on my left patted my arm. "I bet you had a secret crush on him."

"Er, no," James said. "She was seventeen before she remembered my name."

"Only because you look like your cousin," I said.

"Who's a half foot shorter than me and fifty pounds heavier." James turned to the others. "Let's just say Liv's complete lack of interest kept my ego in check."

"You were older," I said. Then hurried to add, "Out of my league."

"Nice save, darling. Truth is, by the time she was old enough to notice me, I'd gone from a gawky teenager to a boring businessman. Liv prefers fighter pilots."

I sputtered a laugh. "He was a computer tech in the air force."

"Close enough. The point is, she was not easily wooed. I've launched hostile takeovers that were easier."

James spoke after dinner, making an impassioned plea for donations. I would say it was a lovely speech, but that would be arrogant, considering I wrote it. I could point out that a master's degree in Victorian literature hardly qualifies me to write speeches about contemporary disasters, but I never did. If James was going to be my husband, I was going to be more than a bauble on his arm.

I hadn't planned to marry so young. I'm not sure if I planned to marry at all. My parents had a great relationship but, well, it lacked what is to me an essential component of a partnership. Namely the partnership. Dad ran the business, Mum did her charity work. Never the twain shall meet. James has let me into the business side of his life from the start, and I appreciate that. So if he asks me to write him a speech, I do.

I will say, then, only that the speech was successful. Checkbooks opened. As they did, James made his way through the crowd, with me at his side. Then, so deftly that even I hardly noticed, we ended up in the back hall.

"I think the party is that way," I said.

"Which is why we're going this way. You looked like you needed a break." He swung me into an alcove. "And I wanted to thank you for the speech. Perfect, as always."

He pressed me back against the wall, lips coming to mine in the kind of deep, hungry kiss that had, a year ago, made me decide James Morgan was a lot more interesting than he looked.

When I finally needed oxygen, I pulled back and whispered in his ear, "If you want to thank me properly, I noticed the east wing was cordoned off."

He chuckled. "Dare I ask how you noticed that when we came in the west doors?"

"I wander."

The chuckle deepened, and he lowered his hands to my rear, pulling me against him as he kissed my neck.

"But it should probably wait," I said. "You are a guest of honor, and it would be most improper--"

"I like improper."

He let me down and we zipped along the hall toward the east wing.

I leaned against the wall, skirt hiked up my hips, legs still wrapped around him.

"I definitely need to write you more speeches," I said.

A rough laugh. "I definit

ely need to find more occasions for you to write me speeches."

We rested there. It was peaceful--the white walls, the distant voices blending into a monotone murmur, the stomach-churning mix of perfume and cologne reduced to the spicy scent of his aftershave. I buried my face against his neck, inhaled, and relaxed.

He kissed my hair. "Speaking of speeches..."

I lifted my head. He adjusted his stance, lowering me to the ground.

"I need to ask you something." He cleared his throat. "This isn't quite how I planned it. I was going to take you to a fancy dinner and pop the question..."

"Uh-huh. While I'm flattered that the sex was so good it caused temporary amnesia, we're already engaged."