Sara glanced at her alarm clock. Nope, she hadn’t gotten confused about what time of day it was. Barely nine a.m.. “I know you guys are the masters of the late-night snack, but who eats pizza this early?”
“We do.” Brad grabbed Sara’s hand and tugged her to the door while Kim struggled to her feet. She glared at her brother’s retreating back though he didn’t seem to notice. “And now so do you.”
Sara had to grin. “It’s like an indoctrination.”
“A ritual. A fertility celebration if you will,” Kim called, determinedly bringing up the rear.
When Brad chuckled, Sara poked him in the ribs. “Don’t get any ideas, wise guy.”
He pulled her close and kissed her temple. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sara Smile.”
Brad dragged the tines of his fork over his plate, only vaguely aware of the benefactor droning on at the podium. He was talking about sustainable habitats and showing slides, and it was all very interesting. Or it would’ve been, if Brad hadn’t had a different preoccupation—mainly his very sleek, very sophisticated date. She sat with her hands folded primly in her lap, poised to drive him wild at the slightest provocation. She’d even worn her glasses.
Best of all? She’d been using her honeysuckle special occasion stuff all week. When he’d asked what she was celebrating, she’d told him the fundraiser. He preferred to believe she was commemorating them.
Every now and then she peered over her shoulder at him to make sure he was paying attention, and her cute little nose twitched each time he crossed his eyes to make her laugh.
The moment she faced front again, he resumed staring at her backless dress. There were few things more alluring than a woman’s naked back. Especially his Sara’s naked back. Or her front.
He reached for his water to soothe his dry throat—for some reason, he’d gotten the bug way worse than Sara, must have been some super adaptive strain—and tried not to smile. So he was gone for the sexy, smart doctor. Who could blame him?
He’d happily wake up to her for the foreseeable future, on the way to the rest of his life. But one incredible thing at a time, he mused as swing music swelled from hidden speakers and couples started to move toward the dance floor.
Huh. Imagine that. He’d missed the end of the speech.
As Kim hobbled to her feet and started to swing her butt in her version of dancing while her date looked on in bemusement, Sara leaned close. “So what do you think? Tonight hasn’t been half bad, right?”
“Not at all.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed his nose over her hair. She’d clipped it up again, but he’d yank it out later. “And you’ll notice, no one has laughed at you showing up with me. I haven’t gotten one boytoy comment yet. Except from you, since you objectify me so.” He gave an indignant sniff, pleased to hear her laugh. That sound was better than birds singing. The only sound he preferred was her orgasmic moans, and the best was a mix of the two.
“Silly, they won’t say it to our faces. It’ll be behind our backs.”
“Do you honestly care?”
She gave
him her serious doctor look before she smiled. “No. I don’t. Not anymore.”
“Good.” He trailed his fingertips down her shoulder blade and enjoyed her shudder. “Me either. Especially since you ordered that ‘mechanics tighten all my screws’ T-shirt.”
Laughing, she shook her head at him. As she often did. But he didn’t care, because she really had bought that shirt. And hell, he couldn’t argue with the sentiment. She certainly seemed happy with the service he was providing.
He hadn’t gotten over all his insecurities in her direction yet, namely those that involved his lack of an investment portfolio and membership in an alumni association from some fancy university. Getting there, though. How could he concern himself with that when her eyes lit up every damn time he entered the room?
And vice versa. Times one thousand.
“Want to dance?” She brushed her lips over his baby-smooth jaw. He’d shaved and cut his hair and suited up in a tux, all for her. Must be love. “I have a surprise for you, if you’re good.”
“What if I’m bad?”
“You get two surprises.”
He stood, moving just in time to get her chair. Stubborn woman never let him do a thing for her, except sexually. Then she could get quite demanding. “Consider me bad.”
“Oh, I already do.” Grinning, she led him to a secluded corner of the dance floor. He reached for her, but she’d already turned away to fumble with the hem of her dress. Had to be a loose thread or something. She turned back and slipped into his arms. “Show me your moves, O’Halloran.”
They danced for two songs. As great as it felt to hold Sara close and to know all the other men knew she was his—though she’d vetoed the Property of Brad O’Halloran tattoo he’d suggested for her back—he couldn’t wait anymore. “So where are my surprises?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She pressed something into his palm. It was hard and warm. And wet. Very wet.