Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
“You went all South of France on Fee.”
As I release her, Rose’s tone sounds playfully suspicious. She means the extra kiss I gave Fee, yet my mind takes ‘south’ some place much dirtier.
Under the table linens, my face pressed to my darling’s sweet pussy.
“Don’t be greedy,” I reply with a brazen wink. “Hey, Rocco.”
“Oncle Car!” The kid’s sticky fingers pat my neck affectionately, though he’s more interested in his dish of ice cream.
I give a bemused but unruffled Remy the same treatment. After all, it’s not considered an unmanly way to greet a friend, though I find myself laughing loudly as Rhett shoves out his hand.
“Not a fan of faire la bise?” To give a kiss.
“Depends who’s offering,” he grunts in return. “I generally like them when they come from someone better looking than you.”
“Uncle Car.” Lulu tugs on the sleeve of my jacket. “Come and be the meat in the sandwich.”
Cue another round of puzzled looks at the Durrand table.
“What?” Lulu asks, her gaze touching them each in turn. You know you’re causing a stir when a four-year-old picks up on it. “I want Uncle Carson to sit between me and Mommy.”
I take the proffered seat, silently inhaling Fee’s scent as we sit so close I feel the press of her arm against mine. I find my arm lifting almost by itself, like I’d wrap it around the back of her chair. Instead, I awkwardly reach over my chest, pulling on Lulu’s pigtail instead.
“Who tamed your hair, wild thing?”
“Arianne did it. She doesn’t pull like Mommy.” She slides Fee a superior look, though her mother is currently too fascinated by the contents of her glass to notice. “We’re going to watch The Lion King after dinner with her. Want to come?” Opening my mouth is as far as I get to an answer. “Has the flood been fixed yet? Can we move back in? I miss my bedroom.”
“You had a flood?” Rose’s voice sounds across the table. “Don’t you live in the penthouse?”
“It was more like a leak,” I answer. “We had a lot of rain.” My gaze slides to Fee’s. Or it would, if she’d only look at me instead of wishing she could disappear behind, or into, her wine glass.
“You didn’t tell me that.” Maybe it’s the suspicion in Rose’s tone that causes Fee to lift her head this time, revealing something that makes blood begin to boil in my veins.
I find my fingers on her chin, coaxing her gaze upwards, my voice a low growl.
“Who did this to you?”
38
Fee
“You’re sure you don’t have something to tell me?” Rose tilts her head back against my shoulder. “Not even a teenie weenie bit of news?”
“No, I told you already. You’re reading into the situation too much.”
“But the way he looked at you when he thought you’d been hurt. That was like, badum-badum-badum!” Hands clasped together, the makes as though to pound them over her heart.
The way he looked at me? What about how I’d returned that look? Had my heart bled from my eyes. It certainly felt like it. The war of heart and head is certainly hard fought, but no more so than when your chin in balanced in the hand of the cause.
He’d stared at me with such fierce intensity.
“I think he wants you,” she whispers urgently in my ear.
“You’re a goofball.” Jerking my shoulder dislodges her head, but not her words, as her eyes narrow teasingly, her lips curving into some semblance of a smile. It’s an expression that’s probably mirrored by mine.
“I’m also right. And that man can seduce with just a smile.”
I suppose I know that smile better than anyone else in this room. But damn his gorgeous mouth for even thinking of smiling at anyone else. Also, damn his inscrutable gaze for sliding my way.
He can’t win, can he? Want me, don’t want me.
Just please. Want me.
“I’ve never seen him hit on a girl.” Rose sits forward, reaching for her wine glass.
“Do you think that’s what’s going on over there?”
She tilts her head at my question seeming to consider the pair. “No. Women just gravitate to him. It doesn’t matter where he sits, or who he sits with, women just seem to appear. Why do you ask?” Her attention swings my way, her eyes mischievous over the rim of her glass “Do you lurve him?” she whispers sotto-voce.
“You’re drunk.”
“He’s looking o-ver,” my best friend sing-songs.
“Stop it,” I hiss, warning myself not to build my hopes up. What for, I’m not sure.
A night? A lifetime?
Why the heck did I drink so much wine?
But I’m getting ahead of myself here. It wasn’t necessarily longing I heard in his sigh when he pressed his cheek to mine. And when he saw my shiner of an eye, of course he was perturbed. He’s a good person. He looks after those he loves.