He has to stop for a wave of applause. The crowd loves him. “Nice event, husband,” I whisper to Neil. “Well done.”
“You won’t want to hear this, but it was all Iris’s doing.” I make a face, and he smiles. “Also? I’m going to need you to dance with me in a minute.”
“Already?” I whine.
“It’s almost time. But I’ll take it easy on you. No dips, no flips. Only a few twirls.”
“Not funny,” I grumble under my breath.
Justin Branaman brings his speech to a heartfelt close, and the room applauds wildly. “Thank you very much. And now I thought I’d kick off the dancing with a song I wrote for my second album. I sure hope you enjoy it.”
He puts the mic on a stand while the lights change. A curtain goes up, revealing a seven-piece band. The rock star takes a moment to tune his guitar. Then he nods at the drummer, who begins a four-beat count with his sticks.
Then they all begin to play.
“Okay, this is it.” Neil stands up, giving my hand a gentle tug. “Come and dance with me.”
I rise, even though I’m confused. “But there’s nobody dancing yet.”
“Yep. That’s the point. It’s our job to get things started. Come on, beautiful. They’ll only stare for a second.”
Oh man. I let him lead me around our table toward the dance floor set up in the middle of the room. As we pass Iris, she gives me a look that could curdle milk. And it occurs to me that she was probably hand in hand with Neil for the first dance last year.
Maybe this makes me a terrible person, but her jealousy galvanizes me. I lift my chin and swing my hips as I follow my smokin’ hot accidental husband onto an empty dance floor. I put one hand on his hunky shoulder and slide the other one against his palm. The rock on my finger glimmers like a beacon.
Then I lift my eyes to his and give him a big, sexy smile.
“Fuck me,” he says, beginning to move. “You’re a knockout. Every man in this room is drooling into his decaf coffee right now.” He turns me slowly, his bright eyes never leaving mine.
“Or maybe they’re drooling over you? You clean up nice, Drakey. I’m sure the women and the men have noticed. And they’re all plotting my murder.”
Neil chuckles. Then he pulls me closer, and my heart does a shimmy in my chest.
Jason B. starts to sing. The song he’s chosen is called “So Far Away.” I love it for the way his voice is so achingly beautiful, but I can’t say that I’d paid much attention to the lyrics before tonight.
I need you here. Need you now.
Tried to tell you. Show you how.
But you hold yourself away.
So far away.
I want your love. I said as much.
You won’t give in. Afraid to love.
And you hold yourself away.
So far away.
A spoonful of sugar. A drop on my tongue.
I want the whole damn thing, but you’re stingy with love.
So far away…
It’s a sad song, but with a dead-sexy beat. Neil holds my gaze the whole time we’re dancing. I glance away to try to break the stare-off. But when I glance at him again, he’s right there, waiting for me.
“Charli,” he whispers.
“What?”
In answer, Neil closes his eyes. But his thumb slowly rubs my lower back.
I shiver. The Academy Awards committee should really be here to watch. He deserves an award for this performance. I hope his grumpy uncle is watching, because anyone looking at Neil right now would be a hundred percent convinced that his marriage to me is as sturdy as the Matterhorn.
Bravo, sir.
The singer hits a high note. And this seems like a very sexy song all of a sudden. Neil opens his pretty eyes and studies me at point-blank range. Then he leans in.
I stop breathing, but he doesn’t kiss me. No, it’s worse than that. He makes a deep, sexy sound and nuzzles me, his face brushing against mine.
All my nerve endings leap to attention. “Neil,” I gasp. “You can stop now. People are already convinced.”
“What people?” he whispers. “Nobody is watching us anymore.”
I glance past him and note that he’s right. The dance floor is crowded with other people now. “Then what are you doing?”
“What I’ve always wanted to do. Let’s face it, wifey. We didn’t end up wasted and half-naked together in a hotel room by accident.”
“Yes, we did. That is exactly what happened. You can’t really be suggesting that we did that on purpose.”
“It was drunk logic,” he says. “But that’s still logic. Everyone knows drunk logic comes from a place of deep-seated desire.”
“What? No. It comes from deep-seated stupidity.”
His smile grows wider, and I feel it like a heat wave. “You know I’m right. Every time I look at you for longer than a second, you get all hot and bothered.”
“I do not get hot and bothered,” I insist, even as I feel quite hot and very much bothered. At the same time.
“Keep saying that.” Neil chuckles. “You even snuggle up to me in bed, did you know that?”
“That’s crazy talk. And even if I did, I can’t be held responsible for what I do when I’m unconscious.”
“That’s too bad, because I like the unconscious you. And the silly, drunk you who doesn’t hold back.”
But I do hold back. I’m a champion holder backer. It’s my superpower, and it keeps me safe.
Neil makes it tricky, though. I have to look away from his beautiful eyes. “What is your point? You’ll never convince me that you meant to buy the world’s ugliest wedding ring and marry me at two in the morning in Vegas. If you argue that was part of your life plan, I call bullshit.”
His fingertips trace the small of my back, and I break out in goosebumps. “Part of me must have thought—on some level—that it was a fabulous idea.”
“Which part and which level? I bet I can guess.”
I make the mistake of turning toward his smile again, and it is goddamn dazzling. “Sure. Sex had something to do with it. But that’s not the thing that makes you really uncomfortable.”
“By all means go ahead and mansplain my feelings to me.”
Missing the irony, he does exactly that. “I know you’re attracted to me, and you don’t feel like admitting it. But your real problem—the thing that makes you crazy—is that you actually like me. That’s gotta drive you nuts, right? It’s always hard to change your opinion of someone. But it’s even harder for you, because you try so hard not to care enough about anyone or let them get inside here.” He actually taps one finger on the bare skin of my upper chest.
And my goosebumps double.
Even worse, he’s exactly right. I don’t want to deal with my feelings for Neil, and I shouldn’t have to. If I hadn’t gotten drunk-married to him, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. “Please get out of my head. I have very good reasons for all the things I do.”
“I know it,” he whispers. “But here’s the thing—I have really good reasons for all the things I do too.” He gazes down at me, wearing a very serious expression. His hooded eyes drop to my mouth.