She shook her head. “Don’t be. It is what it is.” What would he think if he found out she’d never intended to marry Mitch at all? Would he judge her like Megan had? She couldn’t take the risk.
Once he got the bottom strings free, the rest unlaced more quickly, loosening the dress enough for her to take it off.
“Do you want to take a shower?” he asked. “I’ll pull a T-shirt out of my bag and leave it on the counter while you’re in there.”
Holding the front of her dress to her chest, she turned and looked up at him. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she blurted out.
Surprise washed over his face. “I thought we’d already been over that. You’ve had a shitty day and I’m being a good friend.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “Look, today and tomorrow are your days—”
“You really plan to make tomorrow Libby St. Clair Day?”
He grinned. “You bet your sweet ass I do, but before you think I’m being chivalrous, consider this: Maybe I’ll have a shitty day next week, and then I’ll expect you to wait on me hand and foot. Paybacks are awesome.”
He was almost self-centered enough to make her believe his explanation. Almost. “So you’re like the ant in the ant and the grasshopper story.”
He held up his hands in protest. “If I have to be a bug, I’d rather be a scorpion.”
She shook her head and moved closer to him. “A scorpion is more like a spider than an insect, and even so, you’re not a spider.” She grinned. “More like a roly poly.”
Mock anger filled his eyes. “You’re dead to me, woman. I guess you’ll be sleeping in the buff tonight.”
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
He pulled her into a hug. “Always, Lib,” he said. “I mean it.”
And she could tell that he did, which made her feel bad for doubting him earlier at the church.
Maybe there was hope for Noah McMillan yet.
Chapter Seven
Noah set his carry-on bag on the bed. When he heard the water in the shower turn on, he stopped unzipping the suitcase and took a deep breath. Libby was in the other room—naked—and his thoughts raced into dangerous territory.
He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman.
Part one of his plan had come to fruition without his involvement—the wedding had been aborted—but now what did he do? Libby had shot down his proposition a month ago. Could he really risk laying it on the line? The thought terrified him—what if she refused to give them a try?—but right now it didn’t matter. While he might be ready to give their relationship a shot, she’d only just broken up with Mitch. This was hardly the time to make his feelings known to her.
He pulled out a T-shirt and cautiously pushed the bathroom door open. Her wedding dress lay in a giant puddle of fabric on the floor. “Lib, I’m putting my shirt on the counter.”
“Thanks.”
He set it next to her towel, then picked up her dress and carried it out with him, shutting the door behind him. Holding it up in front of him, he studied the silk gown. Based on what she’d told him about her football-centric disaster of a wedding, this was probably the only part of the whole affair that had truly been her. Unsure of what to do with it, he laid it across the back of the desk chair—the skirt billowing everywhere—then pulled out another T-shirt for himself.
The bed loomed in the middle of the room, teasing him. He had no clue how they were going to handle sleeping together. For one thing, Noah usually slept in his briefs, which meant he had no pajama bottoms. He’d have to settle for wearing a T-shirt over them, but the feelings of protectiveness she’d stirred inside of him were also rousing other feelings that might not be so easy to hide if they were nearly naked and close together in bed.
He’d think about that later. Right now he had to figure out where they were going for Libby St. Clair Day. What would make her the happiest?
He gasped when the answer hit him, and he pulled out his laptop to search the Internet for wacky tourist attractions. He’d made a list and mapped a few out by the time she emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair hanging in loose waves over her shoulders and down her back. Her long sexy legs peeked out from under his shirt, which hung mere inches below the curve of her ass. Every nerve ending pinged at the sight of her and he resisted the urge to jump up and show her how much he wanted her. He forced himself to act natural.
“Feel better?”
“Yeah.”
He slowly stood, trying to be nonchalant.
She nodded to his laptop. “You working?”
“Working?” he teased, even though the reminder that he was no longer employed made his stomach sink. “There’s no real work allowed on Libby St. Clair Day. Only play. I was planning it for us.”
Her eyes lit up with excitement. “What did you come up with?”
He shook his head and closed the lid. “It’s a surprise.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
“It’s perfectly fair.” He grabbed his T-shirt and toiletry bag. “I’m going to take a shower now.”
“All right.”
He grinned. There was a cute smirk on her face—the one she always got when she was up to something sneaky. “Feel free to try and figure out the password on my laptop. It’s unbreakable.”
Her eyes widened in mock indignation, but she didn’t try to protest. She knew he had her figured out.
When he emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, he found her on the bed, propped up against the headboard on a pile of pillows. The covers were pulled back, but her bare legs were tucked to the side and his computer was on her lap. She looked up, not even pretending to hide what she’d been doing.
God, he loved that about her.
“No luck, huh?” he asked smugly.
She started to respond, then stopped, lifting her gaze up from his legs to his face. “No.”
Was she bothered by his lack of pants? The shirt he’d picked covered all the essential parts in the front, but left his briefs-covered ass exposed in the back. Libby wasn’t the kind of woman to be offended by naked bodies. If anything, her art background made her appreciate the human form more than most people. So if it wasn’t his body in general, did that mean she was affected by him?
Could she want him too?
His pulse quickened at the thought, but he told himself that he had to take this slow. She needed time, and right now she needed him to be her friend. And while it was no secret that Noah had slept with more women than was respectable, Libby had her own more-than-healthy share of short-lived relationships.
Lately he’d found himself in the strange situation of offering others advice in matters of the heart, so he made himself take a step back and fill that role for himself. What advice would he give another person in his situation? He’d encouraged Garrett to go for it, but Garrett had only had days to convince Blair to cancel her wedding. Libby had already run out of hers. He’d gotten to know Libby well enough to realize she was vulnerable now. It wouldn’t take much to convince her to sleep with him, but he also knew her well enough to realize that if she did sleep with him, it would be as a short-term emotional Band-Aid.