like mosquito netting.”
Carmen’s hand squeezed his shoulder. Rolling her eyes, she said to Theresa, “Men. They have no taste when it comes to this kind of thing.” Using Damien’s shoulder for support—and getting in another squeeze—she straightened. “This calls for champagne. I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t—” Theresa started to say, but Carmen had gone. The prof turned to Damien with a mischievous grin. “I’m with you. That dress does look like mosquito netting.”
“Unless your guy’s into the whole wilderness safari thing, I’d stick with the other one.”
“It’s not me who’s getting married. It’s my baby sister.”
“Ohhhh.” The one syllable eased out of him slowly, on a breath of…Relief? No, it had to be pure sexual pleasure that she wasn’t already taken. That she was fair game, to stick with the safari analogy.
“I’m flying to Vancouver, where my parents and Merilee live, to organize the wedding.”
“And you’re not married yourself?”
“No.” Those billabong eyes studied him for a long moment. “Divorced. And not about to give it a second shot.”
So, she had personal experience with those divorce statistics. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”
She shrugged nonchalantly, but shadows clouded her eyes. “It was a learning experience. How about you?”
“Haven’t even come close.”
“Guess you have more sense than I did.”
“Not so sure it’s a matter of good sense. I’ve got nothing against the idea. In principle.” He gave her a quick grin. “Or at least I didn’t, until you started quoting stats. Just haven’t found a woman who doesn’t bore me.” Even as he said the words, he wished he could call them back. Not that they weren’t true, but they made him sound like a—
“Don’t think well of yourself, do you?” she taunted.
“Nah.” He laughed. “Well, kinda. You have to think well of yourself. I mean, who else is gonna do it?”
She laughed. Man, the woman had a pretty laugh, soft and husky like a breeze rustling through gum leaves. “I’ll give you that. But how can you suggest that all women are boring?”
“Not what I said.” He paused, setting her up. “Haven’t found a bloke I’d want to marry, either.”
Another chuckle. “Somehow I don’t figure you as gay.”
“You think?”
Oh, yeah, he liked her smile, her laugh, the sunlight-on-water sparkle in her eyes. Things were definitely looking up.
He didn’t even mind when Carmen arrived with the champagne. At least until she bent toward Theresa to hand her a flute glass, and shoved her left boob in his face.
Not that he had anything against women’s breasts. In fact he might’ve taken Carmen up on her offer if he hadn’t been sitting beside Theresa.
But now there was Theresa—whose lit-up face had transformed to a disgusted scowl—and he’d rather have her company. She was sexier, prettier, more interesting, and there was that challenge factor. The time limitation, too; he had only ten hours to charm her.
He had to do something about Carmen. Theresa’s magazine gave him an idea. Could he persuade her to go along with it?
When Carmen reached for the used glass he’d kept, he said, “Mind getting me a fresh one?”
“Happy to.” She pirouetted and headed up the aisle, curvy arse wriggling.
Quickly he turned to Theresa. “Do me a favor. Pretend we’re engaged.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Save me from that woman’s clutches.”
“That…Carmen? But you’ve been flirting with her.”
“Reflex. A stupid one I now regret. Help me out?”
An eyebrow kinked. “You do know, she’d give you pretty much anything you want?”
“She doesn’t have anything I want.” He glanced up and saw Carmen heading back from the galley. “Please?”
“You’re sure?”
Damien grabbed her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. Warm, soft skin; the interlocking of their fingers making him think of their bodies entwining. Oh yeah,
Carmen’s hand squeezed his shoulder. Rolling her eyes, she said to Theresa, “Men. They have no taste when it comes to this kind of thing.” Using Damien’s shoulder for support—and getting in another squeeze—she straightened. “This calls for champagne. I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t—” Theresa started to say, but Carmen had gone. The prof turned to Damien with a mischievous grin. “I’m with you. That dress does look like mosquito netting.”
“Unless your guy’s into the whole wilderness safari thing, I’d stick with the other one.”
“It’s not me who’s getting married. It’s my baby sister.”
“Ohhhh.” The one syllable eased out of him slowly, on a breath of…Relief? No, it had to be pure sexual pleasure that she wasn’t already taken. That she was fair game, to stick with the safari analogy.
“I’m flying to Vancouver, where my parents and Merilee live, to organize the wedding.”
“And you’re not married yourself?”
“No.” Those billabong eyes studied him for a long moment. “Divorced. And not about to give it a second shot.”
So, she had personal experience with those divorce statistics. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”
She shrugged nonchalantly, but shadows clouded her eyes. “It was a learning experience. How about you?”
“Haven’t even come close.”
“Guess you have more sense than I did.”
“Not so sure it’s a matter of good sense. I’ve got nothing against the idea. In principle.” He gave her a quick grin. “Or at least I didn’t, until you started quoting stats. Just haven’t found a woman who doesn’t bore me.” Even as he said the words, he wished he could call them back. Not that they weren’t true, but they made him sound like a—
“Don’t think well of yourself, do you?” she taunted.
“Nah.” He laughed. “Well, kinda. You have to think well of yourself. I mean, who else is gonna do it?”
She laughed. Man, the woman had a pretty laugh, soft and husky like a breeze rustling through gum leaves. “I’ll give you that. But how can you suggest that all women are boring?”
“Not what I said.” He paused, setting her up. “Haven’t found a bloke I’d want to marry, either.”
Another chuckle. “Somehow I don’t figure you as gay.”
“You think?”
Oh, yeah, he liked her smile, her laugh, the sunlight-on-water sparkle in her eyes. Things were definitely looking up.
He didn’t even mind when Carmen arrived with the champagne. At least until she bent toward Theresa to hand her a flute glass, and shoved her left boob in his face.
Not that he had anything against women’s breasts. In fact he might’ve taken Carmen up on her offer if he hadn’t been sitting beside Theresa.
But now there was Theresa—whose lit-up face had transformed to a disgusted scowl—and he’d rather have her company. She was sexier, prettier, more interesting, and there was that challenge factor. The time limitation, too; he had only ten hours to charm her.
He had to do something about Carmen. Theresa’s magazine gave him an idea. Could he persuade her to go along with it?
When Carmen reached for the used glass he’d kept, he said, “Mind getting me a fresh one?”
“Happy to.” She pirouetted and headed up the aisle, curvy arse wriggling.
Quickly he turned to Theresa. “Do me a favor. Pretend we’re engaged.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Save me from that woman’s clutches.”
“That…Carmen? But you’ve been flirting with her.”
“Reflex. A stupid one I now regret. Help me out?”
An eyebrow kinked. “You do know, she’d give you pretty much anything you want?”
“She doesn’t have anything I want.” He glanced up and saw Carmen heading back from the galley. “Please?”
“You’re sure?”
Damien grabbed her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. Warm, soft skin; the interlocking of their fingers making him think of their bodies entwining. Oh yeah,
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