went on in years was with you, and look where that got me. Nope, the next wedding I do is going to be me marrying a lasagna.”
Chris’s eyes lit up. “You’re going to make lasagna?”
Shit.
“Ooh,” I said, lowering my voice. “I think the proposal is starting!”
I made sure my camera was ready as a guitar trio came out behind a waiter bearing a diamond ring on a silver tray. I snapped pictures as the groom got down on one knee as the guitars serenaded the bride.
Fireworks exploded out over the bay, and I took the perfect picture of the two in love, framed by a glowing firework heart.
“You made it a whole day,” I congratulated Chris, wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing slightly.
Several of the couple’s friends had surprised them at the restaurant. After taking additional pictures and expressing my best wishes to the happy couple, I took a few moments to take some shots of the moonrise over the harbor.
“Switching to nature photography?” he asked.
“I like to have shots of the surroundings. It helps tell the story,” I said. “Plus, the moon is pretty.”
I swung the camera around to take a few shots of Chris posed like a male model against the railing of the outdoor deck.
“I guess you’re ready to go home.” I lowered my camera.
“You’re the one who goes to sleep early,” he said, pushing off of the railing. “This is when my night usually starts.”
“Maybe you can head out to a club and blow off some steam,” I said, feeling slightly irritated at the thought of him out there with other women, prettier women.
“Blow off some steam?” he repeated, taken aback.
“You’ve been really wound up lately,” I said lightly as I turned to pack away my camera gear. “You have these bouts of masculine hysterics, then you suddenly seem perfectly normal. Then the next moment you’re pensive and broody like you just stepped out of a trashy Victorian gothic novel.”
Chris raised his hands in a what-the-fuck gesture.
“The only reason I’m wound up, as you put it,” he growled, “is you! You’re in my house, in my life. I can’t think—hell, I can’t even sleep. Your stuff is everywhere, your hair is everywhere, the smell of you is everywhere—I can’t escape it!”
“I smell?” I said, horrified.
“You smell amazing,” he purred, voice dropping an octave. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to him and burying his face in my neck.
“Fucking fantastic.”
His hard, muscular body against mine felt fucking fantastic.
“What about the annulment?” I squeaked, trying to convince myself I should push Chris off.
He pressed hot kisses against my neck right under my jaw.
“Maybe we’ll just have to settle for a divorce,” he rasped. “My lawyers are preparing both sets of paperwork in case the annulment fails.”
“I think you’re going to regret this later,” I said, still not letting him go.
He pulled back slightly to look down at me. Gosh, he is so tall!
“I’m going to regret it if I don’t.”
He leaned down, closing the distance between us, pressing his mouth to mine. My lips zinged as Chris’s hands trailed up and down my back. His tongue pressed lightly against my lips then slipped into my mouth to tangle with mine.
I tipped my head back, moaning slightly as he took my mouth.
I wanted the kiss to go on forever. Hell, if there hadn’t been a whole engagement party just inside the restaurant, I probably would have undid my clothes right then and there.
Wait, what am I doing?
He and I had a deal—an uncomplicated annulment in exchange for living in his house.
Chris ran so hot and cold, who knew if this kiss would set him off? He could flip out, accuse me of trying to steal his money, then kick me and Gran out of the house. We’d have nowhere else to go!
I pushed him off.
His eyes had this slightly glazed, intense look.
“This is not happening again,” I warned, trying to control my breathing. “We are not in love; we don’t even like each other.”
28
Chris
Grace doesn’t like me.
The car ride back to the penthouse was tense. She sat as far away from me as she could while I relived the kiss over and over again.
She said it couldn’t happen again.
She was right that it couldn’t.
But I wanted it again.
I stared at Grace in the darkness of the car.
Her eyes flicked over and met mine. She let out an exasperated breath.
“Stop looking at me,” she said.
“You’re looking at me,” I replied, grinning in the dark.