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“That we were still deciding where we’d ultimately settle—here or in New York.”
“I’d never live apart from my fiancée.”
“No, you wouldn’t, would you, Mr. Perfect? But Kyle bought it—probably because he’s Mr. Asshole!” she said. “And let’s face it, everyone back in those DC days knew your family was rusted onto the Upper East Side and you’d be rusting on right along with them in due course. Plus I’d made it crystal clear to Kyle during our ill-fated, short-lived romance that it would take a miracle to budge me from Australia, so yeah, you and I had big decisions to make.”
“Then why did we decide to get married?”
“Er, because we were in love?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “If I loved you so much I’d consider leaving New York for you, why couldn’t I be bothered to come with you to your ex-boyfriend’s wedding?”
“Ah, well, you see, your father was receiving some big law prize, so you sent Matt to represent you and to—to protect me.”
“Protect you from what?”
“Unwanted advances.”
“Whose?”
“Kyle’s, of course. You see, he didn’t just visit the club, he expected me to dance for him.”
“He what?”
And damn if he didn’t look as though he was going to punch something—a look she remembered from the time Kyle had come into Flick’s to rant at her after that hideous night at Club DeeCee, and Matt had had to restrain Teague to stop him intervening. “Of course, I didn’t dance for him, and he left...relatively peacefully,” she said. But Teague was still looking thrillingly on the edge of violence, so she moved right on. “So, anyway, Matt, Romy, law prize, yada yada. The thing is, we built up the story until it was so convincing, I almost believed our impending nuptials were a done deal. Frankie’s wedding—that’s what we called it. A weekend of utter insanity, looking back.”
“And none of you thought it would be of interest to me to know I’d suddenly acquired a fiancée?” he asked, supercarefully.
“No-o-o, because—technical point—you hadn’t acquired one. And they probably didn’t tell you because...” She trailed off there because somehow, without changing his expression, he looked more ominous than he had over Kyle being a dick.
“Because?” he breathed out.
Swallow. Pull off the bandage fast now. “Because we knew you’d hate it.”
“And how did you know that?”
“Because you weren’t, you aren’t... I mean you’re not... That is, you’re...you...?”
A moment, during which he blinked once, and then he said, “I see.”
His face was completely expressionless now, and that made Frankie so nervous—and, face it, way too turned on—she couldn’t immediately think how to proceed.
“Go on,” Teague said, his voice as smooth as dark blue silk.
“I guess the thing that made it work was that Kyle was never going to see you again, because he’s not in your circle or your league, and he and Laura were going to live in Chicago, which meant I was never going to see them again, so...”
“So?”
“Well, so what was the harm in it?”
He blinked at her again. Blink. Blink. Banked fury is how she’d describe it. Hot as fuck! “And the ring?” he said.
“We knew it needed to be a good one, because everyone knows you’re filthy rich. No, not filthy. Never filthy. Clean. Clean-cut. I mean—” Stop. Babbling. She cleared her throat, got herself together. “So, anyway, the three of us went shopping, and we chose this one—” she waggled the fingers of her left hand “—because it looked like the kind of ring that would come out of a rich family’s vault.”
“It’s nothing like the rings in our family vault!”
“Well, Kyle didn’t know that. And you have to admit it looks expensive. Because it was expensive.”
“And Matt bought it for you—even though he could have borrowed one from my actual family vault if he’d bothered to ask me.”
“But they thought... They never would have expected, um...”
“I get it. Believe me, I get it. I was not—not...”
“Not insane,” she said, because surely that was a compliment, but he blinked again, like it was some strange, startling, unwelcome news being broken to him. “And, anyway, the ring was a last-minute plot embellishment so there wouldn’t have been time to ask you for a ring, even if we’d dared, and...and...and what difference does it make? Matt was on the way to being seriously wealthy, and you know how generous he is and—”
“So why didn’t you keep it, if he could so easily spare the money?”
“Because I don’t do that. I don’t accept unearned gifts from men. Matt knows that. The plan was for him to sell it and donate the money to charity.”
“Charity.”
“Charity. But I guess... Well, it wasn’t important to him, the—the ring...after it served its purpose. So he—he forgot about it.”
“Forgot.”
“Forgot. Until...” She paused to take a deep breath. “Until a week ago, which is where things get tricky.”
“Tricky?”
“Or interesting, depending on your point of view.”
“Interesting.”
“The fact you keep repeating me makes me think you may need to pour yourself some more whiskey.”
“I don’t need any more whiskey.”
“Then pour it and put it in the middle of the table in case I need it.”
He said nothing, just grimly poured the whiskey then pushed the glass dead center.
“So,” she continued, “think about what happened a week ago.”
“Can we not play guessing games?”
“I need to do this gradually.”
“A week ago...” he prompted.
“Rose’s christening” she said. “Matt called to thank me for the gift I’d sent.”
“The silver rattle with the coral teething handle.”
“Oh!” she said, surprised. “You saw it?”
He shrugged, looking grumpily awkward, as though he’d been caught doing something embarrassing. “They showed me all the gifts.”
“Did you like it?”
Another awkward shrug. “It’s very...you. The vintage thing.”
“So you didn’t like it?”
“What? Yes. No. I mean—What? I liked it, okay? I do like it.”
“So you like me?”
“I, er... What?”
“You say the rattle is very me, and you like it, which has to mean you like me. Don’t look so freaked out! It’s not a crime to like me. Lots of people do.”
“Yes, all right, I like you. Now can we move on?”
“Okay, okay!” she said. “Sorry to discompose you.”
“I’m not discomposed.”
Except that he was, she could tell.
“I like you, too,” she said, just to push it.
“Frankie, for the love of—”
“Fine, fine, keep your shirt on...or not. Sorry! Okay, I’ll get on with it. The thing is, the fact the rattle is vintage reminded Matt he still had the ring, which is art deco, of course, and we—we did a deal and...” She stopped there, reaching for words. “Hmm. This is harder than I thought it’d be.”
He multitasked by giving her a what-the-fuck? look while shaking his head and throwing his hands in the air, and she had to fight hard to resist raising her hand to her hot cheek again. Blushing was so obvious—no wonder she never did it! But she had to continue, blush or not, because she could almost see her window of opportunity closing and she knew once it closed it wasn’t going to open again. It was now or never.
“In for a penny, right?” she said, and scraped her chair back from the table as though the extra foot she’d put between them would help her breathe. “The ring... I told you, I didn’t want it.”
He looked pointedly at her finger.
“Yes, I know, I’ve ended up with it anyway,” she said, and removed the ring, put it back in the pouch and tugged the zipper closed. “But what if I were to tell you the only reason I let Matt send it was because he promised me you’d bring it?”
“I’d say he and Romy could have told me over scones and tea anytime this past week instead of making me think there was some dark betrayal going on with all the cloak-and-dagger crap he went through at the airport.”
“You’re really not getting it, are you?” She covered her face with her hands. “Am I not making it obvious or does he just not want to know?” she said into them.
“If I’m the ‘he’ you’re talking about,” Teague said dryly, “I can assure you ‘he’ would love to know what’s going on!”
She took in a deep breath, then removed her hands. “A dark betrayal—that’s exactly what was going on. Nothing to do with him and me, nothing to do with you and Romy. To do with you and me.”
“Yes, with me as your unwitting fiancé, I got that.”
“Not that.” She licked her lips. She’d always prided herself on her straightforwardness but God, this was difficult. “The thing is, I’ve thought about you... I mean, you’re so... It’s just that—” She broke off with an inarticulate exclamation of disgust. “Okay, I’m just going to say it.”
“Well, thank God for that!”
“It wasn’t the ring Matt was sending me. He was sending me...you.”
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
And then he frowned like he really did not get it!
“Teague!” she cried. “Seriously!”
He looked behind him, as though he thought she must be talking to someone else even though she’d just addressed him by his damn name.
“Teague!” Trying again. “I’m talking about you having a fling while you’re here.”
“I don’t have flings.”
“Oh, I know that, Teague! I tried hard enough to get you to have a fling with me the whole time I was in DC! But now... Well, now you’re here, and I never thought you would be, so I’m making one more attempt. And you can say no, but I hope you don’t, because I think I can help you not be miserable, or at least give you a respite from it while—while you’re here. In Sydney. So. That’s all.”
Silence. Stillness.
A rush of heartbeats later, with her words hanging in the air, he shook his head. “No,” he said.
“Well!” She blushed again, brought both hands up to her face. “This is embarrassing.”
“No, I mean—” He made a sound—like a cross between a sigh and a huff. “You said something about meeting your friends, so I thought you must mean I should have fling with one of... But—” Slight head shake. “Do you mean a fling with you? No. You can’t mean that.”
“That’s funny, Teague, because I’m pretty sure what I’m doing right at this moment, sitting here at some godawful hour of the morning when I’m far from at my best, is offering myself to you straight up, since you’ve never been able to take a fucking hint.”
He looked over his shoulder again. God, did he really have no idea how insanely hot he was? He was frowning as he brought his eyes back to her. “But... I don’t... Huh?”
“I see I need to spell it out, so here goes—I want you, Teague Ingram Spencer Hamilton. I want every perfect inch of you, and I have since the moment I saw you. Which would make you the man Kyle was jealous of and therefore the perfect fake fiancé. But I can see we need to take baby steps here, so I propose that I come over there and kiss you. If you like that, we can talk about going further. If you don’t...? Well, I guess we’re no worse off, are we, since it’s just a kiss between consenting adults?”
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay?” she asked, cautious now, because that seemed way too easy a capitulation after the agony she’d just been through.
“Why not, right?” he said, and bit at his top lip. “That’s the catchphrase? Why not?”
Why not? Not exactly enthusiastic consent, but her somersaulting heart urged her to go for it anyway, so she was already bracing to get up out of the chair... But, no. No, dammit. Because it was him, she needed it spelled out. “You mean I can kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“Is that the whiskey talking?”
