The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy) (38 page)

Grinning, Miles goosed her thigh as he
reached for the tablecloth.

Then he paused. Slowly looked back at
her.

He held her gaze for a few deep breaths.
Something in his eyes made her heart, already racing, trip over
itself.

The playfulness faded away. No hint of a
smile remained. She swallowed over the dryness in her throat as he
reached up and cupped her jaw in his palm.

“I love you, Lucy.”

She stopped breathing. “Christ,” she
whispered.

“I want you in my life.”

She was shaking. “It’s too soon.”

At that, he smiled. “I thought you were in a
hurry.”

Not for that.
“But we—”

“Tonight,” he said, and left.

* * *

Feet sore, dress rumpled, heart fragile, Lucy
waved at Shawn as she opened the door to her cabin.

The golf cart guy raised a hand and drove
off, the thick black mustache failing to hide the grin on his
face.

Maybe I’m not the first slutty bridesmaid
you’ve found under the cake table
, she thought.

She shut the door behind her, leaned against
it, closed her eyes.

Miles had given his toast to the bride and
groom, hamming up his role as drunk, irresponsible best man. The
crowd laughed and cried. Lucy managed to slip into a seat next to
Betty at the head table without drawing too much attention.

Though Betty found some grass in her hair.
“Nice bling. Have fun?”

Face burning, Lucy forked a huge bite of
wedding cake into her mouth. “Is it that obvious?”

“I saw you come out. So to speak.”

Oh, God.
“Anyone else?”

“Who cares?”

Betty was right. It didn’t matter what other
people thought.

What Miles thought, however… saying he loved
her…

He’d been drinking, turned on, caught up in
high emotions of the day.

Well, the day was nearly over now. Fawn and
Huntley were off on their honeymoon, happy and hitched and starting
their ever after. Krista, a softball star in junior high, caught
the bouquet before disappearing with Alex. And Betty took off with
Jaynette in her old car to explore the Lost Coast up north for a
few days.

Leaving Lucy alone in her cabin. Waiting.

She hung up the dress, a fruitless effort
since it was badly wrinkled, frayed on one side, and streaked with
dirt. Not that she had a place for such a dress in her normal life
anyway.

Running her finger along the scooped
neckline, she remembered Miles’s touch and shivered.

Too much, too fast.

She peeled off the chemise and everything
else and got into the shower. The hot water felt good, washing away
makeup and dust, the soreness in her shoulders. But it couldn’t
touch the fear.

What if he regretted what he’d said?

If only they could go back in time. Meet
years ago, when she was still in her twenties, uneasy with the cold
bed she shared with Dan. They could have taken their time—

No. Stupid to speculate. She turned off the
shower and stepped onto the soft mat. Pausing at the door to
confirm the cabin was quiet, she jogged naked out the back door and
flipped back the hot tub cover.

Steam billowed up. It was only mid-afternoon,
and the sun was still uncovered by fog, but the coastal air was
typically chilly.

She sank under the water and sighed.

Why am I smiling?

It was wrong, it was foolish, it was
dangerous.

Eyes closed, she let her legs float while the
jets pounded her back and she thought about Miles—and smiled.

She loved him too, and not just as a human
being.

It should’ve been impossible.

And it could never last. Right?

The sound of a door slamming made her open
her eyes.

“I didn’t want to scare you.” Miles stood
next to the spa. He’d changed out of his tux into jeans and a snug
black T-shirt. His brown hair was tousled, his jaw shadowed with
the hint of an afternoon beard. Hands in his pockets, he watched
her with a sober, slightly anxious expression on his face.

“Too late,” she said softly.

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Is
it?”

She stretched her arms out beside her along
the edge of the spa, nodding. Her breasts bobbed at the
surface.

His gaze dropped, along with his smile. “I
thought we should talk.”

Her stomach clenched. She didn’t want to
talk. He looked so serious, so worried. “Join me first.”

“We should—we really should talk.”

The sun sparked amber highlights in his hair,
making him seem warm, young, vulnerable.

She floated over onto her stomach and held
her hand out over the edge to him. “After.”

“Lucy—”

“Whatever happens, I want one more time with
you.”

His brow wrinkled. “Whatever happens, I want
more than one time.”

She shrugged. Got her feet under her on the
seat and slowly stood up.

His eyes drifted down to her wet, naked body.
She ran her hands over her stomach to her breasts and stroked,
squeezed, pinched her erect nipples.

His jaw clenched. “You don’t play fair.”

“Neither do you.”

“I swore to myself we’d talk.”

She grabbed a handful of T-shirt fabric and
pulled him closer. Her other hand worked the lower hem free,
slipped around his waist, found warm skin. Making a low growl in
his throat, he stepped into her embrace. Emboldened, she lifted up
his shirt and stroked the hard, broad muscles of his back, his
shoulders. As the shirt went over his head, she rubbed her breasts
against his bare chest. “We can talk, too.”

“I give up. Come here.” He reached down,
moving his hands over her ass, and lifted her up to his mouth.

His hard, open kiss ended the
conversation.

Her hair had dried in a funny tangle over her
left cheek. Lightly, careful not to wake her, Miles brushed it
aside and studied the little pearls dotting the curve of her
earlobe. Her breathing was deep and slow, her mouth slightly parted
against his chest. She was smiling.

Would now be a good time?

Sure, now would be great. Since she’s
asleep
, you dumb-ass.

“Lucy?”

“Mmmm.” The arm over his chest stretched.
Pulled him closer.

“It’s getting late. You want to go find some
dinner?”

She cracked open an eye. “Storing up for
winter again?”

“Something like that.” He slipped his hand
down her naked back, found the comforter, pulled it up over her
shoulders. “And I did want to talk. We… what I said… ”

His mouth went dry. He swallowed over the
lump, licked his lips.
Wrong time. What if she says no? They’re
in bed together. Naked. Totally awkward.

Both her eyes were open now. She lifted her
head and smiled. “You already went out on a limb. Let me go first
this time.”

He exhaled in relief.
You coward.
“Okay.”

She ducked her head for a moment. Curls
tumbled over her forehead. Then she looked up, her smile gone. “I’d
like to see your apartment.”

“Oh.”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Well, it wasn’t my ultimate goal, no.”

“But it means—we could, you know, keep seeing
each other.”

“Obviously we’re going to keep seeing each
other.”

She pulled up into a sitting position, taking
the comforter with her. “Obviously?”

“You think I was going to let you hide in
Berkeley and never see me again?”

“So you were committed to stalking me?”

“If necessary.”

“Even if I said I didn’t want to see you
anymore?”

“I’d be like that guy on the news. Hiding in
the bushes outside your apartment. Calling you day and night.
Visiting you at work.”

She turned away, grabbed a water bottle on
the bedside table, and drank. “Maybe we should get dressed before
we have this conversation.”

Suddenly that seemed like a very bad idea.
“No, let’s talk now.”

“I don’t like hearing about your detailed
plans to stalk me when I’m in bed naked with you.”

“It wouldn’t have been against your
will.”

She rolled out of bed and went over to the
armoire. “You’re probably kidding, but I just can’t joke about
stuff like that.”

The way she pulled on a T-shirt and underwear
at light speed reminded him of the other night at the Peace Yurt.
He put his feet on the floor and looked around for his own jeans.
Remembering they were outside near the spa, probably wet, he sank
back onto the bed. “Come back here. I was just kidding.”

She stared at him. “It was all the detail
that got me. Like you’d really thought it out.”

“Sorry. Believe me, I’m not thinking about
anything except how to get you naked again.” He stretched out on
his side, patted the mattress.

“Sorry to overreact. I just, well, felt like
you took the wind out of my sails. After our fight yesterday, I
thought you’d be happy I wasn’t… you know…… ”

“Will you sit down?”

She did. And took off her T-shirt too.
“Happy?”

He grinned, so happy he almost forgot there
was something big he wanted to say. “Actually, maybe you should put
that back on,” he said, staring at her chest. “Damn, you’re
pretty.”

After a quick kiss on his lips, she flipped
onto her side, nestling her bottom into his lap. “There. Now you
can’t see.” She wiggled. “And we’re both comfortable.”

He held her, desperately trying to stay
focused, painfully distracted by the delicious handful in his arms.
“When I said stalk—”

“Bad word choice.”

“Yes. Agreed. When I said it though, what I
meant was
pursue
.”

“Much better.”

“But even that doesn’t quite capture my
intent, which—”

“Because ‘stalk’ is just creepy. Even when
I’m totally in love with the guy saying it.”

His breath hitched. He stretched up on one
elbow and brushed the hair off her face to see her expression
better. “Is that what you are?”

“Yes. Go on.”

He sank back down, his heart thudding against
his ribs.
She said it.
“You’ve derailed me. Again. Please
don’t interrupt. What I—”

“Sorry. I won’t—”

He put a hand over her mouth.

“Great, first you stalk me, then you get
rough,” she said through his fingers, her voice muffled.

“What I mean to say was that I’d chase after
you until you gave in and married me, though now that you’re
convinced I’m a pathologically violent, deranged maniac—”

She rolled out of his arms and stared at him.
Her face was not suffused with the joy he’d hoped for. In fact, she
looked a little pissed.

“More bad word choices?” he asked.

“Please don’t joke about getting married. I
said we’d keep seeing each other. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Well, I’d leave it at that, I really would,
except marriage is all I’ve been thinking about all day.”

“That’s natural. We’ve been at a
wedding
.”

He shrugged. “So? It put things in
perspective. It showed me how good it could be. How if I had it
with anyone, it would be with you.”

“
If
you had it?”

“Stop nit-picking my words! I’m proposing
here, damn it!”

“Well, don’t! I’d just decided you were right
and it was best to take it slow!”

They stared at each other, now sitting a
couple of feet apart on the bed. Breathing heavily, Lucy spun away
from him and grabbed her T-shirt again. This time, Miles also got
out of bed to cover up. His armored motorcycle suit would be nice,
given how raw his ego felt, but he had to settle for his boxer
briefs.

He stood with his back to her, struggling to
rally his confidence. She liked having sex with him, obviously; why
did he assume she’d want him for anything else? Her thing about
marrying Alex always seemed like a smokescreen to him, so why would
he be any different?

* * *

“Miles.” She came up behind him, sliding her
hands around his waist. He was warm and solid. Real. Too good to
risk losing now. “You’re a wonderful man.”

“Not enough, I guess.”

She tried to rotate him, but he was as
immovable as Half Dome. Smiling against his skin, she hugged him
tighter. “You don’t have to propose to me.”

“Oh, yes I do.”

His belly was warm. She spent a moment
enjoying it. “You were right. It’s too soon.”

“I’m not afraid of commitment. I’m afraid of
the opposite.”

“I know.”

“You’ve met my father. Who’s to say I can do
any better than him?”

“I do. You have and you will.” She stepped
around him and looked up into his face. “But this is exactly why I
don’t want to rush you into anything.”

“You’re worse than I am, you know.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’d be married by now if you really wanted
to be.”

She sighed. Rested her cheek against his
chest. “I wish that were true.”

“You don’t think so?”

“It’s hard to admit I would’ve married
somebody like Dan instead of waiting for you.”

“You did wait for me.”

“No, he dumped me. Thank God.”

“I don’t believe it. He was just a decoy. You
stayed with him so you could avoid the real deal. Because you
weren’t ready.”

She gave him a squeeze. “I’m ready. You’re
not.”

“I’m not like you. I don’t need Excel to
figure out what I want.”

“No, just to figure out what I want.” Smiling
up at him, she pushed him down on the bed. “I’m ready to work
through your spreadsheet, by the way. Starting with ‘tongue.’”

“Just say you’ll marry me. I’ve already
proposed twice and you’ve turned me down each time.” He pulled her
into his lap. “I’m not sure I can keep asking.”

She put a hand on his cheek. “Tell you what.
When I think you’re ready, I’ll ask
you
.”