Plus One Love: The Wedding Party Series

6. Amy

My feet are killingme and so are my cheeks. Although my cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing, not the dancing. From that first dance, where Micah saved me from Samuel’s clutches, he hasn’t let me leave the floor, proving he has stamina to match his muscles.

Not that I’ve minded dancing with him. Not at all. From the fast songs, where he proved he knew how to strut his stuff, to the slow songs where he held me in his arms, I’ve loved every minute of it. If only this weekend wasn’t make-believe. I could easily fall for him. There’s something about him, a charisma, a magnetism, something that draws me—and probably every woman—to him. It’s not his looks, or his money, but him, his brains, his insights, his care. And if I’m not careful, I’m going to end up hurt. Besides, he’s Elise’s. She doesn’t share well with others. It’s one thing she did mention on her phone call. “Don’t sleep with him even if he’s all over you. He’ll just be using you to replace me. And you know how I feel about people touching what is mine.”

I step away from him, waving my hands in front of my flushed face. “Enough. I’m calling it quits, giving up the ghost, whatever the vernacular is of your age group”—I wink to show him I’m joking—“but I can’t dance another step. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to walk to our room.”

He grins and before I can stop him, he scoops me into his arms, bridal style and begins to walk out of the less than half filled room. Erik and Joseph wink at me, making me realize how we look to others. We look like a couple, exactly how he wanted us to.

I wait until we’re on the path, heading towards our room before I press my hand to his chest. “Put me down. I was only joking. I can walk, just not dance anymore.”

“Nope.”

I groan at his pleased and determined expression. So far, I haven’t been able to win a single argument with him when it was about me. From the clothes he purchased for me—and by that I mean he went to the store, picked them out, brought them to the room, and told me to try them on to make sure they were the correct size or he’d go back and purchase one of every size—to the spa booking for tomorrow, to the boat ride, the time at the beach, I haven’t been able to get my way unless I was the one making a suggestion about something we could do that involved him pampering me in some way.

But when we talked business, whether it was by ourselves or with the other wedding guests, he never once bulldozed over my thoughts or opinions. He showed me respect, valued me. Even made sure that the others showed me the same when a couple of them made some disparaging comments about women in business.

And that’s why it would be so easy to fall for him, easy to believe that all this is real.

But it’s not and I need to remember that. Remember it when one touch from him renders Elise’s warning mute. One touch and I will be jumping his bones, climbing him like a tree, making mad, passionate love to him for the rest of the weekend.

A weekend to remember, but of it leading to one thing: massive heartbreak. Because when the weekend is over, when he drops me off back in Philadelphia and goes on his merry way, I’ll be left all alone, left with Elise’s anger for trespassing on her property. That knowledge is the only thing keeping me in check, keeping me from stretching up my neck and kissing those kissable lips, feeling the rasp of his beard against my skin again, ahh. All things that starred in every one of my dreams the previous night. That scrape against my skin, bringing blood to the surface, making every touch more powerful from the increased sensitivity. And not just to my face, neck, and upper chest, but to the rest of my body, my breasts, my stomach, my legs, and the place that aches and throbs the most. It’s been so bad, so real, that in every shower since that kiss—that one he did on the plane to get Brittany to back off—I was forced to take matters in my own hands so I could look at him without combusting from all the pent-up need.

“Amy-girl”—I internally sigh with pleasure at his new nickname for me when we’re alone—“thank you for tonight. How you managed to charm Erik and Joseph… well, you’re amazing. If you ever need anything, anything at all, call me because I owe you.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. His look too honest, too sincere, to full of something that I’m scared to think deeper on, has me pulling my gaze away from him to stare at my lap instead. “You really don’t owe me. I didn’t do anything outside my job description.”

His arms tighten around me, squeezing me, and every emotion is wiped off his face. I gasp, never having seen him this way before. This is the mask of the cold, calculating businessman I’ve heard all about, but haven’t seen. No wonder people are leery of him. It’s as intimidating as hell.

“Shit. Sorry.” His words express feeling, but none is found on his face even as he relaxes his hold on me, lowering me until I stand on the ground. Once stable, he backs away a little, giving us both breathing room. I’m not sure why he’s reacting this way to what I said. It’s not like I am wrong. I’m here because Elise made me come as part of my job with her. He didn’t invite me. Nor would he have if he’d had a choice. I mean, I’m so far out of his league, so much younger, and without all the life experience he has. Women flock to him. When he’s not at my side, talking to some of the businessmen I was speaking to—and sometimes even when he is—women come up to him, touching him, and the tension in his body lowers, proving he’s not relaxed when with me. But only some women. The ones who are older than me, more elegant, more worldly, more sophisticated. In other words, they’re everything I’m not. These are the types of women he likes. They’re from his world. They’re who he is comfortable with.

And I need to remember that when my imagination starts to push me into thinking there’s something between us.

“Are you good to walk or do you need…?”

“I’m good,” I assure him. As he scrutinizes me, I fake a yawn. “I’m really tired so I think I’m going to head back. Feel free to go back and party. I could see how much fun you were having.”

I spin to head back to our room when he grabs my arm, stopping me. “I meant what I said earlier. I really do owe you one. And this isn’t part of your job. I don’t care what fucking Elise said. Spending time with me, being my plus one, that should never be a job, and I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

There’s a flash of an emotion that leaves too quickly before I can name it that crosses his face. “Why don’t you grab a bath and then go to bed? I’m going to go for a walk along the beach, give you some time to yourself since I’m the one who intruded on your weekend plans.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, striding away from me without a backwards glance.

I watch him go, feeling like he’s taking part of me with him.

And that’s when I know, that despite all my good intentions, despite all my self talks and self warnings, I’ve fallen for him. Fallen in a way I’ve never done with any other guy before.

And it fucking sucks.