Chapter 1 #2
A small shake of her head, and her mind felt slightly clearer.
Today was her sister’s wedding, and this absolute lump of a pretty boy was threatening to throw the whole thing off-schedule.
He needed to get himself together, then she’d hold his arm and walk down the aisle ahead of the rest of the bridal party with a smile plastered on her face. Nothing else mattered.
She tugged the collar to straighten it, then set herself to tying the bow tie.
It was the same soft lilac as her dress, but against his tawny skin, the color looked rich and creamy.
Of course it did. Her frown deepened, and Amelia used the moment to settle her unstable emotions.
She tied the fabric carefully, straightening the corners until a perfect purple bow stared back at her.
All the while, Leo’s gaze pressed like a weight. He stood very still to endure her ministrations, arms at his sides, chin lifted out of the way. But she felt it—the heaviness of his stare. He didn’t have anywhere else to look but at her, she reasoned, but it still made her want to squirm.
It was no surprise that Amelia would feel put out by a beautiful man’s gaze.
She wasn’t exactly beating men back these days.
She’d been focusing on her career; she hadn’t had time to date.
Never mind the fact that being this close to a man made Amelia feel like she had a bird trapped in her chest and noodles for limbs.
Best to avoid these sorts of situations altogether.
She wasn’t known for being a man-eater. More like a man-evader.
Sipping in a short little breath, she frowned at his vest. It, like the jacket and pants, was a navy so dark it was nearly black. His white shirt bunched awkwardly between his vest and pants. He’d have to re-tuck it.
She pointed at the offending area. “Fix this. It looks like a deflated muffin top,” she blurted—and there was the other reason she hadn’t had much luck with men.
Words sometimes fell out of her mouth without warning, and often they weren’t exactly delicate.
She’d come to learn that her lack of filter wasn’t an attractive trait.
There were many, many data points from failed dates and awkward interactions to prove it.
But Leo didn’t seem bothered. In fact, he leaned ever so slightly closer to her, so she could smell the scent of soap rising from his skin.
“I was led to believe that fixing my clothing was your job,” he answered, and for a moment, Amelia felt off-balance.
It was the velvet quality of his tone and the way his scent wrapped around her like a drugging cloud.
Then she registered the laughter in his voice.
Despite herself, Amelia’s eyes snapped up to his once more. He was mocking her. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Amelia knew it was her temper.
She just wanted this day to go right. For Maggie. For beautiful, kind Maggie with the luminous smile. Her sister deserved this. She’d found Emory, and they’d fallen in love, and now they’d have a perfect wedding day. Amelia would make sure of it.
This was what she did. She identified problems, then parsed the data into something useful.
Whether it was a complicated data set for a client, or a wedding venue scheduling for today’s event, or ordering supplies for seventy intricate handmade centerpieces (which included twenty-five hundred and ninety individual components, ordered from four different vendors), Amelia could sort any problem into a tidy, efficient solution.
She’d made sense of the wedding preparations, and now it would all go off without a hitch. No matter what the man before her did or said.
Leo narrowed his eyes, seeing something written on her face. What, she didn’t know. Maybe he could hear the thunder just as clearly as she could. Ozone crackled in the air between them, like that breathless, heavy moment before a strike of lightning.
With a gusted breath, Leo turned, and a belt jingled.
Amelia averted her gaze from his broad back, blood rising to her cheeks.
It was half humiliating, really, to be blushing at the mere sound of a belt buckle clinking.
No wonder men saw her and took off running in the other direction.
Middle schoolers had more poise than she did.
Leo spun around and spread his arms, a roguish grin holding up the corners of his lips. “Satisfied?”
Ugh. “Annoyed.”
His smile grew, as did the trembling in Amelia’s thighs.
Leo tugged his jacket sleeves and arranged his cuffs just so. He combed both hands through his hair, and the gently curled light-brown locks fell into the kind of perfect disarray that betrayed an expensive haircut.
Rings glinted on two fingers: the thumb of his right hand, and the index finger of his left. They were simple gold bands that shone in the low light of the room and drew attention to his hands. Beautiful hands for a beautiful man. He lifted his gaze to hers and arched a brow.
“Good enough,” Amelia grumped, even though the more truthful statement would be drop-dead gorgeous or positively edible.
“Do I get to learn your name now?” The gleam was back in his eyes.
Nerves gripped Amelia in a tight fist. Giving him even her name was handing over more power than was wise.
A man like Leo St. James would take one look at her and crush her vulnerable heart.
She felt the urge to protect herself, but Amelia was a rational being, and she knew it was only her name.
He’d learn it eventually. She forced the syllables out. “Amelia.”
“Amelia,” he repeated, like he was sipping fine wine and detecting all kinds of hidden notes in it. Touching a hand to his chest, he said, “Leo.”
“So I’ve heard,” she said, and something undefinable flitted across his expression. His smile widened, but his eyes grew shuttered.
Amelia frowned. Odd.
No time to figure it out. She had a wedding procession to lead, and she wasn’t letting Leo St. James out of her sight for a second until Emory and Maggie were husband and wife.
She reached out and grabbed Leo’s wrist, tugging him toward the room where the rest of the bridal party awaited, not trusting him to follow without physical encouragement.
Then he shifted, and his hand slipped against hers. She made to pull away, but he intertwined their fingers before she had the chance to escape.
He was… He was holding her hand.
It was a shock to the system, intimate in a way she hadn’t expected. That broad, warm palm pressed against hers. His long fingers curled and notched between her knuckles. The heat of it. The sheer size of it.
She paused halfway to the side door and stared at their joined hands. His golden tan against her pallid skin looked…wrong. Foreign, somehow.
It made her feel very, very hot.
He’s a notorious playboy who needs a girlfriend for a work retreat. She’s a loveless nerd who needs lessons in seduction.
What they absolutely do not need is to fall in love with each other…. Right?
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