Twice Smitten (A Modern Fairy Tale) (3 page)

“Huh.” He considered the last one and asked as if he didn’t know. “Still an ad executive?”

She blinked. “Accounts. Yes.”

“Isn’t that what you do? How many men have suffered a heart attack using some of your clients’ products?”

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know what I do?”

He scoffed. “You latch onto that fact?”

“What you’re saying about my job is deflecting and absolutely irrelevant.”

But her eyes had widened with guilt. Drew tutted. “Irrelevant because you decided to play catch in your glass house. Let’s end this line of arguing because you’ll be insensitive just to spite me.”

She parted her lips to speak, and he quieted her with a finger. Her mouth was warm and soft and much more kissable than Sasha’s could ever be to him. With regret Drew placed his hand down at his side.

“So your next comment wasn’t going to be along the lines of the inability to get it up doesn’t ruin anyone’s life?” He did his best imitation of her self righteous tone. “Or, only you would think not being able to have sex is the closest thing to death.” He raised his brows in question.

She licked her lips. “I wasn’t going to say something insensitive about men with erectile dysfunction.”

“No?” he asked in disbelief.

“I was going to call you a man-whore because you were pissing me off.”

“A man-whore? New one. Think I like it.” He gestured to the front with his chin, fighting the smile. “What’s your poison? I’ll get it for you and bring it to your table.”

“Don’t you have a speech you’re supposed to make sometime soon? And aren’t you supposed to sit in the front with the rest of the bridal party?”

“That’s the rumor.” The line dwindled again, bringing them closer. “But I would rather sit with three beautiful women vying for my charm.”

She pointed to her friends. “Engaged. Off limits.” She pointed to herself. “No way in hell. Though this exchange has been extremely amusing.”

“Something we can agree on, but you are forgetting one thing.” He waited.

She huffed. “And that is?”

“The only thing keeping the security guards from tossing you out on your nice tush is me. You’re my date remember?” Her lush lips worked to form words. He cut her off. “Now, now. Be nice and I won’t hit on your friends.” He glanced to his right where Nadine had her gaze fixed on them. “And look like you adore me. We’re being watched.”

She cursed under her breath, but slid closer to him, tossing a tight smile in Nadine’s direction. The deep musk of her perfume saturated his senses for a moment. He sighed with contentment. He had to give it to his cousin and the new wife. This would be the best damn wedding reception ever.

Chapter Three

Drew could figure out a way to get the four drinks to the table. Abigail left him in the line to warn her friends. They straightened when she plopped into her chair and snapped up a napkin to wipe her lips.

“Here’s the thing,” she said. “He’s supposed to be my date for this shindig. We’ll play nice when someone else is around, but if it’s only us, all bets are off.” She let out an irritated breath. “I should be getting an Oscar for this.”

“Wow,” Sasha said.

Emma’s gaze widened. “What exactly did he do in two minutes to get that sort of passion?”

“Vehemence.” Abigail tossed down the napkin, but she could still taste Drew’s finger. His skin was exactly what she imagined debauchery would taste like—wanton and addictive. “There’s a difference, but he had the nerve to say my work ruins lives. Male enhancement drugs are one of the fastest growing industries. And it’s not my only client. And I so wanted the St. Jude’s account. Marcus had a stellar record and he came to me for help.” She stopped the flow of speech. “Oh, gawd. I’m ranting.”

She sought Drew out to confirm he was the sod she knew him to be. He’d propped his arms up on the bar, and flirted with a female server. “He’s so not worth a rant. And I told him I would break off his arm if he so much as touches you.” She directed her comment at Sasha.

“He’s cute.” Sasha shrugged. “He can flirt with me.”

Abigail could only blink at her friend for a moment. “Cute?”

“He’s got those dreamy eyes. Nice arms and pecs. A ladies man…I’ll bet money he has very strong legs. He could be a male model that poses for nude portraits. Just my type.”

“The type you’re swearing off. Why are you swearing them off?” Abigail leaned forward intent on getting her point across.

Sasha laughed. “I did swear them off, but my vow of celibacy doesn’t mean I can’t flirt.”

Abigail answered the question for her friend. “Because they’re usually no good.”

Emma cleared her throat. “If you’re looking for a longtime mate.” She spread her hands over the table. “But if you haven’t had your itch scratched in quite awhile, he’s the perfect guy. No hard feelings when you kick him out your bed. He’s probably thinking of a way to head for the hills anyway.”

Sometimes she was slow on the uptake. Apparently it was one of those times. “I can see straight through you two. Not going to happen.”

“Took you awhile,” Emma said with a smile. “Had to be the earlier rant slowing you down.”

Abigail picked up and then tossed the napkin at her friend. Shaking her head, she turned to the front of the room. They’d been banished to the straggler/pariah table closer to the exit than the bathrooms. Since it was only the three of them, Abigail could guess they’d only invited close family and friends. Knowing Nadine, she’d probably specifically had the table set up for them, but really who could blame the woman? Her own mother’s reaction to the situation would have been to pull out a switch blade and pray for forgiveness later.

“What a day,” she said.

“It’s only getting started, Sweetheart.” Drew slid into the seat beside her. A quiet, male server followed him with a tray of their drinks. Drew moved to tip the man, but the wait staff shook his head and left. “So, has she told you of all my sterling qualities yet?”

“No.” Emma took a sip of her drink to try to cover the smile. “She was too busy…giving us a background.”

“All lies.” He smiled. “What would you like to know?”

“What do you do?” Sasha played with the rim of her glass, a flirtatious light in her gaze.

“I sell stuff and get paid an ungodly amount of money doing it.” He managed to make lounging look easy in the stiff-backed chair.

“Your speech,” Abigail reminded him in hopes it would make him look less delectable.

She could see why women fell at his feet. His profile suckered her in. The strong jawline. The thick brows and lips. He had the type of composition that would make an ad exec, who primarily sold products to women, weep at the perfection of his face.

Drew tapped his head. “It’s ready to go. Has been since Greg asked me to be his best man.”

Surprise and curiosity forced her to lean closer to him. “Really? What’s in the speech?”

“Keggers, strippers,” Drew said easily. “You know, the usual.”

Sasha pursed her lips. “You and Greg have been close all your life?”

“My best pick-up buddy. Might have to find a new one now since he’s got hitched.”

“Greg never went trolling for dates.” Abigail lifted her chin.

“Really?” The lazy smile crept over his mouth. “How’d you guys meet again?”

She knew he was baiting her because he’d been there. And, dammit, she couldn’t help but bite. “A book signing.”

He pointed at her with his drink. “A female poet’s book signing.”

“And that means what?” Abigail huffed.

Drew sighed and exasperation flitted across his face for a moment. She could always see past his bluster. Abigail stifled the urge to smile, because she knew his secret. Drew was definitely a playboy, but he played up the role with relish.

He waited a beat and then answered, “Two grown men, who don’t even own a poetry book, at an event where there will be lots of women? Come on now. If that’s not a definition of trolling, I don’t know what is.” He nodded his head sagely. “Ah, you thought those types of things only happen at the grocery store or night clubs.”

Abigail wavered, because his eyes had filled with something so deep and warm the expression made her mouth go dry. A sip of her bourbon burned down her throat and she welcomed the sting. “I don’t believe it.”

“Did he ever read another poetry book? Did he even read from the one he bought that day?”

She scowled at him now, because he had a point. Hell must have been cold. “Why are you telling me this? Would your cousin like that you’re maligning his character?”

Drew shrugged. “A two-dollar word for what most men do.”

“And what is it most men do?”

Again, she’d leaned toward him. Drew had an undeniable magnetism. It coaxed women like lambs to a slaughter. She didn’t know if it was better or worse that he never lied about looking for a good time and only a good time. Through no fault of his own, women kept trying to drape wedding bells around his neck.

She stopped herself. Embittered thinking would bring her no closer to getting rid of him. Neither would it staunch the sideways thoughts of him looking downright yummy. His pose relaxed and not forced. The laughter in his brown eyes. Delish. He’d always been this way around her, as though he simply liked her company. And that, if nothing else, was sexy and had to be why she kept gravitating into his space.

“The secret to men is they’re always trying to impress a woman,” Drew said. “Or man, if that’s who he is. It’s in our very being. If it means making a woman believe we’re into poetry, so be it.”

“And the top search on the Internet is love,” Abigail scoffed.

“Actually it is. Just ask Oprah.”

Abigail finished her drink instead. What comeback did she have to a man who had supposedly watched Oprah? When she glanced at her friends, for some kind of confirmation she was right, both them looked enraptured by the exchange.

Dammit. “You can—”

“So,” Sasha said with a smile. “Tell us more.”

“Do,” Emma encouraged.

Her friends grilled him, in a very subtle way, extending his stay at their table. Ten minutes in, both of them were charmed. She couldn’t blame them, not really. He flirted easily and with a sincerity founded in loving women. Plain and simple. Therein lie the problem. If he could, Drew would love all women at the same time. He might even create a schedule and would be professional enough not to hand out name tags.

The last thought made her chuckle. He turned to the soft noise. His leg brushed hers, sending a tingle up the limb. “So, you’ve decided to join in the conversation, Grumpy Face?”

She shot a quick glance toward Sasha. Pouty lips. Check. The unmistakable lean forward to show the right amount of cleavage. Check. Dammit. “Let’s dance.”

Not an ounce of surprise crossed his face, only smugness. Had this been his plan all along? No, because that didn’t make any sense. Drew didn’t find her attractive. He was more like an annoying brother, if one put aside the illegal-in-fifty-states thoughts she had about him.

“My pleasure.” He nodded both to Emma and Sasha and took her onto the dance floor.

Drew wasted no time, now with an excuse, to plaster himself against her. His fingertips brushed along the crook of her arm, making Abigail uber-aware of every inch of him. At some point, he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The warmth of his arm encircled her waist, low enough to brush her tailbone when they swayed. Like a wallflower who had been asked by the cutest guy in the room to dance, her stomach filled with nerves.

Being so close, she felt a physical pull to him. An actual ache to have him closer so their bodies aligned just right. It wasn’t that long ago that she had a steady live-in boyfriend. She hadn’t reached the point where she felt like a cat in heat. There had been other men who caught her eye, but none of them created this ball of tension filled with want and need.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Drew said.

He’d pay a million dollars for the one crossing her mind. “I’m imagining all the ways I’m going to torture you.”

Drew tied up…the image gave her a thrill that had everything to do with—Abigail shook her head. This line of thinking had to be the aftermath of seeing Greg get married. Hollywood had based an entire movie genre on the single woman phenomenon with, of course, a junior high school humor. She was feeling a little raw and was a tad too vulnerable. Wanting to snuggle closer to the man in front of her was proof enough.

Abigail ignored how right it felt to have the heat of him at her front. A little breathless, she said, “So, what’s your end game? You have one.”

“I do.” He did a quick shuffle between dancers, and she followed his lead with ease.

She mentally added breaking his legs to the list of torture. “Oh, my.” She infused a heavier breathless tone. “You’re a fine dancer. I’m all atwitter.”

His eyes alighted with humor. “Will you give me your handkerchief as a token of your affection?” She narrowed her gaze and he laughed. “Now, now. Ladies don’t swear.”

“I’m not a lady.”

“Beg to differ,” he said.

“Your end game?”

The arm alongside her waist slid up and then down her back, but it was his gaze that dragged her into the trap. There was no artifice in his eyes. There was simply want so deep and wide she lost herself in the emotion. The gaze held no charm, but it froze her in place. Abigail wondered what would happen if she lifted her chin and parted her lips. He’d kiss her, and, in that moment, it would feel right.

“I simply wanted to touch you,” Drew spoke softly.

The words almost did her in. She felt a subtle give in her frame. Her nipples puckered, and she tilted her head up without meaning to. This close, she felt the same pulsating need coursing through him too. If this were a game, he was playing for keeps. Fear lanced through her gut.

“You want me to believe you’re not all smiles and charm, Drew.” Huskiness threaded through her voice.

Irritation flashed in his gaze. She held on to his reaction for dear life. “These women you string along wouldn’t salivate over you the way they do without the façade, but then you show them something more. May not be on purpose. Just glimpses every now and then, but you do. It’s all a ploy.” Though she said it to him, the words were for herself. “So why should I believe this is real? It’s the timing and place. It’s you trying to seduce me like you do with every woman with a pulse.”