The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy) Page 9

  “I suppose you’ve guessed by now,” Alex said.

  She paused with her foot on the bottom stair to her cabin. The wind battered the wood chimes hanging from the cabin’s overhanging roof, and she had to shove aside her vision of steaming water for a moment to realize what he was talking about.

  She had to appreciate his direct approach. Fawn had tried to complicate things, but it defeated the benefits of getting friends involved. She turned to him and smiled. “That we’re interested in each other?”

  He laughed softly. “Nicely put.”

  Shoving her numb fingers deeper into her jeans pockets, Lucy tried to twinkle, but really, her ass was ice. “I enjoyed our hike.”

  “How about dinner?” He looked at his watch. “After the tree ceremony. Unless that’s too early?”

  Lucy only had a vague memory about a tree ceremony being on the schedule that afternoon. Something Fawn had set up. “No, that’s fine.”

  “That gives us time to catch the movie afterward. It’s an old film about modern life being out of balance. The score’s by Philip Glass—”

  “Koyaanisqatsi,” she said. “Where? In the lodge?”

  He looked pleased with her again. “No, they’ve got a separate building with a stage and seating for that sort of thing. Live music on Thursday night, I hear.”

  “Oh, you know, I’m much more into music than a movie. Let’s plan on dinner tonight though, after the tree thing.”

  “Great. Now get inside—I can see you’re freezing.” He hesitated. Then, still smiling, leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. His lips were cool and light, nothing sloppy.

  She smiled and slipped through the door, grateful he was already turning to walk away.

  Damn.

  He was just fine.

  She’d have to try harder.

  “Hey, welcome back!” Fawn stood on the bed wearing a gray knit dress that skimmed her knees, staring at the open armoire. “The only mirror in the entire cabin is in there. Totally annoying. Too small and too high.” She bounced down to the floor and pulled the dress over her head.

  Lucy kicked off her boots, peeled off her jacket, and walked past her to the bathroom. “It’s beautiful here, Fawn, but I admit I’m having longing thoughts for a tropical paradise.” She slipped out of her jeans and folded them over a chair, noticing they were soaked up to the knees.

  Fawn frowned. “What happened to you? You’ve got mud on your face, and not the expensive kind.”

  “I was a little too shrimpy to make it over that river without getting wet.”

  “What happened?”

  “The stepping stones are for long-legged folk such as yourself. I fell in. Got wet, it was cold, we had to come back.”

  She put her hands on her naked hips, eyebrows wiggling. “We?”

  “Me and Alex.”

  Fawn put her hand over her mouth as though trying to hide her tell-all grin of triumph. “How was it?”

  “Fine, but freezing. I’m going to use that hot tub now.” Peeking out the rear door window at the vinyl-covered spa on the private wood deck, she unhooked her bra and slipped off her underwear.

  “Would you mind putting on a bathing suit? I’ve got Huntley coming over here in a few minutes to… talk.”

  Lucy slipped on a white terrycloth robe that fell to her ankles. “Can’t you talk in his cabin?”

  “No, no, we really are just going to talk. His father’s watching some game because Huntley’s the only one with a TV in his cabin and Huntley Junior—oh crap, I’m going to have to stop calling him that, but then what am I going to call him? Mr. Sterling is so formal. Huntley is my Huntley, you know?” Fawn grabbed fistfuls of her hair. “They just got here, his parents, a whole day earlier than we thought. So I’m kind of freaking out.”

  “That’s why you’re having a wardrobe crisis?”

  “Exactly.” Fawn reached into the armoire and pulled out a white blouse and black slacks. “What do you think? I want to look serious, you know, not like some bimbo.”

  “That kind of says ‘catering.’”

  “Even with a bright scarf? Yeah, you’re right.” She shoved them back on the bar, pulled out a red pantsuit. “How about this?”

  Lucy bit her lip and peeked outside at the spa. Getting her swimsuit out of a drawer, she said, “Look, Fawn, I’m not really the one to ask, you know? I’m sure Krista would love—”

  “I should call her, but I don’t have time.” She pushed her blond hair out of her eyes. “Shit. I need to be put together for this.”

  “You always look beautiful, Fawn. And that’s the truth.”

  “No, I mean to talk to Huntley. I’m a wreck and I need to be calm. I so wish the yoga vibe lasted longer.”

  Lucy put on her black one-piece Speedo, gearing up her courage to ask Fawn if she feared Huntley might get cold feet around his parents, when the door suddenly banged open and the handsome groom stepped inside.

  “Honey, I’m home!” he cried, then saw Fawn wasn’t alone. “Oh, hey there, Lucy. Miles was just asking about you. Did you get your laptop?”

  She looked around the room, saw it on the little desk by her bed. “Yeah, it’s right there.”

  “He wanted to make sure you got it. Guess you went for a little walk with somebody this morning?” Huntley strode over and punched her gently on the shoulder.

  Lucy had to smile. “I did. Didn’t you get the memo?”

  He shifted his happy gaze to Fawn. “Not yet.”

  “I’ll let you get to it, then.” Tugging her swimsuit up, Lucy opened the door to her hot aquatic sanctuary and stepped outside. Surrounded with a tall wood fence and shielded by the cabin, the deck wasn’t very cold at all. Actually, she thought, inhaling deeply, it was quite pleasant. Lavender, sage, something white and floppy that might be jasmine. Wonderful.

  She flipped back the cover and sank into the bubbling water.

  Just as she was about to close her eyes, Fawn appeared. “Just so you know, we’re going for a walk, so you can get naked if you want. We’ll go straight from there to the tree ceremony.”

  Lucy noticed she’d settled on khakis and a sweater. With her hair back in a tight ponytail and the pinched look around her mouth, Fawn looked like the librarian in a porno who was about to take it in the ass. “Are you going to be all right? Is he giving you any reason to worry about… anything?”

  “No, no—” Fawn glanced behind her. “A little. But we’re talking about it.”

  “Okay. Good luck. If there’s anything—”

  “No, of course not. And wasn’t he sweet to ask about your laptop? In the middle of all this garbage with his parents, he remembers stuff like that. Anyway, got to go. See you at the tree. Wear something comfy. It’s on the map.”

  And she was gone.

  Lucy sank back into the water, uneasy about her friend and her choice of husband but optimistic she could work it out. Fawn wasn’t the type to give up.

  Alex’s comments about the Sterling family ran through her brain. All that money, all those connections—just like Miles. She thought about the big, quiet man in his sweatshirt and sneakers and just couldn’t picture him in some New England prep school. In fact, she had trouble imagining how he became Huntley’s friend, let alone his best man.

  She sank deeper into the water and let the bubbles touch her nose. The jets pounded the tension out of her shoulder blades. Exhaling with delight, she reflected that the last time she’d been in a hot tub she’d asked her friends to find her a husband. Ergo the freezing hike with Alex.

  What if they’d tried to set her up with Miles instead?

  She realized she was still sitting in her bathing suit. After a moment, she peeled it off and slung it onto a chair next to the spa.

  Much better. She flipped over onto her stomach and folded her arms over the edge, rested her cheek on her hands. The jets kneaded water into her chest and down her stomach while her legs floated up behind her. She felt the cold air on her bare bottom and smile
d, finally enjoying her day.

  It was nice of Miles to bring the laptop back to her cabin. She’d been startled when Alex came up right behind her while she worked on her personal stuff. She hadn’t even had the chance to quit the file.

  She lifted her head and looked at the back door of her cabin, alert and wondering, then rested back down. No, he would never open somebody else’s computer—

  But what if he was desperate to get online for a few minutes? It might not seem like a big deal to pop up the lid and check the news, like turning on the TV.

  She crawled out of the spa, cursing herself, but unable to rest until she closed out the file. It would be embarrassing if Fawn were to see it too—hell, anybody. She knew she was a little OCD sometimes but it was her own business and she wasn’t hurting anybody.

  Dripping wet, she slipped on the robe and jogged across the floor of the cabin to the desk. Just one little CTRL-Q and she could get back in the water.

  She wiped her hand, lifted the lid, and felt the blood drain down to the damp jute rug at her feet.

  * * *

  She wore her heaviest black boots to kick his balls through his teeth.

  BamBamBam. Hands on her hips, Lucy waited for him to answer his door, hot, mortified rage stiffening her spine.

  The door opened a crack, and a gray-blue eye peered out. He didn’t seem surprised to see her.

  “Open up, you coward,” Lucy said.

  Laugh lines appeared. The door started to close.

  She flung herself against it. “Don’t you dare—”

  The door swung open and she lurched inside. A strong hand found her elbow to steady her, then released her before she could shake it off.

  “I suppose I should apologize right now and save us some time,” Miles said.

  Chest still heaving with her anger and the run over to his cabin, Lucy braced both her legs as though muscle tension could make her taller and glared up at him. “You were totally out of line.”

  He looked at her for a minute, not smiling anymore, and sat down on a white slipcovered sofa near the front windows. “You’re right. Will you sit?”

  Her anger banged around her chest like a bee trapped in a car. The way he was looking at her, passive and mildly apologetic—that wasn’t enough, damn it. A few hours ago he’d invaded her privacy and—and—violated it. Her most vulnerable thoughts, unwillingly exposed, but then he had to take it a step further and—and—mock her. He must have spent an hour writing up that spreadsheet.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” she said through her teeth.

  “You’re right.” He got up and went over to the cabinet above the mini-fridge. “Organic Oreos?” He saw the look on her face, shook his head, and squatted down to the fridge. “Something stronger.”

  “How dare you?” Her voice had lost too much of its anger. To her annoyance, she almost sounded hurt.

  “It was a bad thing to do.” He held out a bottle of Sam Adams. “There’s no excuse. I tried to go back and undo it but Fawn was in your cabin and I didn’t want to ask Huntley for help. I figured I would just make things worse if I confided in anybody what I’d done.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re right to be angry. I was an asshole.”

  She glared at him, momentarily robbed of her righteousness. Finally she grabbed the beer and flung herself down on the sofa. The bottle was cold in her hand, and hard, and she had a vision of hitting him over the head with it. Instead she drank and let her pulse settle. She had to admit to herself she was grateful he hadn’t shared his mockery with Huntley. She’d been imagining the two of them laughing at her. Then Alex might hear about it and that would ruin everything.

  She finished the beer, aware that he was standing there, watching her, looking like he had all the time in the world. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, noting her buzz, and he took the empty bottle from her.

  “Who are you to give romantic advice, anyway?” She slumped back into the couch and put her feet, boots and all, on the coffee table.

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘romantic.’” The corner of his mouth twitched, but he suppressed it, got two more beers and handed her one.

  “You’re not allowed to call it anything at all.” She took the second beer and nestled it on her stomach, giving him the evil eye as he sat down on the sofa next to her. It was only two cushions wide and he had to knock pillows onto the floor and scrunch himself over to the opposite arm to make room for his frame.

  Sighing, he sipped his beer and regarded her muddy boots on the table. “How was your hike?”

  “Lovely,” she said. “Why did you do it?”

  He flinched. “I’m not sure. Moment of weakness. Cynical about the wedding. Bitter about my ex. Forgot we weren’t on those kind of terms.”

  “We barely know each other.”

  “My point.”

  She took a sip of her beer and moved her boots to the floor, regretting the clump of mud she’d left on Cottage Living and the footprints on the bamboo floor. She bent over to take off the boots, then settled back in the sofa with her beer. “I wasn’t entirely serious, you know, about my numbering. But you had no right—”

  “Yes, yes, we’ve established that. But answer me this, since when are aquariums more important than—” He looked down at his beer. “No, forget it, I shouldn’t say anything. But for the record, I never would have done anything if it hadn’t been for the aquarium thing.”

  “It was very lightly weighted in my calculations,” she said.

  Mid-sip, he choked on his beer, caught his breath, and shook his head. “Not as lightly as tongue.”

  Not a cheap drunk, Lucy chugged the rest of the beer and stood up, triumphantly steady on her feet. “I’m going to kick your ass now.” She glanced at her black socks. “After I put my boots back on.”

  His gray eyes went wide. He had great cheekbones, a sensual mouth, and a hint of five-o-clock shadow, and she realized for the first time how good-looking he was. When he was standing up she’d been too far away to get a good look at him. But now, displayed before her in arm’s reach, she got a very thorough look.

  Neither of them spoke for a long moment, and she noticed absently that she could see the pulse in his throat, the way his chest rose and fell with his breathing.

  Slowly, he leaned forward, set his bottle on the table, and held out his hand.

  She stared at it. “You want to shake before I beat you up?”

  A grin flashed across his face before he leaned forward and pulled her down into his lap.

  Stunned, she sat frozen on the tops of his knees and gaped at him. She held herself as upright as possible, ignoring the heat pooling low in her belly, how her breath was coming tight and fast.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. She felt the skin of her palm tingle where it touched his, felt the warmth of his thighs through his jeans.

  After a long moment, she let herself slide down his legs into the valley of his body. She could feel the fly of his jeans under her bottom. His chest was hard and broad against her arm, and her fingers twitched, wanting to stroke him.

  “Lucy,” he said, his rough, low voice sending electricity down her spine. “I’m going to kiss you, all right?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then you can kick my ass all you want.”

  “You bet I will,” she said, slipping her hand behind his strong neck and pulling him down to her mouth.

  Chapter 9

  IN THE LIMITED HISTORY OF her life, Lucy had never kissed anyone the way she kissed him. She did it because she was angry and because she was hurt, because he had apologized and because he had warm, hard thighs.

  But the second he cupped her jaw with his big hands and tilted her head to take the kiss deeper, she forgot everything except the soft pleasure of his mouth. She felt one hand slide behind her neck, fingers warm, then trail down over the bump of her bra strap into the small of her back and pull her closer.

  She wrigg
led sideways until her chest was twisted against his and she was lifting her leg over his lap to straddle him. God, he was big. She knelt on either side of him, pressed her pelvis into his stomach, kissed him some more. She wanted him to lift the back of her shirt and touch her. She wanted to feel skin on skin. Her own hands left his face and explored down over his broad chest, amazed at the sheer scale of him.

  He kept kissing her, nibbling, licking, slowly and gently. It had been months since she’d been with a man. The smell, the stubble-roughness, the hardness. He wore a thick sweatshirt that bunched up around his waist between them, preventing her from finding out if his chest was hairy or smooth. She hungered for the feel of his warmth under her fingers, and all the while she kissed him, she shoved everything else out of her mind.

  He trailed his mouth across her cheek to her ear. “Beats… aquariums,” he rasped.

  Her hands, which had been making their way under the bottom ribbing of his sweatshirt, froze on his stomach. The haze in her mind cleared and she opened her eyes. He was nibbling lightly on her ear, which was almost enough to send her back into mindlessness, but then she realized consciously how relatively motionless he was under her onslaught. His hands hadn’t moved from their firm grip on her hips, and his posture—leaned backward against the sofa with his legs kicking forward—was that of a man under attack.

  She jerked her hands out from under his sweatshirt and tried to stand up, but she was trapped between his legs and his chest and he wasn’t letting go.

  “I’m an idiot,” he said, bending forward to nuzzle her collarbone. “Forget I said that.”

  She broke his hold on her and flung herself onto the floor, her breath coming fast. Desperate to get away, she stumbled once before she got to her feet and hopped to the other side of the small table. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

  He gave her a sad smile. “Why not?”

  “All right. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Because it wasn’t what you planned?”

  All the anger flowed back into her like water into a glass. “Exactly. You are not in my plans.”