Page 5 of Baiting His Bride

“But,” I breathe, dragging my attention back to my card as I shift in my chair, “we’re just playing for fun, right?”

“And bragging rights,” he admits, with a cocky lift of his shoulder.

I didn’t rank top of my class at Wharton and work my way up to Director of Public Relations for a billion-dollar nano-technology firm without a sliver of a competitive streak. Something this astute man must realize.

“You’re not going to let me win, are you? Just so you can suggest another game for double-or-nothing and then raise the stakes?”

It’s a beat before Carson chuckles and leans back, regarding me closely with a playful smile. “I hadn’t thought about that, but now that you mention it, let’s play for setting aside that pesky business of being PR and press, just for this weekend.”

“You mean ignoring who we are?”

“I didn’t say that,” he insists. “I’m sure there are a million facets of your personality that have nothing to do with AV Industries.”

I wish it were true, but it’s not. Not that it bothers me. For a long time, I’ve prioritized my career above everything else in my life, and other than being thirty and single, without a steady boyfriend in the past five plus years, I don’t regret my choices. But I’m not about to admit to him I’m a one-trick pony.

“Fine,” I say, lifting my chin.

“Fine?” He seems surprised, but thrilled. “Well, then, Mallory. Nice to meet you. I’m Carson. I’m a Sagittarius, who’s into cross fit, despises deep-dish pizza, and is, not surprisingly, a diehard Cubs fan. Oh, and I can’t play the ukulele to save my life, despite six months’ of lessons. What about you?”

I fight back a smile as the toasts begin and reach for my glass of wine. “You didn’t win yet, you know?” I murmur, steadfastly ignoring the flutter in my belly that’s certainly thanks to drinking on an empty stomach, not the man at my side.

But I can't help but wonder if maybe I don’t know everything I need to know about Carson Bennett, after all.

Carson

Every word on my card was crossed out within the first two speeches while Mallory’s sits, forgotten, with three words remaining as the salad is served. She brushed off the loss when I teased her about my prowess at wedding toasts, but something in her terse dismissal raised a red flag. It wasn’t the fact she lost, although there was frustration in her eyes at that.

No, this was wedding related. But I dropped the subject immediately, her frown cinching my chest tighter than a boa constrictor around its prey. I shook off the bewildering sensation and instead focused on earning back that smile. Which I did with some shameless flirtation and genuine compliments.

The conversation has flowed easily since then, and for a few minutes, as we devoured truffled risotto with sauteed mushrooms and seared salmon with lemon garlic butter sauce, the filet melting on my tongue, I nearly forgot my goal of seducing this knockout. Her company alone has been so pleasurable.

But now that the main course is being cleared, and we’ve both had a few drinks, I’m beginning to regret earning back that smile. Because it’s quicksand. The more she flashes it at me, the more I want to see it.

Although I won our little bet, and she agreed to be our non-work selves this weekend, she’s still trying to keep things professional between us, still trying to keep me at arm’s length. Good thing I’m a patient man. Just ask my grandfather, Carson Bennett, Sr., who’s been clinging to his position as Chairman of Bennett Media Group for years, even though he admits I’m more than ready to step into his role.

“Care for a walk down by the lake?” I ask, brushing my knuckles across the bare skin of her thigh as she checks her phone for the tenth time.

She sets it face down, and her knees press together, but she flicks me a glance. “I’m pretty sure Kelsie and Sawyer still have to pass out those gifts.”

“Gifts?” I follow the dip of her chin to a tableful of gift bags, set off to one side of the patio.

“And I’m holding out for dessert,” she adds, taking a sip of water. “I heard the strawberry torte here is to die for.”

I know something else I’d die for, right about now.

And it’s not my usual goal when it comes to a woman, although I have that in mind, too. But, for some reason, I want to learn more about Mallory. Not what’s made her the poised, articulate, and successful woman she is, but what she loves and why. It’s not my customary mode of operations, but with her, it’s top priority.

But before I can persuade her I have innocent intentions and that slipping away with me is worth a missed slice of strawberry cake, another fork clinks on a glass. This time, it’s Sawyer, with Kelsie at his side and a stack of gifts on the table in front of them, commanding everyone’s attention.

“Told you,” Mallory whispers, turning to face them.

Her triumphant smile is my undoing. I shift, too, because it’s the only way to ease the pressure in my shorts. Plus, it allows me to take advantage of her position and lay my arm across the back of her chair, grazing her shoulder back and forth with my thumb. She shivers but doesn’t move out of reach. Somehow, I feel like the victor even though I’m not in command of whatever this is between us as I follow her gaze to the bride and groom.

Alternating back and forth, the happy couple acknowledge each of their friends and family standing up for them in the wedding party and present a thoughtful, personalized gift. When it’s our turn, Kelsie and Sawyer call us up. I escort Mallory with a hand skating over her low back.

Kelsie begins, and I step back to allow Mallory the spotlight.

“Mallory is one of the most brilliant and composed, loyal, and dependable people I’ve ever met,” Kelsie exclaims as she pulls in her bridesmaid for a side hug. “She’s an amazing friend who’s always been there for me and countless of our sisters. She’s always ready with a willing ear to listen to our man drama or our wedding-planning debates, even though she’s been too busy killing it in corporate America to have her own boyfriend to report on.”

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