Page 74 of One Hot Chase

He pushes away from the wall, sauntering over here with all the grace of a panther on the prowl. "Oh, I was there, love. Someone had to keep Mum from throttling Dad for suggesting that Margaret 'hold it in for just one more chukker.' "

I snort into my teacup, nearly spilling the contents down my front. "Chukker? Sounds like a drinking game."

Declan's eyes sparkle with mischief as he plops down next to me on the sofa, his thigh brushing against mine. The contact sends a jolt through my body that I desperately try to ignore. "Ronald Wilde has never left a match early, so he couldn't understand Julian's refusal to keep going. I managed to pry Father away from Julian so he could rush to his wife's side."

Julian rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "I'll have you know I handled that situation with the utmost grace and composure."

Margaret lets out an unladylike snort. "Oh yes, darling. Nothing says 'grace and composure' quite like shouting 'My wife's having a baby, you wanker!' while frantically waving a polo mallet in the air at our father."

I burst into laughter, picturing the scene. "I'm sure it was quite the spectacle."

"Oh, it was," Declan chimes in. "The entire crowd thought it was part of some elaborate halftime show. There were cheers and whoops."

I turn to him, eyebrows raised. "And I suppose you just stood there looking devastatingly handsome and completely unruffled?"

His lips curl into a slow, dangerous smile. "Naturally. Someone had to maintain their composure."

A doorbell rings elsewhere in the house.

Constance Wilde abruptly leaps out of her chair. "Come, Sabrina, we have a wonderful surprise for you."

"You didn't need to do anything special."

"Nonsense." She seizes my arm, politely yet forcefully pulling me off the sofa. "Declan, dear, will you please escort Sabrina?"

Declan and I exchange bemused glances as Constance practically drags us out of the room. I love how easily his hand finds the small of my back, guiding me through the hallway with a gentle pressure that sends tingles up my spine.

"Any idea what this is about?" I whisper, leaning in close enough to get a whiff of his enticing cologne. It's woodsy and intoxicating, and I have to resist the urge to bury my face in his neck.

"Not a clue," he murmurs back, his breath tickling my ear. "But knowing Mum, it's bound to be...interesting."

We reach the foyer just as the butler opens the massive oak door, revealing familiar faces, and my jaw drops. "Tabitha?"

"Surprise!" my sister squeals, launching herself at me with all the grace of an excited teenager.

I stagger backward, nearly toppling over as Tabitha's enthusiasm threatens to bowl us both over. Declan's steady hand on my back keeps me upright, and I'm torn between gratitude for his support and acute awareness of his touch.

"Tabby?" I gasp, returning her embrace with equal fervor. "What on earth are you doing here?"

She pulls back, blinking in confusion. "Did you really think I'd let you have all the fun in jolly old England without me?"

Before I can respond, a deep, accented voice chimes in. "Don't forget about me, love. I'm not just the chauffeur, you know."

I peer around Tabitha to see her fiancé, Spencer, standing in the doorway while wearing a grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat's. His brown hair is tousled, and his blue eyes are focused on Tabby.

"Spencer!" I exclaim, breaking away from Tabitha to give him a quick hug. "I can't believe you're both here. We weren't expecting you until next week."

"We couldn't very well let you gallivant around London on your own, could we?" Spencer says, his accent somehow more pronounced than I remember. "Someone's got to keep you out of trouble."

I roll my eyes, but can't keep the grin off my face. "I'll have you know I'm perfectly capable of staying out of trouble on my own, thank you very much."

"Is that so?" Declan's voice is low and teasing in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "And here I thought you were actively seeking it out."

I turn to face him, ready with a snappy retort, but the words die on my lips as I realize my parents are standing just behind Tabby and Spence. My mouth goes dry as I take in the sight of my parents, standing there like they've just stepped out of a time machine.

Mom, with her flowing tie-dye dress and silver-streaked hair twisted into an elaborate braid, beams at me with all the brilliance of the sun. Dad, sporting a blend of hippie chic and academic professor style---complete with elbow patches on his tweed jacket---offers a sheepish wave.

My eyes narrow on them. "Why are you two dressed like that? You haven't worn hippie chic since I was ten years old."

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