Page 44 of The Fiance Dilemma

“I told her she didn’t have to.” I bit my lip, musing over whether to admit I’d texted him before she offered. “That I had you,” I whispered. “That I’d already called you. And here we are.”

His brows met. In concentration or determination, I couldn’t know, because his thumb brushed my chin next, distracting me and sending a wave of awareness cascading down my body. It was strange that we’d had this conversation with his palm resting on the side of my neck, and my body had eased right into his touch. Now that peace had been broken by the way he was looking down at me. It was broken by the reminder that all that expanse of skin was a hair-thin distance from my hands. I wanted to reach out. And according to our rules, I could. Touching was fine. And I would have, if I was sure that wouldn’t make me a little selfish, or a bad liar. Because me not being affected if I set my palms on his arms right now? It didn’t seem possible.

I flexed my hands at my sides. Then asked, “What are we going to do about this?”

“Can I be honest?” Matthew asked.

I nodded my head, and he let out a little grunt. The sound hit me right in my belly.

“I’m talking real honest,” he insisted, head dipping lower, body coming even closer. My back hit the rack behind me, and he regained the distance. “Blunt. Do you think you can take that, Josie?”

“Yes,” I breathed out.

“If this were my hometown,” he said, words tickling my temple. His hands rose, leaving me and bracing on the rack at my back. “We’d ruffle your hair and come out of this closet pretending I’ve just fucked you against this shelf right here.”

Whoa.

I— My stomach dove right to my feet.

An intense wave of heat climbed up my body before swooshing back down immediately. Images, many of them, bombarded mymind. Of Matthew, hands on the backs of my thighs, rack rattling, me—

A shaky breath exploded out of me. “That seems… unnecessary.”

His chuckle was amused and dark. Sultry. He knew exactly what was crossing my mind. “Depends on who you ask,” he said. “We’re sneaking off, aren’t we? You’re my fiancée. I would want to make use of the opportunity. You said so yourself.”

I had. I really had. I was also envisioning it now. And my body was invested in the specifics. My mouth parted, and his eyes jumped to my lips before leaping back up. “I meant what are we going to do about my father. He’s getting here today. For all we know, he could be waiting outside when we come out.” I shook my head, slowly bringing my thoughts back to the real matter at hand. “I never thought he’d show up so soon.”Or at all,but I didn’t say that.

Matthew leaned back. To have a better look at me if I had to guess. I watched his smile dim but not disappear. “We could still ruffle your hair, and come out of here—”

“Be serious,” I told him with a soft pat to his chest. He snatched my wrist with his hand, and I swallowed at the soft contact of his fingers on my skin.

His voice dropped. “I’m always serious.”

“You’re really not,” I countered. “What are we going to do? He thinks we’re—” My voice cracked. “Organizing a wedding. What if he wants to getreallyinvolved. While here? What if he realizes we have no intention of getting married at all? Did you see that planner Bobbi sent us? It’s absolutely terrifying. And it’s filled with links and stuff, and who knows what else. What if Andrew wants us to actually organize a wedding?Now?”

Matthew’s words took a moment to come out, but when he finally spoke, they made my heart speed up. “Then we give him that.”

CHAPTER TEN

Andrew Underwood didn’t show up in Green Oak alone.

He’d arrived with a journalist named Willa Wang, who had done Andrew’s piece forTime,and who dressed in a range of beiges and carried a little leather notepad she’d been tapping her pen on for the last ten minutes.

She was the woman who called me amisstepin a renowned magazine.

Andrew Underwood was also late. To a meeting he’d set up.

But he belonged to a world where certain things couldn’t wait. That had to be why the call he was taking in the room next to the living area in the elegant house he was renting outside Green Oak was more important than the four people waiting.

I fidgeted with my fingers in my lap, trying to ignore the sound of both Bobbi’s nails tipping and tapping away at her phone, and Willa’s pen as it rapped against her notepad. I wondered if she actually scribbled in it or if it was just for show. Maybe it was some kind of trick journalists used to intimidate the truth out of theirsubjects. Although that sounded more like an interrogation and not thecasual chatBobbi had mentioned we were having whenever Andrew got here.

Warmth enveloped my hand, making my breath hitch. Matthew. Obviously. I turned my head, brown eyes meeting mine from his spot beside me on the burgundy couch. He held my gaze, a question in his eyes.

Sorry,I mouthed, deciding he was referring to the fidgeting.

He frowned and shook his head slightly, a soft smile parting his face. He had such a handsome smile. My shoulders eased slightly. “You look beautiful in this dress.” His gaze dipped briefly. “Is this tulle?”

“It is,” I admitted. My face was flaming. I didn’t even know why, just that apparently I wasn’t in control of simple bodily functions when this man called me beautiful. “And you… look beautiful too.” Matthew’s brows arched, then a smirk took shape. I lowered my voice a little. “But not too beautiful. You’re presentable. The right amount of attractive. And I actually prefer you in your glasses.”

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