Page 7 of Merry Little Wedding

“You’re ascientist?” he asks, surprised.

I laugh about it. “We have alotto catch up on if we’re going to make this love-thing believable. Anyway I can’t exactly move to someplace like Chicago. I need to be close to the ocean.”

“That’s an excellent reason.” Boone nods. “Let’s go with that.”

“You mean, the truth?” I tease.

“I know, right. That’s so unlike us.”

Us.Why does it feel so good when he says that?

“My turn to ask a question,” Boone says.

“All right. Shoot.”

“The fake bachelorette party thing…”Knew this was coming. “Why?”

“That is a fair question…” And so, I answer it truthfully. That I have no fucking clue. It was just an idea that came to us. We were bored.Iwas bored. My love life is boring. “You think I’m totally lame,” I say, observing Boone’s blank expression. What thought or emotion is he schooling right now?

“No. I just think… Hmm.”

“Don’t do that. Say it,” I say.

“I think we should remedy that,” he says. His sterling eyes hold onto mine. “Your love life should not be boring.”

“Oh?” I sip my coffee, thoughtfully, my heart doing bad aerobics in my chest. I can’t tell if his interest in me is genuine or… “How do you propose we do that?”

“For starters, we should kiss.”

“We did that already. We’re good.”

“No. You were tipsy.”

“I only had two drinks!”

“I am aware.” Boone smirks. “We have to try it again sober. Have to make sure it looks believable. Like we’ve been kissing for some time.”

“A kiss is a kiss,” I argue.

“We’ll see about that,” he counters, his voice turning down a notch toward sultry, sexy, dangerous,tempting. “C’mere.”

“You mean right now?”

“Yes, right now, while we still have the chance to practice…without an audience.”

“But I have coffee breath.”

“That’s what that’s for.” He points to the peppermint, half of it still uneaten. Oh Emily, Emily. Homegirl’s thought of everything, hasn’t she?

One look at Boone’s lips and I lean in across the aisle, unable to resist the temptation presented to me. I keep telling myself this is fake, it’s play pretend, but everything about it feels kinda…real. Including how my whole world spins in a dizzying circle when our lips connect. It’s gentle, slow. A kiss that tests the waters. Boone pulls back. Our gazes latch.

Words and breath are trapped in my throat. He’s right, that did feel different than our kiss last night. This time I’m stone-cold sober and fully aware there are going to be more kisses, fully aware of how eager I am for that to happen.

Boone’s hooded eyes fall to my lips. Where his just were. He’s thinking things too. He drags that stare back up to mine at the same slow, sinuous pace that his hand slides up my cheek and goes into my hair. A curl of heat below my belly button twists lower, lower, blasting my core and between my thighs.

This time our mouths collide. His hungry groan begs entry, coaxing my mouth open wide, our tongues licking, breaths exchanging, heartbeats up to our eyeballs.

He pulls back again with a hard swallow. Opening his eyes slow like it’s quite the challenging feat, Boone says, “You taste like peppermint.” He licks his lips.

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