Page 32 of When You Are Mine

“I’m not settling down any time soon.”

“That’s not how Sofie tells it.” Her laugh told him how his face must look. “Would it really be so bad to marry a supermodel?”

“Look, Sof and I have been friends forever. She’s great. She’s just not my type.”

“I thought your type was willing and breathing.”

“This is me you’re talking about, not Cam.”

“Cam has been a one-woman man for some time now.” Jo looked over his shoulder, a tight smile tugging at her lips and dulling her eyes to pewter. “And that one woman is on his arm right now.”

Walsh glanced to the doorway, where Cam and Kerris were laughing with his mother. What a picture Kerris made in her yellow dress. A lemon iced confection that would melt in his mouth. Sweet and tart.

A white orchid nestled behind her ear, contrasting against the rumpled elegance of the dark hair pulled up and away from her face. A beaded bodice topped the strapless dress, and a nipped waist flared to an A-line skirt floating just below her knees.

His stomach roller-coastered. All the blood in his body migrated south and pushed against the zipper of his tailored slacks. He fought the urge to retreat up the stairs to his room like some teenager suffering from his first crush.

It was bad enough he’d had to watch Cam and Kerris together all summer. Now he had those stolen moments in that hospital room to torture him. Kerris’s butter-soft skin, her sweet vanilla scent, the silky weight of her hair. Damn, the feel of her leg under his hand and the firm curve of her breast…

“Walsh, you’re hurting my hand.”

“What?” Walsh wrenched his gaze back to Jo, surprised to find her hand squeezed between his. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Walsh, you know Cam is serious about Kerris, right?” Jo used her don’t-play-a-player voice on him. “He’s going to propose again.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” Walsh’s eyes itched to look away, but Jo pinned him to the wall with those orbs.

“Nothing.” Jo threw the word at him low and hard like a ground ball he couldn’t catch before she threw the next one. “It’s nothing to do with you. Don’t forget that.”

“What are you two arguing about?” Cam asked. He and Kerris had crossed the room without their noticing.

“We’re not arguing.” Jo cleared her frown, offering a quick smile designed to reassure Cam and Kerris. “I’m just reminding Walsh of a few home truths.”

“Unnecessarily.” Walsh poured his displeasure into that one word and compressed his lips into a straight line around it.

“You look beautiful, Jo.” Kerris offered his cousin a sweet smile.

“So do you.” Jo softened her expression for Kerris. “Everyone can’t wear that color, but it looks just right on you.”

“Thanks.” Walsh saw Kerris touch the lemon chiffon skirt and glance around at a cluster of well-dressed women.

“And those shoes are incredible.” Jo pointed to Kerris’s small feet.

Kerris smiled, looking down at the shoes, too. Kitten heeled, with delicate gold straps and topped with a crystal orchid, they might have been the most adorable things Walsh had ever seen on anyone’s feet. And thanks to his mother, he knew shoes. “Hey, looks like it’s time for dinner.” Cam snagged Kerris’s hand and leaned down to brush her cheek with a kiss that lingered a moment, staking a subtle claim before leading her away.

* * *

Walsh flashed a smile he’d been cultivating in expensive schools and exclusive parties since he was twelve years old, hoping no one was the wiser. As long as he avoided Jo and Cam at the other end of the long table laughing with Kerris, he probably wouldn’t be found out. One of the Walsh Foundation’s largest donors had questions about the orphanage expansion under consideration, but Walsh struggled to focus. Sofie’s wandering hands weren’t making it easy.

“Excuse me just one moment,” he said to the silver-haired donor, turning in Sofie’s direction. “Sof, we’re friends, right?”

“At the very least, Walsh.” Her eyes, set at a low boil, traced his features.

“And we’ve known each other a long time, right?” He lacquered his smile to a high shine for those watching them.

“Yeah, what are you getting at?” Sofie allowed a rare frown to pleat her perfectly smooth forehead.

“Well, given our history, I’d hate to embarrass you, but if you don’t remove your hand from myveryupper thigh, I will.”

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