Page 17 of A Package Deal

“So, you weren’t matchmaking? You were reading my mind?” Nelie sounded relieved. Gus tapped his head and winked at Nelie. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and whispered, “Thanks, Dad.”

Chet pocketed his phone and relaxed for the first time that evening. He was ecstatic, and it sounded like Nelie was happy, too.

Gus pointed at Chet, looking severe. “Make sure my sunshine has fun tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Gus nodded and Chet wrapped an arm around Nelie, pulling her against his side as they watched Gus walk toward the exit. “Are you hungry? There’s a buffet in the other room,” Chet asked, but Nelie shook her head. “Something to drink?” Again, she refused, looking at him with her large blue eyes and a slight smile on her lips. “We could sit? Your feet must be killing you.”

Nelie bit her lower lip. “You could ask me to dance?” she asked, sounding nervous.

“I could, if my brains would unscramble. You always look lovely, but tonight you take my breath away.” He traced a finger down her cheek.

Her breath hitched, and she smiled. “Chet, would you like to dance?” she asked.

“I’d like nothing better,” he said, trailing her to the dance floor at a respectable distance. He wouldn’t claim to be a gentleman. The distance was purely tactical. He had an excellent view of the almost backless dress and the way it hugged her hips.

Chet pulled her into his arms and kept them at the edge of the crowd. A few times, he danced them into a dark corner, and trailed kisses from the corner of her lips down her neck while her quiet moans and gasps encouraged him. Once, he tried to slip a few fingers under the fabric at her back. The tight dress was about as bad as a chastity belt, and Nelie had chuckled at his low curse. Every time he’d asked her if she’d wanted a break or something to eat, she’d declined, and he hadn’t fought her. Holding her close was a dream he didn’t want to wake from.

“When did you tell the babysitter you’d be home?” she asked as she brushed her fingers through the back of his hair.

He groaned and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, an easier task in the mile-high heels she wore. He felt like he was sixteen years old, facing a curfew. “Soon.” He pressed his cheek against hers.

“I don’t thinksoonis an actual time.” He felt more than heard her laughter.

Chet pulled his phone from his suit coat’s inner pocket. He had three minutes before his alarm chimed. Three minutes left to beChet, The Mandancing in the shadows with the woman he desired before turning back intoChet, The Middle-Aged, Single Dad with a Stack of Laundry and Cleaning to Attacktomorrow. Nelie looked at him like she also wanted time to stop.

“But now is,” he said. They both frowned and sighed, and her distress cemented his hope. She didn’t want tonight to end, either. Would tonight’s rekindled feelings burn bright tomorrow, or would daylight snuff them out?

She wrapped her hand in his, saying, “Then let’s walk out together.”

Chet handed their vouchers to the coat-check attendant and held Nelie’s wool dress coat open for her. Again, gentlemanly, but it gave him an excuse to be near her under the bright lights. He didn’t dare offer to button up her coat. Now that they were out of the shadows, Nelie would hate being in the gossips’ crosshairs. When they were ready, he held out his elbow, and she slipped her hand through it.

“Nice mittens.” He tried not to laugh. They were black, like her coat, but each had a large gnome on it, complete with a red pointy hat, bright blue waistcoat, and a fuzzy white beard.

“Thanks. I thought I had everything planned, but I forgot about dress gloves.” Nelie shrugged and gave him a tight smile. Chet winced. He’d meant to tease, not torment.

“Screw the gloves. The mittens are you.” Chet squeezed her hand, and she smiled at him, a real one that lit her face and reached her beautiful, blue eyes. “Where are you parked?” he asked as they entered the lobby.

“Valet,” she said, sounding embarrassed. “I was running late.” They pushed through the heavy glass entrance doors and the cold air punched them. Chet took her valet ticket and handed it to the young man behind the desk before moving them under the outdoor heater.

“Glad to know I’m worthy of valet,” he teased, dropping a kiss on her forehead before tucking her into him. “You smell so good. It’s been driving me crazy all night.”

“I can’t believe you can still smell my body wash.”

“Nope, fries,” he said, and Nelie looked at him in horror.

“I was at the fryer before I came.” Nelie tried to cover her face with her ridiculous mittens, but Chet caught them and pinned them to her back.

“And I’ve been hungry for you the whole night,” Chet covered her mouth with his, desperate for a taste of her. Nelie tried to free her hands, but it was a half-hearted attempt and Chet held her still with his kiss. Her slight whimper and parted lips encouraged him as he took the kiss deeper. A rude, throat-clearing noise entered Chet’s consciousness, followed by a few taps on his back.

“Excuse me, sir. Ma’am, your car is here.” Chet looked over his shoulder and glared at the valet. He nodded his head, hoping the kid would step back and give them a moment. “Fries are my weakness,” Chet said near her ear, as his hands traveled up her arms before stepping away from her.

Nelie blinked a few times as if trying to find her bearings. Chet understood the feeling. She walked toward her car, giving him one last look at her incredible legs. He leaned against the wall, hoping it would cool him. She’d dressed to the nines, intending to win him against other women and stake her claim.Frugal Nelie Peterson spent money to buy me.Technically, Gus bought him—Chet wanted to know how the old guy had pulled it off—but he knew Nelie wouldn’t rest until she’d paid her dad back. She’d bought him. Barbaric and neanderthal? Possibly, but to Chet it was hot as hell. Nelie wanted him.Them. And she wasn’t afraid to go public with it.

Chapter 12

Neliepulledherphonefrom her back pocket.Chet. Again. Her heart tripped and soared as she walked toward her office. She didn’t need her crew watching her stumble through her nerves. And Chet made her nervous. He made her feel things she’d buried beneath her responsibilities of bills, health inspectors, advertising, and bank deposits. Which was why she hadn’t returned his first call, or his second. But she hadn’t deleted the voice messages. That gave her brownie points, right?

“Does Saturday work?” he asked when the call connected.Rude.

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