Page 173 of Boyfriend of the Hour
I thought about that for a moment. “I don’t know…I mean, I didn’t come here to keep secrets, but let’s be real. I wasn’t exactly prepared to be introduced as your stripper girlfriend, you know?”
I flapped a hand at the dress, the jewelry, the wholecostumeI was wearing. It was one thing to be confronted with the realities of my life in my own skin, another completely when I was essentially playing a role to help Nathan out.
Or was I? The dress and jewelry weren’t things I planned to get used to. But if this was his life, and our relationship was for real, shouldn’t I be preparing myself for more events like this? More polite conversations with his coworkers, meeting with his family, moments where I needed to represent…what, exactly?
Style? Smarts?
Whatever it was, I had the sinking feeling it wasn’t me.
I didn’t like that feeling. At all.
“Carrick won’t say anything,” Nathan broke through my thoughts. “For one primary reason: CEO.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Whether or not my brother thinks our relationship is appropriate, he would still like this to fail,” Nathan said calmly, though his voice walked a razor’s edge. “Because Carrick wants the title my parents are hell-bent on giving me: CEO of Huntwell.”
My mouth dropped. “Hedoes?”
It made sense, as did his obvious resentment toward Nathan. Carrick was the only one of the brothers who actually worked for the company and had for years. And yet his older brother was supposed to be named his father’s successor?
Unless he wasn’t. Unless Nathan was too happy and settled to move. Unless he was too much of a success in his own life for them to think of dragging him back to Virginia.
Which was where I came in.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why would he torment me, then? Why not just let me continue doing what we’re doing?”
“Oh, I think he will,” Nathan replied. “But like everyone else in my family, Carrick thrives on control. He definitely wants mesafely stowed away in New York. But he doesn’t like liabilities. And you seeing him at a place like that is definitely a liability.”
“Well, then,” I said. “I don’t really want to help Carrick, but I guess that’s another reason to be the best damn couple in the room, isn’t it?”
“Are we back to pretending?” He looked almost worried.
I popped up on my toes and delivered a kiss to his mouth. “Definitely not. Just…on our best behavior.”
His lips quirked before he kissed me back. “Well, in that case, what would a good boyfriend do right now?”
I looked around the room, where people were mingling and drinking, and several others had taken to the dance floor before dinner was served.
“He would ask me to dance,” I said with a grin. “Right now.”
Nathan blinked. Then a slow grin spread across his face. “Would you like to dance?”
His happiness warmed my heart. “I would, thank you.”
I let him lead me to the dance floor, where only a handful of couples were currently enjoying the smooth big band sounds blasting through the room. I knew a lot of them—partly because Nonna loved Dean Martin, but also because a lot of jazz standards doubled as musical numbers.
“I did a solo to this once,” I said when the band started playing “Someone to Watch Over Me.” “My high school did a Gershwin review. The choir sang the song while I danced.”
“Didn’t you want to sing too?” Nathan wondered. “You said you could well enough to be on Broadway.”
“I’m no soloist, but I have powerful lungs, and I can carry a tune,” I said and then began to sing along with the lyrics while he moved me around the floor. “‘There’s a somebody I’m longing to see…I hope that he…turns out to be…someone to watch over me.’”
Nathan led me through a simple turn, then pulled me back into his arms, almost like he couldn’t stand for me to be away from him for more than a second.
“I like your voice,” he said, his own suddenly rough. “I think I like everything about you.”
I chuckled, even as I lay my head on his chest. “Even my horrible pasta? And my mess in the bathroom?”
