Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Those images would never become a reality, and yet he’d love someone to try to stop him from fake marrying this kaleidoscopic woman.
On his way across the tent, he finally noticed Natalie was standing with her mother, her brother, Julian, and the blonde whom August assumed was Julian’s girlfriend. They were speaking in low tones over glasses of wine, seemingly unaware that, as the legendary Vos family, they were of interest to every guest in the tent. Classy, sophisticated. A quiet dynasty that had perhaps seen better days but remained legendary.
Maybe it would be fun to mess that image up for a while.
Fun or not, this was happening.
Because if Natalie was desperate enough to ask August to marry her, then she would eventually find someone else—and the very idea of that made his head want to explode. Maybe that ugly thought bubble was what spurred him into acting rash. She’d suggested they have a civilized conversation about their potential marriage while in neutral territory, right? Unfortunately, there was nothing civilized about August and it was going to be fun reminding her. Catching her off guard.
When August was approximately ten yards away, Natalie’s wineglass paused halfway to her mouth, her attention swiveling in his direction. She blinked back surprise and shifted in her white high heels, started to sip her wine, stopped, then glared at him. He would have laughed if he wasn’t about to finally, finally kiss her again.
“Hey, babe. Sorry I’m late,” August said smoothly, cupping her cheek and drawing her in, as though kissing her were second nature. As if he’d made a practice of it, when in reality, her smoke-and-flowers scent had his tongue seconds from rolling out of his mouth. He let himself feel the distinct pleasure of watching her golden eyes widen in shock—and then he couldn’t feel anything at all but relief. Yeah, relief. There was her mouth.
Perfect as ever. Touching his. Jolting, then softening.
Thank God.
He was only going to catch her off guard a little, needle her, maybe even punish her for doubting that he’d come through—but she inhaled quickly against his lips and he watched up close as her eyelashes fluttered and a dumbfounding one-two punch of lust and satisfaction caught him in the stomach. Their eyes closed simultaneously and they sank in, just for a second, a twisting feast of lips and a rough exhale that said this is far from enough. But here wasn’t the place for more, so he intertwined their fingers, winking at her when no one else could see—and did his damnedest to remember this wasn’t real. It was just one enemy helping out another.
Yeah.
“I . . . um.” Natalie shook herself, briefly shot a glance to her mother, whose eyebrows were nearly buried in her hairline. “August. I-I thought you said you couldn’t make it.”
“August? So formal.” He gave her a playful nudge in the hip. “What happened to ‘my Adonis’?”
Temper snapped in Natalie’s expression, but at least the irritation helped her focus, which had been his intention. “That’s something I call you only when we’re alone,” she said with a toothy smile. “You know, kind of like ‘shit for brains.’ And ‘rat king.’”
August laughed. “I love her sense of humor,” he said to the group, absently plucking a glass of wine off a passing tray and taking a long guzzle. Silence had descended like a heavy drape, not only among their fivesome, but across the tent. Until now, this very second, August hadn’t exactly planned on outright embarrassing Natalie. It was sort of a last-minute spin on his plan, born of sexual frustration and the fact that she truly believed he was a simpleton. He might not have a last name that people whispered in reverence on the streets of St. Helena, but he wasn’t a moron. Holding up his end of their battle of wits seemed to be his only way of making sure she knew it.
A full fifteen seconds had ticked past and still no one had commented on his arrival.
“I think I speak for the group when I say . . .” the dumbstruck blonde—Hallie, was it?—finally ventured in a stage whisper. “H’whaaaa is happening here?”
August feigned surprise, shaking stiff-shouldered Natalie a little. “You didn’t tell them, hon?” He drained the remainder of his wine, handing it off to a man who only looked confused by the empty glass. Oops, not a waiter. “Natalie and I have been seeing each other for a while now. Just like a fine Cabernet, we wanted to give ourselves room to breathe, so we’ve kept it quiet, but I was under the impression we were stepping out into the open today.” He smiled down at Natalie, who was very clearly three seconds from ripping his throat out with her teeth. “You said you didn’t want to hide anymore. You said, ‘Let’s shout it from the rooftops, my Adonis.’”