Pretend It's Love(17)

Gracie shot him a look. "We don't have to serve them all night, but I  love the story behind our drink. We can make it part of our speech and  then get the waiters to hand them out. They are absolutely beautiful."

"I could make you some miniature bottles to give away as gifts for your  guests or bridal party," Libby offered. "I did it for a friend, and they  looked so adorable. We did custom labels with drawings of the bride and  groom."

"We haven't figured out the bonbonnière yet." Gracie turned to Des. "I  know you were keen to do that since it's such a big Italian tradition."

The discussion between Gracie and Des dissolved into a checklist of wedding preparation activities.

Paul leaned in close to Libby. "You totally sold Des. He looked damn impressed."

"You think so?" She turned her head. He sat so close that his heat  enveloped her, awareness danced along her nerves, filling her body with a  delicious hum.

"You nailed it." He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear, a throaty  chuckle reverberating against her neck when she shivered. "I, on the  other hand, need a business plan."

"I could help you with that."

"I'd prefer it if you help me with something else." He trailed a fingertip down the length of her neck.

"Don't think you can get all handsy just because we've had a few drinks," she whispered, shooting him a look.

"Isn't that what a boyfriend does?" He grinned. "You seemed to enjoy it yesterday."

When it came to seduction Paul could run rings around her … with his eyes closed and both hands tied behind his back.

"I've got an idea," Gracie suddenly announced, her eyes twinkling with  mischievousness. "Since we have all this vodka at our disposal, why  don't we play a drinking game?"

"You're going to have a killer hangover tomorrow," Des warned, brushing a stray curl from her face.

"I'll be fine." She waved off his concerns. "I want to play Never Have I Ever."

Paul groaned. "I don't feel like condemning myself tonight."

"Okay, I definitely want to play now." Libby raised a brow.

If he wouldn't open up to her under normal circumstances, maybe he'd let  a few things slip in a competitive situation. Their arrangement was  supposed to be business, but pleasure had crept in, and curiosity had  followed close behind.

"Fine," Paul said, bending down close to her again. "But I won't hold back."

She sucked in a breath, willing her heart to beat more slowly. "Bring it."

"Why don't we fix the ladies a drink?" Des motioned for Paul to follow  him to the bar. "Make sure Gracie's is 90 percent soda water."

"I heard that!" Gracie pointed at her fiancé.

"She's a big girl, she can handle herself," Paul replied, winking at Gracie.         

     



 

"You haven't seen her hungover. She gets so miserable." Des shook his head ruefully. "I hate seeing her like that."

"Awww, true love," Libby said, her tone teasing though envy coursed through her like poison.

Since when did she want that? She shook her head, trying to dislodge the  strange sensation. Instead she concentrated on watching Paul make their  drinks, mesmerized by how his hands seemed to caress everything he  touched. Or was she drunk?

Paul reached for some fresh tumblers and measured out half shots of  vodka into each of the girl's glasses. He topped them up with plenty of  soda water and added a dash of syrup.

At the rate her head was turning fuzzy, the watered-down drink would be a blessing.

"It's for their own good." Des slapped Paul on the back and returned to the table. "Can I get a reminder on the rules?"

"We go around in a circle and make a statement starting with never have I  ever," Gracie said, accepting her drink from Paul. "If you've done the  action then you take a drink. For example, if I say never have I ever  gotten a tattoo, Des would have to drink but I wouldn't. Got it?"

"Let's go." Des reached for his own drink.

"I'll start," Libby volunteered, looking around the table with a dramatic pause. "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

Both Chapman boys took a swig of their drinks and looked at each other,  laughing. Seeing them together in such a relaxed atmosphere, they were  startlingly alike: dark hair, darker eyes, olive skin, and great bodies.  But Paul had a mischievous charm about him whereas Des was more  serious, the typical older brother.

"Delinquents." Gracie shook her head. "Never have I ever been to Europe."

The rest of the group all raised their glasses with a cheer and Gracie pouted.

"Never have I ever flashed someone," Paul said with a sly grin.

Silence settled over the table and curious eyes darted around the table  until Libby took a swig of her drink. Her cheeks felt hotter than the  pavement on a summer's day.

"I did Mardi Gras for my twenty-first birthday, so sue me."

"You wanted those beads, didn't you?" Paul threw back his head and laughed.

"Someone dared me, and you know how I am with dares."

His eyes darkened. "That I do."

"Never have I ever woken up somewhere and had no idea where I was." Des  raised his glass but no one drank. "Nice to see we're all responsible  adults here."

"Never have I ever dumped someone via text message." Libby looked around and Gracie took a swig of her own drink.

Paul followed. "Guilty as charged."

"That's terrible, guys," Libby admonished. "Don't you think people deserve to have it said to their face?"

"The face-to-face breakup is overrated." Paul's lips twisted into a grimace, and Gracie nodded.

"I agree. Sometimes if you know the person is going to have a meltdown, text is better."

"You better not do that to me." Des pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head.

"Never," Gracie said solemnly. "Okay, never have I ever been publicly dumped."

Libby looked at her glass, contemplating a white lie. Paul would no  doubt ask about it, and she hadn't really shared anything about her past  relationships. Make that relationship. Singular. After that disaster  she'd never gotten close to anyone … what was the point? Her ex had only  reinforced what her parents taught her-relationships were risky,  especially with men who had a lot of female attention, and there was  little chance of reward.

"Define publicly?" Paul toyed with his glass. "Are we talking in front of a crowd?"

Gracie drummed her fingers on the tabletop. "In front of at least one person who wasn't in the relationship."

Paul picked up his glass and took a longer than necessary swig, looking  at Libby the whole time as if daring her to ask him about it. His eyes  remained hard, his jaw set tight. So he knew what it was like? No wonder  a fake relationship appealed to him.

She responded in the only way she could, raising her glass and matching his gulp with hers.

"Aww, you poor things," Gracie said, crestfallen. "I was hoping no one would drink to that."

"Life goes on." Paul shrugged. "It won't happen to me again, I'll make damn sure of that."

Libby reached out under the table and grabbed Paul's hand. She had no  words, nothing that would soothe the past for either of them. Screw her  ex and his, too. They were great people who deserved better than to be  treated like garbage.         

     



 

"Never have I ever had a nickname," Des said, breaking the tension and moving the game along.

When Libby didn't drink, Paul's elbow dug into her ribcage. "Why aren't you drinking?"

"I don't have a nickname," she said.

Gracie looked at her incredulous. "Never?"

"It's a lie," Paul brought the drink to her lips and held it there. "Your nickname is Tiger, in case you've forgotten."

He proceeded to stare at her until she took a sip of the drink, knowing  she'd later regret accepting his declaration while he regaled the group  with the story of how he came to give her the only nickname she'd ever  had.

Glaring at him because she really did hate the nickname, she couldn't  stop the spread of a smile across her lips. Nicknames and in-jokes  weren't something she was used to. She'd never had any siblings to share  them with, and her circle of close friends was shockingly limited.

For a moment she let herself believe that she belonged in Paul's world … no matter how dangerous she knew it to be.



When the drinking game had devolved into dirty questions that made the  girls giggle, they all agreed to call it a night. Libby hugged Gracie,  and they made plans to catch up and discuss the cocktails for the  wedding.

"They're two peas in a pod, aren't they?" Des said, folding his arms across his chest. "She's good for you."

They stood at the front door, the summer breeze rolling in and carrying the scent of eucalyptus from the yard.

Paul raised a brow. "How so?"

"She's smart, fun. You're not chasing random tail at the bar anymore, you seem … focused. Happy."