Pretend It's Love(9)

Libby's eyes widened as she stepped toward the door. "Not really … I don't think."

At that moment the front door burst open and the Chapmans' very large,  very excited Great Dane burst forth. He immediately locked onto Libby  and jumped up, throwing his paws over her shoulders.

"Oh my God!" She wobbled on her heels, but Paul grabbed her around the  waist from behind, preventing her from toppling over and taking the dog  with her.

She stumbled back against him, her ass pushing squarely against his  groin as she tried to wriggle free from the dog's grip. If she hadn't  known about his attraction to her before, she would now.

Trust his libido to come back in full force with the one girl who had a "no sex" policy.

"Down, Cavallo!" His mother's voice rang out over the commotion. "Siediti!"

The dog relinquished, its large tail thumping against the doorframe.  Even seated, the top of his head came up to the bottom of Libby's  ribcage. Cavallo sniffed her and then proceeded to wipe a long strip of  doggy drool across her jeans.

"I am so sorry," his mother said, shooing the dog inside. "He gets very excited when we have guests."

"It's okay." Libby blinked, looking down at her jeans and then back up  to Paul, stifling a smile. "Excitement is a natural thing."

Paul tried to subtly adjust the front of his jeans so his hard-on  wouldn't be noticeable, but the quick flick of Libby's eyes told him  he'd been well and truly sprung.

"Ma, this is Libby … my girlfriend." It couldn't have come out any more  awkward if he'd tried, but the tension would be lost on his mother.  Hopefully so would the guilty tone in his voice.         

     



 

She looked pleased as punch as she held the door open and motioned for them to come inside. "I'm Leone, so lovely to meet you."

"Sorry to spring this on you. I understand Paul didn't let you know I was coming." Libby shot Paul a mock-stern look.

"Not to worry. We always have plenty of food." His mother smiled warmly and patted Paul on the cheek.

He could practically feel the excitement shimmering off her. "Don't make this a big deal, Ma," he said into her ear.

What the hell was he doing? This was his family, his blood. And he was  going to parade Libby around like some kind of magician's trick. A  diversion tactic while he tried to make something of himself in the  background. Clearly, he hadn't been thinking. But it was too late now.  His ma was trying her hardest not to burst into a huge smile as she  closed the door behind them. "Your brother and Gracie are already here,  go through to the table. Dinner will be out in a few minutes."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Libby asked. "I feel bad we didn't bring a bottle of wine or anything with us."

"Ma won't let us bring anything to dinner," Paul said.

"It's fine, I'm nearly done. You two take a seat and get something to  drink." Her dark eyes shone as she gave one more pointed look at him  before she bustled off down the hallway.

"You could have warned me about the dog," Libby said, looking down at her jeans.

Cavallo milled around, still intent on sniffing out the new person in  the house. Libby reached out and tentatively scratched his head, her  shoulders relaxing when she realized the big beast wanted a little  affection and not a bite of her hand.

"What's her name?" she asked.

"His," Paul corrected. "Cavallo. It means horse in Italian."

"Fitting." She laughed. "You could have warned me about something else, too."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Bull." Her hazel eyes glittered. "I thought we agreed no sex."

"We agreed not to have it, but there's not a chance in hell of me not thinking about it."

A pink flush crawled up her cheeks, and she kept quiet. They spent a few  more minutes fussing over the dog, and Paul found a tissue so Libby  could clean up her jeans.

His mother's voice carried through the house, her excited Italian  revealing to the others that Paul had brought a girl to dinner.  Thankfully, Libby seemed to have no idea what was going on. As if on  cue, Gracie poked her head out from the dining room, and a big grin  spread across her face. No doubt Des had translated his mother's  pronouncement to her.

"Hello!" She bounded out and gave Paul a quick hug. "Who's this?"

"Gracie, meet Libby."

"Welcome," Gracie said, sticking her hand out.

The girls shook hands. "Nice to meet you."

Gracie motioned for them to come through to the dining room, turning  back to wink at Paul when Libby couldn't see. Des and their father were  already seated at the table, both of them subtly raising a brow when  Paul ushered Libby inside.

The introductions went round the table with lightning efficiency, and  then the food appeared. Over the clattering of cutlery, serving spoons,  and appreciative full-mouthed grumbles, Paul watched as Libby drank it  all in with wide eyes.

"So, Libby, I had no idea you were dating my brother. How long have you  two been going out?" Des asked, though the implication in his question  was why is this the first we've heard about it.

"Not that long," Libby replied, reaching for her glass of water and taking a big gulp. "We only made it official recently."

Gracie leaned forward, her curiosity undisguised. "And how did you meet?"

"Through a friend of a friend." She nodded as though convincing herself,  but she made a show of squeezing Paul's shoulder affectionately. "We  hit it off right away, something about him felt … perfect."

"That's so sweet." Gracie looked to Des. "Remember when we were like that?"

Des nodded. "We're still like that."

"Tell us a little about yourself, Libby." His mother said, gesturing  with a forkful of broccoli. "Since my son has told us nothing."

The excitement in her voice twisted like a knife in his stomach. What  would happen when he and Libby "broke up" after the wedding? Would she  go back to thinking that he'd failed her? What if she found out he'd  been lying the whole time? He couldn't let that happen.

Having Libby by his side would help for now, but it was only one part of  the plan. He needed to figure out the rest of it before he ended up in a  worse position than where he started.         

     



 





Chapter Five

Libby felt every pair of eyes in the room turn to her in the wake of  Leone's question. The clacking of cutlery stopped, and Paul's entire  family waited expectantly.

"Well," she said, taking a deep breath. "There's not much to say. I'm an  only child, I was studying medicine, but I've put my schooling on hold  to work on a business venture. I love to travel."

Was meeting a prospective partner's parents always like this? It felt  like an awkward job interview and she hated running off the aspects of  her life like items on a grocery list. She shifted in her seat, her eyes  darting to Paul silently begging him for help.

"Her favorite movie is Die Hard," Paul added.

"The first one?" Paul's father, Darren, asked. It was the first thing he'd said all evening.

Libby smiled. "Of course."

"You know, I don't know why they made the fourth and fifth ones," he  said, shaking his head. The older man had dark hair with a smattering of  gray around the temples, he wore thin wire-rimmed glasses and, though  he looked like the stern silent type, his face lit up at the change of  conversation. "I didn't see them."

Libby's shoulders relaxed. "You didn't miss much. I mean, I love Bruce  Willis, but you need to know when something has jumped the shark."

"Exactly!" Darren thumped the table with his fist, making the salt and pepper shakers jump.

The table dissolved into a debate about the prevalence of sequels in  action cinema, which lead to an argument about the reboot of Indiana  Jones. Libby and Darren were clearly on the same side, while Gracie and  Des argued against them.

Paul sat back quietly, tucking into his food though his eyes kept  darting over to her. Even silent, his presence radiated, drawing her  attention away from everything else … including the dance-in-your-mouth  delights that his mother had placed on the table.

Thinking about the way his body had felt pressed up against her would  lead to trouble, but how could she forget the hardness of his  muscles-and other things-against the curve of her back, and his hands at  her waist. He was masculine without being macho, strong without being  forceful. The perfect balance.

"If you keep staring at me like that I'll have to take you home," he whispered, placing his hand on her thigh under the table.

The rest of the table chatted amongst themselves. Libby scanned the room  to see if anyone was watching them. "I'm not staring … and keep your  hands to yourself."

"But we're supposed to be dating." His breath warmed her neck, sending a tingle of anticipation skittering down her spine.