The Player and the Pixie(46)
“You must know how beautiful you are,” I murmured.
His lips firmed and it took a second for him to reply. When he did he cast his hooded gaze on me, taking my hand and smoothing his fingers over my knuckles. “I’m too big and imposing to be beautiful.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” His eyes searched mine. “Most beautiful things are delicate, so fragile that even to look at them feels like they might break.” He whispered this last part and I found myself catching my breath. It felt like he was trying to tell me something; that I was the delicate, fragile thing he described. My heart beat fast like the wings of a butterfly.
“That’s not true. Beauty comes in many forms, and the strong, powerful kind is the most admirable. It’s easy to be weak; you simply do nothing, but strength takes courage and effort.”
His eyes blazed as he lifted my hand, bringing it to his mouth and pressing his lips to the inside of my wrist. I shivered. “You have this incredible way of showing me new ways to look at things, do you know that, Lucy Fitzpatrick?” he asked, and my tummy flipped over on itself.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” I blurted.
“Why not?”
“Because they mix me up.”
His attention dropped to my lips. “Would that be so bad?”
“Yes.” I nodded once, very emphatically, and paired it with a strained laugh, speaking louder than was strictly necessary. “It would be the worst.”
He narrowed his eyes as though to protest, but I scrunched up my face at him, forcing playfulness. Pulling my hand out of his, I pointed a teasing finger of accusation in his face. I needed to break the tension.
“And you know why it would be the worst. So keep your compliments and hands to yourself while I’m trying to work.”
Because I’m weak when you’re kind to me, and I need to be strong. These were the words I left unsaid.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he just stared at me like he wanted to argue.
The taxi pulled to a stop and I dragged my attention away from Sean to see we’d arrived just down the street from Le Cirque. I made myself focus on work, in truth happy to have an excuse to change the subject, and craned my neck. I soon spotted a gaggle of photographers already gathered outside. They were hanging back, chatting amongst themselves, so I knew the happy couple weren’t there yet.
Sean’s hand went to my lower back as he ushered me out and I realized he’d already paid the driver. When we were on the street his hand still remained in place, and something fizzled in my tummy at the idea of us being together like this in public. In a way, I adored the anonymity. Nobody knew us here, who our families were, or where we came from, nor did they know all the reasons why we shouldn’t be together.
Catching sight of Mackenzie’s jet-black ponytail and red-tartan bomber jacket, I led Sean over before tapping her on the shoulder, trying to shake off the residual feelings of unrest caused by his closeness, and words, and . . . everything.
She turned and broke into a wide smile when she saw me, her expressive green eyes framed by thick tortoiseshell glasses.
“Lucy! I missed you,” she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug.
“Missed you, too. Any sign of Carly and Dean yet?” I asked and she shook her head.
“No sightings of Carl-D so far. I’m trying to make Carl-D a thing, do you think it will take?” She grinned impishly but then her mouth fell open when her eyes landed on Sean. She peered up at his face, her attention traveling slowly down his body before she let out a choked cough.
“Uh,” she croaked. I thought she might be a little tongue-tied.
“This is Sean. He’s my, um, my friend from back home,” I said, still feeling a bit muddled myself as I introduced him.
“Hi,” said Mackenzie, her voice going all weird and breathy. She’d always told me she became a stuttering mess around attractive men, but I’d never seen it in action until now.
“And this my friend Mackenzie,” I went on. “Sean, Mackenzie, Mackenzie, Sean.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Sean purred, taking her hand and lifting it to his mouth for a brief kiss. I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if he did it on purpose just to fluster her.
“Oh my God, your accent,” Mackenzie blurted and then turned bright fuchsia. She glanced at me and not so discreetly mouthed wow.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed two black SUVs arrive and hurried to pull out my phone. Mackenzie flew into action too, grabbing her camera that had been hanging around her neck, lifting it to eye level.
I held up my phone, frustrated by how far back we were. There were too many people in front of me and I couldn’t seem to get a decent shot. Since Mackenzie was a good few inches taller, she didn’t have the same problem.