The Wedding Rescue, Book Three(4)

It would make sense. A man didn’t head a corporation worth billions by being careless with money and throwing away this much cash on a weekend fling would be crazy. Still, the thought of being with Dylan longer term was hard to take in. Things like that didn’t happen to me.

I was so distracted, an arm slid around my waist before I noticed anyone nearby. I didn’t have to look up to know it wasn’t Dylan. The bad cologne was enough to clue me in. Peter. I tried to ease away without causing a scene, but his fingers tightened on my waist.

“You’re looking uncharacteristically sexy tonight, Leigha. Who knew you had it in you? You usually dress like an accountant.”

“I am an accountant, Peter.” I pulled back on his arm, trying to move away. His arm didn’t give. Dipping his head to my cheek, he said,“Once the new guy gets tired of you, I’ll be here. I can take care of you too, Leigha.”

“You’re marrying my sister,” I hissed, leaning back. This guy was disgusting. How could my sister be marrying him?

“Christie is a practical woman. As long as I can keep her credit card bills paid, she doesn’t ask questions.”

I didn’t want to draw attention, but I couldn’t take another second of his slimy hands. As subtly as I could, I jammed the spike heel of my sparkly gold sandal into Peter’s instep. His arm loosened, and I stepped away, trying not to cringe at the trail of his fingertips along my waist. Yuck.

“Don’t be so rude, Leigha,” he chided, only slightly favoring his foot as he stepped back. “When this guy dumps you, you’ll be on your own. I could be a good friend.”

“Fuck off, Peter.”

Not an original come back, but I was too grossed out to be witty. I whirled around, just wanting to get away from him. The sad thing was, I believed him about Christie. Not that she’d be cool with me being her husband’s mistress, but that she didn’t ask too many questions. I wondered how many late meetings and business trips he had. I was betting it was a lot. The thought depressed me. I didn’t really like my sister, but she was my sister. A marriage of convenience with Peter wasn’t a happy prospect.

This time when an arm wound around my waist, I relaxed into it, recognizing Dylan by instinct, even before his clean, masculine scent hit me.

“Sorry you got stuck with the evil twins while I talked to my Mom,” I said.

“That’s okay. You can make it up to me later.” The promise in his voice was enough to heat my blood. “What did Peter want?” he asked.

“Nothing.” No way was I going to tell Dylan what Peter had said. I had a feeling he wouldn’t take it well. And Peter wasn’t worth pissing Dylan off. I could handle Peter.

“I didn’t like him touching you,” Dylan said, his mouth moving against my ear in a whisper of a kiss.

“Neither did I,” I admitted.

“You’re mine. No one touches you but me. Understood?”

“Dylan,” I said, pulling away so I could face him. “I didn’t want him to touch me. I got rid of him as fast as I could.”

“I know.” Dylan took my hips in his hands and tugged me against him. Dipping his head to mine, he said, “I know you didn’t like it. And I know you were being polite. Next time, don’t be. No one touches you but me. Ever. That’s more important than being polite. Now tell me you understand.”

“What if I don’t want you to touch me?” I couldn’t help asking. Dylan nipped my ear, his teeth drawing a flash of pain that turned immediately into heat.

“If you don’t want me to touch you, we’ve got bigger problems than your fuck-head of a brother in law getting in your face.”

“Okay.” That was the best I could come up with. My brain had scattered at the touch of his teeth to my ear.

“Good. He touches you again, he answers to me.”

“Okay.” My brain clicked back into gear. “If it bothers you so much, why did you leave me with him?”

“I wanted to see what you would do,” Dylan said. I lurched back, suddenly pissed off.

“What?” I screeched. He’d left me to handle that pig as a test? Dylan’s arms tightened, not letting me move. People turned their heads to look. Dylan grinned down at me and pressed a kiss to my temple, whispering,“I’m buying you ten more pairs of heels just like that. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him leaving tracks of blood. You did a good job, sweetheart.”

I didn’t want to, but I melted—not just at him calling me sweetheart, but his praise. Testing me was high-handed and annoying. His being proud of me was hard to resist. Before I could think of what to say, Peter announced that it was time to go into dinner. Good. One meal, and hopefully not too many speeches to get through, and I’d be alone with Dylan again.