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I catch Grace's warning look and scramble for a plausible half-truth. “We . . . bumped into each other on a hike last week and got to talking.”
Aria narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed.
Just then, Maddie comes out of her room, a vision in glittering sapphire. The gown's draped silhouette reveals her delicate collarbone. Her umber locks tumble over one shoulder in gentle curls, daring my hands to tunnel through. As she glides toward me, I catch a whiff of the sweet scent of lavender, and I'm momentarily paralyzed.
“Hi, Jack,” Maddie greets me softly. Noticing my reaction, a hint of a smirk plays on her red lips.
Damn. This woman could tempt a saint.
“Maddie. You look . . .” I grasp for an adjective. “Striking. “
Focus, man.
Was the room always this sweltering?
“We should get going.” I grab her hand as she waves with the other at her startled sisters, and we take our leave.
Tonight will be one long, exquisite torture session.
* * *
I steer the car up the winding drive, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The sprawling resort emerges, lit up like a golden jewel against the night sky. I toss the keys to the valet and round the car just as Maddie steps out, looking unfairly poised and lovely. Unable to resist, I trail my eyes down the plunging backline of her gown, vividly recalling an hour of sweet agony on the highway.
Watching her dance and lip-synch through sultry pop from the corner of my eye had my hands white-knuckled on the wheel, undoing me mile by mile. For an hour, she scrolled through playlists, lip-syncing and recording catchy dance moves and hand gestures that had my heart pumping.
“For tomorrow’s posts,” she explained when she caught me staring at her in slow traffic, with not a clue about the havoc she was wrecking on my restraint. By the time the city skyline faded behind us, I had mapped out countless scenarios that would surely earn her viral fame of a distinctly more risqué variety.
As the valet zooms off into the night, I catch Maddie admiring the sprawling golden resort, the jeweled lights dancing across her face. Unable to stop my wandering gaze, I drink in the sight of her in that striking gown, desire still simmering from our charged drive.
Clearing my throat gruffly, I fish a ring from inside my dinner jacket. I lift Maddie's slender hand in mine, the warmth and nearness hitting me. Without fanfare, I slide the sizable diamond solitaire onto her finger.
“There. Now the engagement looks legitimately official,” I mutter, eyes on the glittering stone rather than meeting her startled look. Still clasping her hand loosely, my thumb brushes across her smooth knuckles.
“Figured if we're going to convince my father, might as well back up the act with some serious carat dazzle,” I add with attempted nonchalance.
Silence hangs for several taut heartbeats as Maddie finally looks up searchingly. Something uncomfortable grips my chest awaiting her reaction after essentially branding her as my bride-to-be.
“Any other fiancé surprises up those sleeves of yours?” Maddie asks lightly, popping the tension. I grin as I take her arm, her warmth and nearness undoing my resolve. We climb the stone steps adorned with exotic floral displays. From the arched doorway, jazz music and laughter spills outside, mingling with the soft gurgle of courtyard fountains. I present our engraved invitations and pass into the sprawling grand ballroom, washed in amber light.
Gliding inside, I hear Maddie’s soft gasp as she takes in the dazzling display. Towering ice sculptures carved into various military insignia flank the spacious dance floor, sending prismatic reflections dancing. Medal-adorned veterans mingle with magnates and their stunning wives draped in designer gowns and dripping in diamonds. Servers in crisp uniforms offer trays laden with haute cuisine canapés. We walk through the lavish ballroom with Maddie’s hand tucked in mine.
She leans in, her lavender perfume coiling around me. I stop to face her, tilting her chin up to meet my gaze. Her lips part softly as I trace my thumb across her jawline. I graze my mouth over hers, relishing in her shudder, then take her hand again.
“Ready for our debut, Little Bird?” I wink at her and lead us down the grand staircase into the blinding display of New York's highest echelon.
Weaving through the cocktail reception, I spot familiar faces and introduce Maddie as my fiancé. Male eyes follow her hungrily, but she presses closer to me, our steps syncing seamlessly. I let go of her hand to grab a flute of champagne for her and a sparkling water for me, then place my free hand on the sweet slope where her back bends into a curve. Her skin feels like warmed satin, and I can’t help but trace my thumb over the delicate dimpled shadow at the base of her spine.
She slows her steps, and I look down, noticing her lips quiver.
“The way you are touching me doesn’t feel like pretend, soldier.”
Before I can respond, a familiar voice calls out. “Jack Whitmore! Good to see you back stateside, son.”
I turn to find Joseph Barton, an old business associate of my father's, making his way over, white-haired head bobbing eagerly above the crowd. We exchange a hearty pat-on-the-back hug.
“Joe, wonderful to see you,” I greet him sincerely. “Let me introduce my fiancé, Maddie Emerson.”
My hand still splayed on her bare back, she ducks her head with an endearing blush, eyes dancing under the crystal chandeliers.
