Save the Date

by R. J. Groves

She shrugged. ‘And you’re her brother.’

  He placed his hands cautiously on her shoulders, careful not to touch anything else. It seemed particularly hard to do, considering her breasts seemed higher than what looked normal.

  ‘Which is why this cannot happen.’ He gave her a look that made him feel like he was reprimanding a child.

  She scoffed. ‘She’s marrying your best friend.’

  He was hoping she wouldn’t bring that up. Seems she’d put some thought into it after all. He nudged her back and put some distance between them again. He kept his eyes on her, so she couldn’t sneak up on him again. ‘That’s different.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Well, I like Connor, for starters.’

  ‘And you don’t like me?’

  Not at all. ‘You’re a nice girl.’

  ‘I’m not a child.’ She crossed her arms over her chest again, her breasts looking like they’d pop out of her dress at any moment.

  He diverted his gaze. ‘No, you are not,’ he muttered, pouring some more bourbon into his clean glass and taking a big sip. It wasn’t as satisfying as it was before.

  ‘So, what’s the problem? We’re both adults.’

  That was debatable. He squinted. He’d always tried to let her down nicely. Perhaps she just needed the cold hard truth. ‘You’re not my type.’

  She looked at him with disbelief. No doubt, she probably thought she was everyone’s type. And to be honest, she had some aspects that were his type. He simply didn’t want a relationship. Which meant he didn’t get involved with his sister’s friends.

  ‘And what would your type be?’

  Andie.

  Except that Andie wasn’t really his usual type either. Yet somehow, she’d found her way under his skin. In fact, Isabelle was closer to his type than Andie was. He felt his pulse leap.

  Andie’s hair was auburn, a rich brown with a hint of red. It reminded him of melted chocolate. He’d typically gone for blondes, which Isabelle was. But there was something about Andie’s hair that made him want to loosen it from the restricting bun and see how far it fell down her body.

  He’d usually gone for women who confidently wore tight-fitting clothing. Tiny waists, long legs. Andie was curvier than what he was used to, but still, he couldn’t fault it. The curves were all in the right places. And if she was shorter than what he was used to, it only made her that much more adorable. He liked—needed—control. Andie fought him every second.

  He preferred women who were willing, unattached, with no baggage. Who understood not to expect more from him than a once-off, and knew he wasn’t looking for more. He couldn’t do that to Andie. He wouldn’t. Even if she was willing.

  She might not be his type. But hell, try convincing his body of that.

  He hadn’t been thinking when he asked her out. And he was annoyed that he had. He never mixed business with pleasure. And with Andie, he had. He might have been able to save it if she hadn’t accepted, but she had. Damn it. He wasn’t sure who he was annoyed at more—himself for asking, or her for accepting?

  He must have taken too long to respond, because Isabelle had moved closer to him again, her eyes expectant. His body was burning. He put it down to the fact that it had been a while. Andie had rattled him, that was all. He needed a release, and she made him aware of that. Isabelle took another step towards him and ran her fingertips up his chest again.

  Andie wasn’t there.

  Isabelle, however, was. And she was willing. Even if she was his little sister’s best friend—why, he still did not understand.

  ‘I’ve always liked a challenge, Tay,’ she said, her voice barely over a whisper, and drowning in seduction.

  Perhaps it was what he needed. Get it out of his system. Maybe then he wouldn’t lose control over himself around Andie. Especially with their date tomorrow night …

  Isabelle tipped herself onto her toes and pressed her lips against his. He tried to enjoy it, the way he might enjoy kissing a stranger. But all he felt was a weight resting on his stomach. A heaviness he couldn’t quite shake. He’d say it was like kissing his sister, despite the fact that he didn’t like the woman one bit—certainly not enough to think of her as a sister.

  She dug her fingers into his hair and pressed her body against his. Her cheap perfume overwhelming, and her kissing, well, not quite right. None of it felt right. He held her tiny waist and pulled her back, holding her at a distance.

  ‘Tay—’ she started, looking disappointed.

  ‘It’s not happening, Isabelle,’ he said, pushing her further away. ‘The sooner you realise that, the better.’

  ***

  A date.

  She’d agreed to go on a date.

  With a businessman—the exact kind of guy that she never ever wanted to be involved with again.

  Andie sipped her tea, cradling the cup between both hands, perched in the middle of the couch. She’d intended on watching the television, but hadn’t yet made it past her thoughts. Nor was she really in the mood for it now. She took a shaky breath, feeling her chest tighten.

  A date.

  With Taylor Ballin.

  Six weeks after her engagement had fallen through.

  Three months before her scheduled wedding date.

  Her eyes fell to the pile of save-the-date cards that still sat on her coffee table, waiting to be addressed and sent. Untouched since that horrible day. She’d dreamed of her wedding her whole life, and for once it had almost happened. But it didn’t. Her thoughts drifted back to the last time she’d touched those cards. She’d just finished writing them out and was about to address them when she got the visit. The visit that broke her heart and her dreams.

  She’d suspected something was amiss before then. But she’d hoped it was simply bridal nerves. So she’d carried on as normal, planning the best day of her life. Planning the rest of her life.

  She picked up one of the cards and read the details, bitter tears threatening to spill. No, she wouldn’t cry for him. Not anymore. He’d betrayed her in the worst way she thought possible. Hell, she thought that him running off with her best friend would have hurt less.

  Her gaze lingered on the address—the vineyard she’d dreamed of having her wedding at her whole life. For the entirety of her adult life, she’d reserved that place every two years. They were easily booked out, and she wanted to be ready, to have at least the location planned if the right guy came along. She’d never thought twice about it. It was simply something that she’d set in stone.

  She would have to call and tell them that it wasn’t going to happen this year either. They would ask if she wanted to reschedule—again. Like she’d done four times already. Normally, there’d be no doubt in her mind that she would reschedule. Now … well … things were different now.

  She’d come close to getting married.

  And now she was back to square one.

  She dropped the card back on the coffee table and sniffed. She would call them when she worked out what she was going to do. She’d only recently begun to realise how pathetic it must seem, how desperate she appeared by booking the venue every two years. She was blinded, obviously, by the romanticised fairy tale she’d grown to believe.

  Well, she knew better now.

  Thank God she hadn’t sent those cards.

  She sighed and sipped her tea again, feeling the ache in her chest. Her house hadn’t seemed so lonely before now. She’d lived on her own for the most part of ten years. She was used to being by herself. Even when Joseph had been supposedly living with her, it was still her house. Her furniture. Her life. He never had a permanent residence in Perth. What was the point, when he travelled so much? And he was wealthy enough to practically live in a hotel. But for someone like her, who was in the mindset of saving as much money as she could, it made sense for him to move in with her. He brought a suitcase of clothes and his briefcase when he moved in. Nothing else. And he was away so much that it was like he hadn’t even moved in. She realised now how naive
she’d been.

  Which is why it could never work with Taylor. Like Joseph, Taylor was a businessman. Someone who took his work seriously, where everything was an opportunity to bargain or cut a deal. Or so it seemed. With Joseph, half of his work hadn’t been work at all. Why would Taylor be any different? He was as sure of himself as Joseph had been. As arrogant, and cocky, and charming.

  She’d go on this date with him only because it made the sale. Sure, she had to cut into her commission to make it. But Jannette was a fair boss. She’d understand. She just had to make sure there wouldn’t be a second date. She wasn’t sure her heart could take that.

  She blinked around the room again, the loneliness swamping in around her. When Joseph left, he took only what he’d brought when he moved in. Apart from the few photographs of the two of them that she’d already taken down, the house had mostly remained the same. Now, it looked just like it had before he moved in. As though nothing had ever changed. Yet, somehow, it seemed so much emptier than it ever had before.

  Lonelier.

  Perhaps it was her that was lonely.

  Her thoughts drifted back to Taylor and the way the deep tone of his voice pulsed through her body. How the way he looked at her sent a delicious shiver down her spine. He was a tiger, closing in on his prey. And she was the helpless deer, testing her luck. He would devour her. And there would be nothing left of her when he was through.

  He had the power to break what was left of her heart. And she couldn’t let him. Not if she could avoid it.

  Which is why the following night had to go so horribly, horribly wrong.

  Chapter 5

  When was the last time he’d taken a woman on a proper date? Drinks, he’d done plenty of times. But dinner? And a movie? Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had been to the movies. Or out for a meal that wasn’t business related.

  He studied the woman sitting across from him. Andie’s hair was tied up in a high bun, loose strands sticking out, her fringe framing her face perfectly. He clenched his fingers around his knife and fork, his hands itching to release her hair from its restraints. While he was wearing his usual dinner attire of suit pants, a business shirt, and a modern jacket that he’d draped across the back of his chair, she wore dark jeans that hugged her legs passionately, a plain white tee, and a simple grey cardigan that she’d kept on, rolling her sleeves up to her elbows.

  She wasn’t dressed like a woman on a date, someone trying to impress. No, she was dressed comfortably. Was she so sure of herself that she felt like she didn’t have to try to impress him? Then again, did he want her to impress him? It tugged at him in a strange way. She seemed to be making this date a lot more casual than he’d intended. Casual made him … uncomfortable. He reminded himself that this date was entirely business related. And business, he could do. Even if it didn’t look that way.

  He’d ordered a steak with vegetables and had half expected her to order a salad like any other woman he’d ever eaten a meal with. Instead, she ordered a burger and chips. The greasiest, messiest thing on the menu. He watched as she lifted the burger to her mouth—using her hands. She wasn’t even the kind of person to use a knife and fork with a burger. That, he’d admit, was a strange trend, and he was glad she didn’t succumb to trying to eat it politely. There was nothing polite about a burger.

  Her mouth closed over the burger and her eyes drifted shut. She let out a moan as she chewed. Embarrassingly, he felt a twitch below his belt and had to remind himself to close his mouth. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was drooling. This is business, he reminded himself. He had to remember it. Wishing that he was the burger would do no good. He cut into his steak with a little more aggression than usual.

  He’d picked her up, of course. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. She’d almost seemed surprised that he’d driven his own car. He hadn’t thought much of it. He wasn’t into having drivers and the like. An assistant was all he needed. And a cleaner that came once a week. Andie’s house was modest. Not too big, not new, but not so old that it was falling apart around her. He suspected it was cosy inside, too. Unlike his minimalist apartment.

  Andie had sat in silence in the short drive to the restaurant, staring out the window. But it hadn’t seemed awkward. And he didn’t have much to say either. When the silence had felt too much, he put the radio on and heard her humming quietly to the song playing. It had been … nice. And again, too comfortable.

  She lowered the burger to her plate and ate a chip, a little drop of sauce lingering on the corner of her lips. Did it still count as business if he reached across the table and wiped it off? Probably not. She frowned at him, and he realised he’d been staring, a piece of steak on the end of his fork, stopped halfway to his mouth. Damn.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she said, fiddling with another chip. She was yet to pick up her fork.

  ‘You’ve got a little …’ He half reached across the table and caught himself, bringing his finger to the left corner of his mouth instead.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, her cheeks darkening slightly.

  Her tongue slid out and delicately licked the right corner of her lips. The clean side. His mouth dried, and he was glad the steak hadn’t yet made it into his mouth. He might have choked if it had.

  ‘Did I get it?’ God, the innocence in her voice almost drove him wild.

  Who the hell was this woman?

  And what kind of game was she playing?

  ‘Other side,’ he choked out, shoving the steak in his mouth to cover up the way she’d affected him.

  Her tongue darted to the other side, slowly. He stopped chewing, keeping his eyes on her mouth. Had he realised how delicious her lips—her tongue—looked before now? He’d only really seen her twice before, and he could honestly admit he wasn’t thinking about her mouth either of those times. Not quite like this, at least.

  His thoughts drifted to the deal he’d cut with her, and what Libby said about digging into her commission. He found it difficult to swallow the steak, like he was swallowing his pride, but he managed to get it down. He’d felt bad when Libby pointed out the obvious. He’d been a jerk. But still … seven thousand for a dress. Then again, he’d gone back in with every intention to pay the full price. It’s just that when he saw her … He’d stopped thinking. And it seemed to be something he forgot to do a lot around her. He had to get that under control. And he knew how to start.

  ‘About the dress,’ he started, sipping his water. Water, because that’s all she wanted, and it didn’t seem right to drink bourbon when she wasn’t having anything.

  ‘I’d rather not talk about it,’ she said, lifting the burger to her mouth and taking a bite.

  His jaw clenched. He wasn’t going to be dismissed so easily. ‘I think we should.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she managed through her mouthful.

  His brow creased. She really wasn’t making any attempt to be particularly polite, was she? ‘Libby—my sister—’

  ‘I know who Libby is,’ she said, still rolling food around in her mouth.

  His jaw clenched tighter. So, she wasn’t just being cold at their appointment. It seemed to simply be her personality. He continued. ‘She pointed out that I may have dug into your commission—’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘—without realising it.’

  She narrowed her eyes and finally swallowed her mouthful. ‘You expect me to believe that? You hassled me for my staff discount, what did you expect?’

  ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘Oh, of course you didn’t consider that because the only people that get commissions are real estate agents and car salesmen, aren’t they?’

  He felt his jaw twitch. ‘I don’t think that.’

  ‘What, then? That my boss would foot the bill? Give me my full commission on a product I discounted without her approval?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then what, Taylor? What were you thinking?’

  Despite his annoyance, his frustration
s, he still noticed the way his name sounded on her lips. She’d only ever called him Mr Ballin. A name he’d grown used to in business, but it somehow never seemed right coming from her. Taylor, though … Few people had ever called him Taylor—his parents, and his grandparents. And they were all long gone. He’d always corrected people if they ever called him that, but Andie … That was something he could get used to.

  Business.

  He had to regain control of this conversation, and fast, before he lost himself again.

  ‘I wasn’t,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘Thinking.’

  Her brow creased, and he fought the urge to smooth the lines out with his fingertips. ‘You weren’t … thinking?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t.’ He rested his knife and fork on the edge of his plate. He’d hoped they would have at least gotten through their meal before it got to this point, but he’d clearly timed it wrong. He hadn’t expected her to have an outburst like that. He hadn’t known what to expect. He reached into his pocket. ‘But I’ve had time to think now, and I should pay the full amount for the dress.’

  She popped a chip in her mouth with her fingers. ‘You should have, yes, but it’s too late now,’ she said, licking the salt off her fingers. ‘It’s already in the books.’

  He forced his gaze away from her mouth and pulled his wallet out in front of him. ‘Then, I should reimburse you.’

  She scoffed. ‘Like I said, it’s already in the books.’ Her eyes widened when he pulled a wad of notes from his wallet and held it out towards her. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m reimbursing your commission.’

  Her eyes darted around the room, but nobody was paying attention to them. Her cheeks reddened. ‘Put that away,’ she whispered scornfully. ‘You can’t go waving that kind of money around in public.’

  ‘Take it.’ He gave the wad a little shake.

  ‘No.’

  He sighed. ‘Take it, Andie.’ He didn’t think he’d ever held money out to someone for so long.

  ‘No.’

  His jaw tightened. This business dinner was starting to annoy him. ‘It’s your commission that I cheated you of. It’s only right that—’