His face lit up. “I have this thing called a phone and a laptop. You’re free to borrow them . . . and stay in my bed.”
Greer rolled her eyes . . . but the idea wasn’t a bad one. There were a lot of meetings and fiddly things to be done, but she had her notes in her email and her email was on her phone, and her laptop was in her bag. She could work remotely and just catch up on things tomorrow. Theoretically. There wasn’t a way for anyone to catch up at this rate, but the lure of staying in New York—and in his bed—was awfully tempting. “I’m not sure . . .”
“Stay,” he insisted, his hands moving over her skin. “I’ll take you into my office and show you around the digs. We can go have lunch together. And then we can come back here and I can have you for dessert.”
“That is the worst line,” she teased.
“Ah, but is it effective?”
It seemed it was, because she decided to stay.
***
The rest of the day was busy, but wonderful. He made her breakfast as she ironed her sad, wrinkled blouse and slacks and put them back on. At least she lived in the same city, and not too far from his apartment. They could run over and grab her a change of clothing before heading into his office. After breakfast, they cabbed out to her apartment, changed clothing, and then headed downtown. Greer typed emails and texted responses frantically with every spare moment, but she didn’t regret her decision to stay, no matter how much Bunni and Tiffi were freaking out because Greer wasn’t there to answer questions about fittings and test-makeup in person.
At Asher’s office—OutSource Everything—things were quiet but busy. He led her into a conference room next to his office and brought her a laptop so she could work while he attended a meeting. After the meeting was done, they regrouped to head to lunch, and Greer found herself giggling into her soup and sandwich as Asher told her a frustrating anecdote from the meeting itself. It seemed that Asher had been running things for so long that he didn’t know how to pass control off to his new CEO—something she pointed out to him. The man kept going back to Asher because Asher had never given him full control and constantly stepped in to handle situations. He didn’t like hearing it, but he didn’t disagree with her, either.
After lunch, he brought her back to his office, and Greer’s thorny heart softened a little when he reached for her hand, holding it as they got into the elevator together. “You want a tour of the place?” he asked.
There was such boyish enthusiasm in his face, how could she possibly deny him? “Of course.”
So they toured the building, from the cafeteria on the first floor to the human resources department, to the call center that was buzzing with incoming calls. The place was busy but organized, and it was clear to Greer as they walked through department after department that Asher knew every inch of the company. He’d put in endless hours to make the place a success, and it was finally paying off for him.
He could be broke and you still wouldn’t care, a niggling voice whispered in her ear. You’re just as lovesick over him as you were before.
She wasn’t, was she? But when he reached for her hand and smiled at her as he led her through to the next area, she suspected that she was only kidding herself.
And heck, if she was kidding herself about that, why not go the full-court press? She stifled a yawn behind her hand.
“Tired?” Asher noticed it instantly.
She nodded. “Thinking maybe I should stay overnight again, if you don’t mind. I can fly back tomorrow with you.”
The pleased look on his face made her tingle with happiness.
This was how things should have been before. Of course, there was no reason why she couldn’t enjoy things as they were now.
Did it mean she had to stick her head in the sand a little and ignore any misgivings? Maybe. Did she care?
At the moment? No.
***
One Week Later
Asher: You ready for some practice tonight?
Greer: Are we still pretending it’s practice?
Asher: I’m pretty sure I could “bone” up on my skills.
Greer: Stop, seriously.
Asher: Should I send you a picture to convince you of my all-consuming lust, sweetheart?
Greer hid her phone as Kiki entered the dining room, just in case Asher was going to carry through with his threat and send her naughty photos. “Morning, Kiki.”
Instead of her normally bright and effusive greeting, Kiki just smiled and sat down across from Greer in her regular seat. She was dressed in a plain gray T-shirt and jeans today. No bikini, and no sight of her trademark blue anywhere. Strange.
“You’re not sick, are you?” Greer asked. They didn’t have time for anyone to be sick. The wedding was in a week and each day grew busier than the last.
Kiki shook her head and pursed her lips, then peered at the door to make sure no one else was coming in. When she was satisfied, she looked over at Greer. “I just . . .” She bit her lip and leaned in. “I’m having some misgivings,” she whispered.
Uh-oh. Greer’s heart sank. Kiki was the most sensible and easygoing of the triplets. If she had cold feet, who knew what the other two were thinking? Lots of brides tended to panic before the wedding, so that wasn’t so unusual. Greer handled that all the time.
But this was a different kind of wedding, and Kiki only had a one-in-three chance of actually becoming the bride. She was right to have misgivings, because one girl would end up married to Greer’s father, and the other two would just be dragged through the mud. Knowing Stijn as she did, she doubted he’d give up his other two girlfriends just because one was now a wife. It wasn’t an ideal situation for any of the girls but she’d assumed that they’d thought things through.
Guess not. “What do you mean, misgivings?”
Kiki’s expression was troubled. She picked up a pen and a pad of paper and began to doodle on it slowly. “Um.” Doodle doodle. “It’s not that there’s a problem, really. The dresses are nice. I’m really happy with how things are turning out. It’s classy, just like you said it would be.” Her smile was polite. “I just . . . I’m worried.”
“Do you not want to marry Stijn?”
She thought for a moment and then shrugged. “It’s not that he’s a bad guy. I really like Stijn. And I like living here.” She gestured at the room, indicating the Dutchman castle. “It’s just that . . . I never really imagined it to be permanent, if that makes sense. And now there’s a chance for it to be permanent and, well.” Her lower lip trembled. “If I win, that means my sisters lose.”
Greer nodded sympathetically. “It’s hard, I know. The entire situation is . . . unique.”
“It’s awful,” Kiki said bluntly. “He’s pitting me and Bunni and Tiffi against each other and not telling us which one he’s going to marry. We’ve been tiptoeing on eggshells for the last month, worried about saying the wrong thing and killing our chances at the altar. It’s hell. Poor Bunni’s so stressed out she’s been doing yoga three times a day. And Tiffi keeps buying stuff to distract herself. She’s turning into a hoarder.”
“And you?” Greer asked, curious.
Kiki licked her lips and looked away. “I just . . . Tell me. Are you sleeping with Asher?”
The conversation change was startling. Greer blinked and then adjusted her glasses. “Of course not,” she lied. “We’re just working together on the wedding.”
“I won’t say anything,” Kiki said. “I just . . . I know something’s up. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I guess that’s one reason I’m freaking out. I wish Stijn looked at me like that. Or one of my sisters like that. Then I’d feel better about the whole thing.”
“How . . . how does Asher look at me?”
Kiki’s expression grew wistful. “Like you’re the best thing in the world and he’d do anything to have you.”
Oh. Greer
’s stomach fluttered, and she felt her nipples tighten imperceptibly at the thought of Asher’s possessive glances. Others had noticed? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that . . . but it wasn’t making her unhappy.
And what did that say about her? Flustered, Greer pulled out her seating chart and tipped it towards Kiki. “There’s nothing going on, I promise. And as for your feelings, lots of brides get nervous before their wedding. You have a more unconventional wedding, so your nerves are going to be a little stronger than most.”
“You think so?” Oh, poor Kiki. She sounded so sad. But what could Greer do? Tell her not to marry Stijn? Not only would she be working against her father—the father she’d always desperately wanted to impress—but she’d be torpedoing her own wedding that she’d spent so much time organizing. And brides did have cold feet, and often changed their minds a dozen times before still showing up at the altar, all smiles. Most of the time, the panic was for nothing.
Most of the time.
“I know so,” Greer assured Kiki. “It’s all going to be fine.”
***
Gretchen: So like, we’re besties, right?
Greer: Of course!
Gretchen: Can I be your date to your dad’s wedding?
Greer: You . . . want to go to my dad’s wedding?
Gretchen: Hell yeah!
Gretchen: It’s going to be a TRAIN WRECK.
Gretchen: I shouldn’t have said that.
Gretchen: I’m sure it’s going to be a very nice wedding! But dude. I want front row seats for the bridal roulette.
Gretchen: Greer? Hello?
Gretchen: Oh come on. You know I’m just teasing you. We’re still friends, right? Love you? Kisses? Can a girl help it if she wants tickets to the craziest wedding of the century?
Greer: I’m not getting you tickets. There’s no tickets. It’s a wedding!
Gretchen: Damn.
***
Chelsea: Hey, so this is weird, but Gretchen wanted me to ask you something about the wedding.
Greer: Not you, too??
Chelsea: Not me what?
Greer: Oh, you mean Gretchen’s wedding? Sorry. I’m getting my weddings mixed up. What’s up?
Chelsea: She wanted to know if she could get tickets? And if it would be tacky to place a bet on which bride because it’s in Vegas?
Greer: Tell her she is dead to me.
Chelsea: :)
Her friends were jerks. Funny, but still jerks.
Actually, okay, they weren’t jerks. It wasn’t their fault she was totally stressing and losing her mind over this wedding. Greer peeked out the window in her room and frowned at the line of cars parked outside the gates. Already the paparazzi were showing up, and the wedding still wasn’t for two days yet. All afternoon, a helicopter had been flying overhead, and every time she left, she was trailed by someone following her, desperate to get details of the wedding.
She’d known it’d be a media frenzy, but she’d had no idea it’d be this crazy.
Her father’s wedding seemed to have captured the attention of the celebrity-loving tabloids. There wasn’t a day that went by that some new magazine didn’t have a new, lurid tidbit about the wedding, or “bridal confessions” or anything else to catch the public’s eye. Two of the triplets were eating up the attention. Kiki just seemed more tense as time went on. Her father? Her father was extremely pleased. He didn’t give two shits about the wedding itself, but the attention it was getting? He loved it, because it was good for business. Already he was planning a honeymoon issue of Dutchman magazine and some video sales. Of what, she had no clue—nor did she want to know.
And Greer?
Well, other than being utterly stressed by the pending wedding?
She was happier than she’d ever been. Being with Asher was just as she’d dreamed it. No, better, because she’d never imagined she could be so happy. When they weren’t together, they were constantly texting or sending silly notes to each other. When she had free time (and sometimes when she didn’t), he’d swing by the castle and pick her up so she could enjoy a nice quiet dinner somewhere. Most of the time it was back at his hotel room.
And they “practiced.” A lot. God, did they ever practice. They’d practiced so much that Greer’s head felt as if it were in a permanent fog of bliss. The sex was incredible. Granted, her standards had been pretty low when she’d agreed to the deal they’d made, but the reality kind of blew her mind. He insisted on making her come more than once each time he had her in his bed, and one night, he’d held his promise about licking her pussy for hours.
Yeah . . . that had been a really good night.
It was more than just sex, too. It was the way he touched her and held her. It was the way he talked to her about his day and asked for her advice on his business—as if she knew anything about outsourcing! But she liked that he asked her anyway. It meant that he valued her opinion.
Asher had proven to be sensible when it came to the wedding, too. Whenever the triplets thought up something new they wanted, he sensibly talked them into a much easier alternative—or out of the idea altogether. He was at every wedding meeting she conducted, and even though Bunni had done her best to flirt with him the entire time, he only had eyes for Greer.
So yeah, getting knocked up by a drunken man at a party? It might have been the best thing that had ever happened to Greer. She touched her stomach as she considered that, reviewing the endlessly changing placard of seating arrangements. Tiffi had showed up this morning with a laundry list of people she wanted out of the wedding and new people she wanted in and expected Greer to make it happen. She was doing her best, but it meant rearranging a lot of the seating. She couldn’t have the mayor of Las Vegas sitting next to the head of a pornography video company . . . could she? Or did it depend on if they brought wives? Most of the etiquette books didn’t give examples for that sort of thing, alas.
The baby . . .
Okay, so the baby was awesome, but it was also a real kink in the situation with Asher. Sometimes when she was lying in bed with him, she wondered why he was suddenly so interested in her. She worried it might be the baby. But if that was the case, why had he signed his rights away? The paperwork was done and filed with her lawyer.
The paperwork bothered her, too. It didn’t seem right to force Asher to give up his child. If he wanted to be in the baby’s life, did she have a right to prevent it? Did she even want to? If her baby had a chance of a loving father, how could she possibly say no after her cold, mostly forgotten upbringing?
It worried her. She wanted the best for her baby, and what if the best was two parents?
I swear I’m trying to think of you and not what I want, she told it silently. Just because I was mad at Asher, you shouldn’t be forced to be fatherless.
She wasn’t even mad anymore. Did that evening in the gardens still hurt her? Of course. But he’d sure made it clear that her pleasure in bed was his priority. She was willing to forgive. And he’d been so attentive and loving over the last few weeks.
It was almost like they were a real couple. She just really wasn’t sure what they were. Friends with benefits . . . and a baby on the way? What happened after the wedding? What then? She was afraid to ask.
“Such a serious look on your face,” called a familiar voice from the doorway.
She looked up and smiled at Asher. “Just planning some wedding stuff,” she lied. Her brain should have been fully in wedding-mode but she couldn’t stop thinking about him and the baby and how their puzzle pieces fit together. “Did you finish your to-do list?”
“Mostly.”
“Er, mostly? The wedding is in two days, Ash. What have you forgotten? Your suit? Is your suit not ready? Because—”
“The suit’s fine,” he told her, striding into the room. No one else was around, and so instead of sitting down at the large castle ta
ble, he came to her side and leaned against it, his leg inches from her hand. “You look tired.”
“I’m not tired. It’s just busy right now. Actually, I’m probably going to be busy up until they leave for their honeymoon.” She’d booked four tickets, just in case her father wanted to bring the trio with him. “That means there’s probably not much time for . . .”
“Playtime?” he supplied. He reached out and tugged a lock of hair free from where she’d tucked it behind her ear. “Is this you letting me down gently, sweetheart?”
“No! Not at all. I just . . . I need to focus for the next few days. That means I can’t stay at your place tonight.” Mostly because she tended to let him distract her away from any work she should have been doing and when she spent the night, she tended to sleep late. Real late. “I’m sorry. We need to focus. Everything has to go off without a hitch or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Of course,” he murmured, rubbing the lock of her hair between his fingers.
He certainly knew how to be distracting. “What did you say you haven’t finished on your list yet?”
I’m just struggling with the whole best-man speech part.”
“Because my father’s not given to sentiment?” She could understand that. Stijn was a hard man to like at times. Filling a speech with his greater qualities might not be the easiest of tasks.
“Something like that.”
“Just keep it brief and clever and I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She stacked her charts. “You can always practice it on me.”
He chuckled, and she realized what she’d said too late. “Why, Greer, are you telling me that I need to practice my oral skills?” He leaned in and tugged her hair free of the clip she wore. He’d gotten really good at releasing her hair, and every time he did, it led to sex.
Her entire body flushed with arousal at the thought.
God, what was it about being around this man that made her seem like she was a horny teenager ready to have sex at the slightest suggestion? And why did she love it so much? She bit her lip and peeked up at him. “Now that you mention it . . .” Her finger went to his slacks and she idly traced a fingertip along the front pleat. “You have needed a lot of practice lately.”
The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake: Billionaires and Bridesmaids 4 Page 20
