Wish List: City Love 4

by Belinda Williams

  “Oh?”

  “The whole list thing is just a big joke.”

  He leaned in a little too closely and spoke softly. “So you don’t like men with English accents?”

  I blushed. Bright red. I couldn’t help it.

  A flicker of victory flashed in his eyes. “So not entirely a joke then? I won’t say I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, but you’ve got to admit it’s pretty broad,” I said, eager for him not to get too carried away. “You’re not the only Englishman.”

  James sat up in his seat, then threw his head back and laughed. “True. I don’t know whether to be offended or worried, but at least I’m the only Englishman here, I suppose.”

  I immediately felt horrible. Without thinking, I reached over and touched his arm and then instantly regretted it. I tried to withdraw my hand but it was too late and he took the gesture as an invitation to close his fingers over mine. Stupid, touchy-feely tendencies.

  “So Cate,” he said, his voice low. He drew slow circles on my palm with his thumb. “It seems you’ve got a room to yourself this weekend.”

  My eyes must have widened because he gave me a slow, satisfied smile.

  “Seems like a good opportunity, doesn’t it?”

  No! I wanted to scream. No, it does not! And the truth was I’d been so distracted by the fact Dave was going to be sleeping next door I hadn’t even considered having a room to myself would become an open invitation. What was I going to do?

  Gently, I extracted my hand because the movement of his thumb over my skin felt wrong. “I’m not sure that would be appropriate, James,” I said. “Not with everyone else in the house.”

  “Are you sure you’re not British?” he teased. “You’re sounding very restrained.”

  “Of course I’m not British,” I said quickly, “but don’t you think if Maddy thought it was suitable she would have put us in a room together?”

  “Or perhaps you just didn’t tell her. How about we ask her now?” To my horror he started to stand up.

  I reached over and tugged him back down. He landed in his seat with a quiet ‘oof.’

  He shot me a questioning look. “Cate? What seems to be the problem?”

  “Nothing’s the problem,” I lied. “It’s just that this weekend should be all about Christa and Max and I don’t want to take away from that. Plus, we’ve only been on a few dates.”

  “What are you saying?” His accent came out more clipped than normal.

  “Exactly what I just said, James,” I shot back, sounding a lot less pleasant myself.

  He reached over and picked up his wine. “I’m sorry. I’ve come on too strong, haven’t I?” He gave me an apologetic smile, more in keeping with the James I was familiar with. “I guess I really like you, Cate.”

  Oh, wow. I did not want to be having this conversation. At all, if I were honest with myself, but this weekend was even worse. The whole situation was borderline ridiculous and I couldn’t get my head around it. Here was a lovely man who was being truthful and saying he liked me and I wasn’t able to reciprocate. Why? Because I was still thinking about Dave, that’s why. The way his thumb felt when it traced the skin on my palm. It had felt nothing like James’, that was for sure. James had felt, well, like a guy running his thumb over my hand. With Dave it was tantalizing and exquisite and a whole lot of other sensations the accountant in me was having difficulty putting into words.

  “Cate?”

  “Huh?”

  “Are you alright? I haven’t offended you, have I? When I said I liked you?” James asked.

  “Oh! No, not at all. I was just—” Daydreaming about another man, I realized with a sinking stomach. Probably not a good idea to bring that up. I cleared my throat. “I like you too, James, but let’s put a hold on things this weekend, alright? I really need to focus on helping Christa.”

  James nodded but some of the light had gone from his eyes. “That’s OK, Cate. I understand. Sorry if I was too forward.”

  “Don’t be silly.” I gave him a bright smile and took a gulp of wine.

  A very big gulp.

  *

  To my relief, the rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Actually that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Pointy things!” Christa yelled out at the top of her voice.

  “Stakes, they look like some sort of stake,” I heard Max’s friend Matt mutter.

  Dave shook his head, but didn’t say anything. Both of those were wrong, I was guessing.

  “Zigzags,” shouted Maddy.

  Dave frowned. He traced over the lines he’d drawn onto the white paper to make them darker.

  “Precipice!” Christa cried.

  Dave rolled his eyes and swore under his breath.

  What could it be? I wondered as he pointed to his shoulder. We all looked at him blankly.

  “It’s not charades,” Scarlett said, “it’s Pictionary. That’s not allowed, is it?”

  “Who cares,” Christa said, “we’re struggling. We need all the help we can get.”

  This was true. Sometime after dessert and possibly a little too much alcohol consumption, Scarlett had discovered an old board game of Pictionary in the TV unit. Despite our numerous protests, Christa had decided it would be the perfect way to end her last night as an unmarried woman. Women against men, naturally.

  Max hadn’t been so sure. Christa had been adamant and wisely Max chose to humor his wife-to-be. Like the rest of us.

  “Oh, I know!” shouted Christa, clapping her hands together. “Shoulder pads!”

  Dave stared at her for a second and then burst out laughing. My stomach clenched at the sight of Dave’s happy face.

  “No, Christa,” he said when he’d stopped laughing. “Creative guess, I’ll give you that, but no.”

  Christa banged two fists into her lap and it reminded me of Ava when she was frustrated. Maddy shot me a look over Christa’s head. I nodded slightly. Time to get the bride-to-be to bed. She’d had more to drink than she probably should have and needed her beauty sleep.

  Maddy stood up. “Alright, given our complete ineptitude at this game, I’m going to suggest we get the lovely bride here off to bed—”

  “No way,” Christa said. “If we win this point we could win the game. Just let us finish this one. Please.”

  “I wouldn’t mess with Christa’s competitive streak,” Max advised. “It’s usually better to just let it run its course.”

  Christa crossed her arms and shot him a derisive look. “That’s because we’re winning, loser.”

  The men cracked up, Dave included.

  “Love you too, Bubbles,” Max said.

  “Fine,” said Maddy impatiently. “But make it quick. Dave, please put us out of our misery, would you?”

  “I’ll try. Alright, I’ll see if I can make this go quicker.” He looked over at Scarlett. “As long as the rule Nazi doesn’t go calling a technicality?”

  John laughed from beside Scarlett, who held up her hands. “No, I’m good. Do what you need to do.”

  “Alright. Bear with me.”

  My eyes turned into giant saucers as we all watched Dave pull his t-shirt over his head.

  “What the?” I heard James murmur.

  Scarlett put her fingers in her mouth and let out an ear piercing whistle and John rolled his eyes at her. I clutched the edge of the seat.

  Christa pretended to fan herself and gave me a cheeky wink. “Is it getting hot in here?”

  “Not sure what you’re doing, mate,” said Max. “But make it quick or the girls won’t be able to control themselves and I’m not supposed to sleep with Christa until after the wedding.”

  Christa threw a pillow at Max’s head and it bounced off onto the floor near Dave’s feet.

  “Sorry, stay with me,” he said.

  I barely registered his apology because frankly, there was absolutely nothing to apologize for. On the beach I’d only been able to see him from a distance. Up close, his chest was, at the risk of soundin
g biased, perfect. He had enough muscle to suggest he was toned but it wasn’t too obvious, which I liked. I couldn’t stand men who looked buff to the point of narcissism and there was definitely nothing narcissist about Dave. It was the sort of chest that would feel hard and strong when pressed against it, but you could find comfort there too. It was practical, and let’s face it, I was a practical girl.

  Dave turned around and twisted so he could point to the tattoo on the back of his shoulder blade.

  “Car?” Pete asked.

  We saw Dave shake his head and he pointed higher up on his shoulder.

  “Oh, I know,” I said, then shouted, “Fire!”

  “Where?” Christa cried.

  I started laughing and so did everybody else. I shook my head at her. “No, silly,” I gasped. “The flames on Dave’s shoulder. His tattoo.”

  Dave had turned around and was shaking his head too.

  I heard Max mutter ‘Bubbles’ under his breath.

  Christa turned pink. “Oh, sorry. Right, of course.” She looked over at Dave. “Seriously though, that pointy stuff you were drawing before was fire? Don’t take this the wrong way but—”

  He made a circular motion in the air to indicate that there was more.

  Christa’s face fell. “Damn. Fire something, huh?”

  Dave picked up the marker again and started drawing.

  “Fire man,” I announced.

  He threw the pen onto the coffee table and nodded in relief, then reached over and picked up his t-shirt.

  “Dude, why not just try drawing a picture of a fire truck or fire station or something?” Pete asked.

  To my disappointment – which I hopefully did a good job of covering up – Dave shrugged his t-shirt over his head. “That would’ve made sense, hey? Except once I got going on the flame thing, I kind of got stuck on it. You know how it is. Plus, the girls seemed to be enjoying themselves.” He looked over and gave us a lopsided grin.

  “Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Max. “Better not mean Christa’s asking me to get a tattoo on our wedding night.”

  She grinned. “Well, now that you mention it …”

  “Not a chance.”

  We all stood and started clearing up, then Maddy directed everyone to their rooms.

  “It’s only ten thirty,” James whispered to me, as I passed him at the top of the stairs. “I could come to your—”

  “No!” I hissed, then forced myself to smile. “I’m tired. You know how it is. We have to get up really early to get our hair and make up done.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, have a good night.” He gave me one last hopeful look and then started walking down the stairs while I hurried down the hallway toward my bedroom.

  “What was all that about?”

  “Oh!” I turned and bumped hard into Dave’s chest. “Sorry. What?” I endured an inner struggle to remove my palms from his pecs because now I had visual confirmation about the practicality of his chest.

  He looked like he was laughing at me but as far as I was concerned his chest was no laughing matter.

  “With James,” he said. “Is everything OK?”

  “Fine, fine.” I waved one of my hands around in the air that was still having a hard time doing what it was told. I dropped it to my side when I realized how silly I looked. “Just bridal party stuff.”

  Dave nodded, and we started walking toward our bedrooms. When we reached my door I turned to him.

  “Cate?”

  Oh dear. He was standing really close to me and he smelled good. A combination of some sort of spicy aftershave, fresh soap from his shower earlier and I swore he smelled a little bit of Sally too. I wasn’t entirely sure how that was possible nor why the scent of the Mustang would be appealing, and … I was staring.

  “Yes?” I said, trying to grasp onto the thread of our conversation.

  “If he gives you any trouble tonight, just shout out. I’m only next door.”

  I sucked in my breath – like I needed reminding of his proximity. “What? James?” I tried to sound casual.

  “Yeah.”

  “What gave you that idea?” I said.

  His lips twitched. “If you don’t know, then maybe you should lock your door tonight.”

  I scowled. I’d actually been thinking the same thing. “He’s a really nice guy,” I said, feeling I should at least try to defend him.

  “But?”

  I’d rather it was you attempting to creep into my room? No, probably not a good idea to enlighten him. “It’s not the time or the place.”

  “Which means you’re not that into him.”

  “I didn’t say that!” God, even his self-satisfied smile made my toes tingle.

  “You didn’t need to.”

  “Well, Mr. Perceptive, how about you tell him for me? Maybe you’d do a better job. Obviously I’m far too pleasant for him to get the hint.”

  “Never.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Ha, ha. I’m going to bed.” As much as I was enjoying his company, I couldn’t stand here staring at him lamely all night.

  He didn’t move. “Is that you being pleasant or is it an invitation?”

  “I …” I stared at him at a complete loss for words. One minute he was acting all protective and big brotherly and the next … Well, he was joking. I knew he was joking because of the laughter in his eyes, yet my body wanted to believe it was something more.

  “Did anyone ever tell you you’re fun to tease?”

  “I’m beginning to think you would have been a pain in the neck brother, you know that?”

  “Lauren would probably agree with you.”

  “I’m going to bed,” I repeated. “Alone.”

  Dave smirked. For a split second I imagined wiping that smirk off his face with a kiss and then caught myself.

  “Good night, Dave.”

  “Night, Cate. I’m right next door if you need me,” he said easily.

  I nodded and closed the door. I heard him go into his bedroom and eased my back against the wall with a long exhale.

  “Thanks for that, Dave,” I muttered to myself. It wasn’t like I’d needed reminding.

  Then I turned and examined the door handle.

  “Excellent,” I said, and locked it.

  I wasn’t sure if it was to keep James out or keep me in.

  Chapter 25

  “Oh, no!” I wailed. “No, no, no, no!”

  This couldn’t be happening. This absolutely could not be happening.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the full length mirror. This was a disaster. Everyone knew that weddings never went exactly to plan and you just had to run with it, but that was before the not going to plan part affected me quite so directly.

  I twisted and tried to view the back of the dress in the hope it would look better from that angle.

  “No,” I moaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Maybe Christa would let me wear one of the summer dresses I had packed? Yes, that could work. Then I wouldn’t have to wear this, this … piece of navy blue material masquerading as a dress. I mean who truly wore dresses like this? Celebrities. Movie stars. Alright, and Scarlett. She could get away with it. But Cate Harmon, financial planner? Not a chance.

  I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Shit. Oh, who was I kidding? It was probably just Scarlett or Maddy telling me to come and get my make up done and I was going to have to show them anyway. I turned around to face the door and awaited their reaction.

  “Cate? Is everything alright? I heard—”

  “Dave!” I squealed and crossed my arms over my chest to cover myself, then avoided eye contact out of sheer embarrassment. “I thought you were Scarlett.” Don’t panic, Cate. You can do this. It’s entirely possible to have a conversation in this dress, you just have to act like everything’s normal.

  “Ah, no. Not Scarlett,” I heard him say. “You sounded upset so I just thought I’d check and see if everything was alright?”

  I turned and started to
go through the bag on the bed, pretending to look for something. “Fine. I’m fine. Just a little hiccup with the dress but we can make it work.”

  “What’s wrong with the dress?”

  His voice sounded different, deeper and husky, and I finally looked up.

  I lost the ability to speak momentarily. His eyes were on me. Or more accurately roaming over me and they appeared to be lingering on my chest area. I looked down and immediately straightened. You couldn’t wear a bra with this dress. Its supportive qualities weren’t great which was fine if you were someone like Scarlett who was petite, but me? Not so much. Think side boob and lots and lots of two-sided tape required but I hadn’t got that far yet.

  I waited until Dave’s eyes were on my face again and my heart rate had settled to more reasonable pace. “It’s the wrong dress, if you must know.”

  Dave stepped into the room. “The wrong dress?”

  I threw up my hands in frustration. “Yes!” I said, exasperated. “This was supposed to be Scarlett’s dress but somehow, God knows how, they’ve given me the same one.”

  Dave swallowed and his golden eyes, which seemed darker than usual, dropped to my body again. “Please don’t hit me when I say this, but Scarlett’s dress wouldn’t fit you. Would it?”

  “You got that right.” Wasn’t so pleasant today, was I? “I’m betting the dress shop thought we were wearing the same thing so they gave me the right size, but the wrong damn dress.”

  I turned to stare at myself in the mirror again. “I can’t wear this! I mean look at it. I’m practically falling out of it.” I looked at my reflection in dismay. Usually I didn’t give too much thought to my figure. I’d long ago accepted that both Christa and Scarlett were petite and Maddy was blessed with an exquisitely tall, perfectly proportioned figure. Me? I was just normal, I supposed. I wasn’t overweight, but I wasn’t a waif either as this dress was so helpfully reminding me. The sheer navy blue fabric – we’d managed to convince Scarlett to go with something other than black for a change, and dark blue was as adventurous as she’d go – clung to the full curve of my hips. My boobs … well, we’d already covered those, or uncovered them if we were getting technical. And then there was the back of the dress. It mirrored the plunging neckline at the front but went even farther, barely finishing at the top of my buttocks.