Love Her Madly

by Christie Ridgway

  His brows rose.

  Her eyes directly met his, maybe for the first time ever. “Everybody knows about Brody and me. It would be like bringing my gay friend as an escort.”

  Bing’s lips twitched. “Pretty sure nobody thinks my twin is gay.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said, winding a bandage around one slender finger. “Everyone in my family knows we’re just buddies. It’d be humiliating. Like that time I took my brother to the prom.”

  He blinked. “You took your brother to the prom?”

  “Of course not,” she said quickly.

  Too quickly. She was the world’s lousiest liar.

  “Wow.” Bing propped one ankle on his knee. “I know Italian families can be protective, but you couldn’t take a guy to the big dance? Didn’t you go to St. Amelia of the Angels or something like that? Surely the nuns were adequate chaperones.”

  Alexa went mum and took her own sweet time covering the next cut.

  Bing rapped his knuckles on the tabletop to get her attention. “So you’re pulling my leg?”

  “No.” She shot him a quick glance. Two bright spots of hot pink flagged her cheekbones. “Me and Frankie Fudge. We brought our brothers.”

  “Frankie Fudge?”

  “Francesca Fuggiano.” A defiant light entered her eyes as her small chin lifted. “The two fat girls in the senior class asked the only boys who couldn’t say no.”

  “Oh.” What the hell else was he supposed to say to that? Weight wasn’t an issue he wanted to touch with any woman, no matter how gorgeous she was. “Well, if not Brody, find someone else to take with you.”

  “Like who?”

  Bing set both feet on the floor and leaned forward. “I—”

  “Surely not you.” Alarm edged her voice.

  No, not him. It hadn’t crossed his mind, yet she didn’t need to look so fucking appalled by the idea. He was the bad twin, that was given, but he’d never been bad to her.

  Hell, she’d never let him get that close.

  “What has Brody told you about me?” he suddenly demanded.

  “Nothing.” She gathered up the detritus on the table and rose to throw it away.

  Frowning, Bing watched her cross to the trash can beneath the sink. Would his brother really warn her against him?

  But of course Brody would. The other man knew that long ago Bing had calculated his odds of managing the relationship thing, given the dysfunctional examples of their childhood and the clusterfuck that was their eighteenth birthday. Since it hadn’t looked good, he’d moved on with Plan B, which Brody described as “The Swift Bedding and the Even Swifter Goodbye.”

  Still, Bing was always upfront and honest about his intentions, and Christ, didn’t that put him leagues above Alexa’s philandering ex-fiancé?

  She was standing in the middle of the kitchen now, looking everywhere but at him. “Well, thanks for the, um, help. I do need to get back to work.”

  “Will you be able to restrain yourself from strangling your cousin with a length of bridal veil?”

  He was gratified by her small laugh. “Don’t think I won’t be tempted. But I’ll be busy meeting with an engaged couple who’ve hired me to build their website.”

  She did that. From her family’s bridal business she’d carved her own niche. She created sites that friends and families of the potential brides and grooms could check out to inform themselves of the upcoming nuptials. Though Bing didn’t get the appeal, he gave her points for recognizing a need and stepping in to fill it. Word from his bro was she’d expanded into building sites around expectant babies, too, which fit in well with the handmade coming-home-from-the-hospital infant clothes and the heirloom-worthy christening gowns that were a new part of the Alessios’ business platform.

  He stood, assessed her still-flushed face. “Let me get you a bottle of water for the road.” After snagging two from the refrigerator, he put one into her uninjured hand.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” As if making a toast, he lifted his bottle, tapped it against hers. “To Alexa getting whatever she’s been longing for.”

  More color crawled up her neck. “Oh, I don’t know…” She stared at the sweating plastic in her hand, then flicked her gaze at him. “How about you?”

  This close, as close as maybe he’d ever been to her, he could smell her scent. Something the tiniest bit…fruity. Juicy. Sweet.

  His gaze wandered to her mouth as the urge to have her under him surged again. His cock wanted in. “To Bing getting what he’s been aching for.”

  Alexa twitched, then neither one of them moved as he watched her nipples tighten and peak beneath the sunny fabric of her dress.

  Fuck.

  Something shifted in his chest and heaviness pooled in his groin while his cock rose behind the flimsy nylon of his running shorts.

  Fuck!

  He understood now. Finally. Why she avoided him. Why she always kept Brody between them. It was to hide how he aroused her.

  It was her defense against the way he turned her on.

  All the muscles in his body tightened.

  “You should let me do it for you,” he said, not sure if he meant the wedding date shit or something else. Everything else.

  “I really shouldn’t,” she whispered.

  Moving slowly, he reached to pull the bottle from her clasp. He dropped both his and hers to the floor, where they landed with a liquidy squelch and then rolled around, glug-glug-glugging. His gaze found hers, and while he held it, he reached again, this time taking her hand. Her whole arm stiffened, then her fingers went limp in his clasp in a gesture that spoke of…God, how fucking good.

  Submission. She was no longer fighting him, herself, this attraction, at least for the moment anyway.

  The unspoken acquiescence fired his blood, further stiffened his cock, and put his instincts on high alert. His brain was demanding he be careful while his body was clamoring for more contact, deeper contact, plundering kisses and possessive thrusts into anywhere she’d let him take her. He was desperate to taste her on his tongue from mouth to toes and every delectable place in between.

  His ingrained habit of calculating the odds kicked in.

  Chances were, this was more trouble than he bargained for.

  But damn, he didn’t think that would stop him.

  Chapter Two

  As Alexa unwound the last lock of her hair from the curling iron, her doorbell rang. The iron fell from her nerveless fingers to clatter to the countertop and she stared into her wide eyes in the mirror.

  Bing was early! Why was he early?

  Why was he coming at all?

  Swallowing hard, she pressed her hand to her churning stomach and forced herself to exit the small tiled room, though a small—large—part of her wanted to climb into the shower and pull the enclosure door shut behind her. After a few minutes he’d give up and go away, wouldn’t he?

  The bell rang again, just as she reached the door. Hauling in a deep breath, she yanked it open. The air exhaled from her lungs in a loud whoosh of relief.

  “Marty,” she said, taking in the thirty-something man with the thinning hair who was holding a disposable foil pan. “How are you?”

  He smiled, revealing the narrow gap between his front teeth. “I’m very well, thank you. How about yourself?”

  “I’m…” Terrible. Troubled. An idiot of the first order. “…fine. What brings you over?” He lived across the street and three doors down.

  He thrust the pan into her hands. “I’m returning this to you.”

  “Oh, you needn’t have bothered.” She’d sent home with him the last of the spaghetti she’d brought to the neighborhood block party last week. “These pans can be thrown out.”

  His feet shifted on the pavement. “I came by for another reason too.”

  “Oh?” She glanced over his shoulder to see if Bing was coming up the walkway. Though he was nowhere in sight, her stomach twisted again. What was wrong wi
th her? Why had she agreed he could be her wedding events-escort?

  Because he’d been so close. Too close. When she got that near to him she couldn’t think. Then he’d touched her—held her hand!—and her spit had evaporated, her heart had banged against her ribs like a bird trapped behind glass, and she’d babbled something incoherent that he took to mean “yes.”

  Marty cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him. She pasted a pleasant smile on her face. “Your other reason?”

  He waved his hand up and down, indicating her dress, and cleared his throat again. “You look nice.”

  “Thank you.” Sweet Marty. His shyness was sometimes difficult to be around, but she’d had her own painful years and so tried to treat him with extra care. “I like your shirt.”

  He looked down at the plaid, short-sleeved sport shirt. “My mother bought it for me.”

  “Of course she did.” Marty’s mother was a large part of his conversations. She selected his wardrobe, directed most of his free time, and seemed to have an opinion on everything from the television shows Marty should watch to the kind of car Marty should drive. “How has she been feeling? Did she get over her cold?”

  “Yes,” Marty said, nodding. “On Thursday she used my nasal irrigator and it really made a difference.”

  “Excellent,” Alexa said, forcing away the image his words brought into her head. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “You’re such a nice girl. Mother always says so.”

  “How kind of her.” She tried not to let her antsy-ness show, but as the moments dragged on she wanted to escape behind her closed door in order to dream up some way of escaping the Bing situation. “Is there—is there anything else?”

  “Did you want to go out?”

  Alexa blinked. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “Did you want to go out with me? Mother likes you. We could go to breakfast or something.”

  “Now?”

  He nodded. “Right now.”

  Oh, Marty, she thought. He’d probably been prodded by “Mother” and now he’d have to go home and tell her he’d struck out. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Not right now.” Though she didn’t want to go on a date with Marty any time, she’d have to let him down easier than that.

  “Why not?” He looked perplexed. “I’m free now. You’re dressed up. Mother thinks it’s an excellent idea.”

  “Um…well…” If only she’d been attracted to him instead of to the hunk of man who lived next door. A man who was so beautiful you couldn’t help but want him but who was so untamable you knew you didn’t have what it took to satisfy him. She dropped her gaze to her feet, realizing they were still bare. “You see, I’ve got this previous engagement—”

  “With me,” a deep voice said.

  Alexa watched her toes curl.

  “Sorry about that, Marty,” Bing went on, clapping his large palm on the other man’s back. “The woman is spoken for. You get what I mean?”

  “Spoken for?” Marty echoed.

  “Not spoken for,” Alexa rushed in to correct him. “We just have an um...arrangement.”

  Bing raised one brow. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

  Why did he have to be so damn sexy? His face was sexy, his body, the way he spoke simple words. She could feel her belly tightening and the blood start rushing through her veins. Air evaporated from her lungs and her breasts began to swell. Between her thighs she felt both heavy and empty. God.

  This immediate, visceral reaction had never happened with anyone else. Ever. It was so weird, considering he was a carbon copy of Brody, to whom she felt nothing but affection. She often patted his cheek, rubbed his tight shoulders, bumped him with her hip.

  Thinking of getting anywhere near that close to Bing made her break out in a sweat.

  “Should we get going?” he asked now. “I don’t want to make a bad first impression on your family.”

  Last chance, she thought, swallowing. “If you’re having second thoughts, no problem. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

  “I said yes when you asked me, Alexa.”

  It had been her only semi-smart move in the kitchen. The genius one would have been to exit the instant she realized it was Bing or even the moment after she’d broken the bowl. Her trail of blood might have attracted land sharks or thirsty zombies, but either was definitely safer than Bing Maddox and the lethal sexual appeal that he beamed out of his killer-blue eyes. They were trained on her now and sensation flooded her again, a roiling, heated tide that she could barely keep her chin above.

  Then he smiled at her—knowingly, like he was completely aware that all the dog-paddling in the world wasn’t going to save her from him—and it was as if a big, masculine hand was pushing her under.

  But what a way to go, a female voice inside her whispered as she struggled to breathe. There’s no point in fighting so hard when the price is only pleasure.

  Only pleasure!

  What a crock. The consequences would be much more dire if a woman lost her head and her common sense and let herself believe she could hold as well as have.

  Bing had never so much as met any woman’s family! Sometime during the last year, his twin had dropped that little tidbit into conversation. Bing was so relationship-averse—and so honest about it, to be fair—that he’d never agreed to a meet-the-parents. Big red flag, right?

  But a guidepost too. When Alexa had been trapped in the moment in his brother’s kitchen, mesmerized by his eyes and his touch and his sexual charisma, she’d grasped at the one idea that had pierced the fog of arousal.

  Ask him to Sunday brunch.

  At best, he’d refuse as it crossed the lines he always drew and she could claim that meant he’d never go the distance as her plus-one. At worst, he’d agree to the idea and then be scared off in a single sitting by her loud, nosy, nearly overbearing Alessio relatives. Since he had agreed, Door Number 2 was her only savior left. But really, it was an excellent ace-in-the-hole. Sexy, smoldering Bing Maddox willingly being introduced to the family? He’d never make it over the threshold.

  Optimism buoying her, she felt her lips curve in a smile. “All right. Let’s go.” The sooner they left, the sooner she’d see the end to this uncomfortable, dangerous, ridiculous notion that Bing could be her escort to the wedding events.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” he murmured, hooking one long finger around the strap of her sundress. He tugged her forward, onto the front step, and she felt its warmth seeping through her bare soles. For a moment, she was aware of Marty standing nearby, the expression on his face…something. Shocked? Puzzled?

  Then she only saw Bing, his broad shoulders blocking the sunlight, his face coming nearer and nearer. Flustered, she tried to back away, but his curled finger was the pin and she was the butterfly and then his mouth was as soft as one’s wings as it brushed her cheek. His breath was warm against her ear, raising goose bumps from her nape to her waist. She refused to let them trespass beyond, clenching her thighs and locking her knees.

  “Bing!” she protested, as his lips touched her temple, her eyebrows, the frown line forming between them. “I don’t want—”

  He kissed the rest of her words away. It was light, no tongue, almost—almost brotherly. But it was enough to shut down her protests. To shut down the ability to lie to herself.

  The truth: She would have been devastated if he’d stood her up. And she wanted his kiss. Kisses. More. Anything he’d give her. No matter that she knew she could never have everything he had the power to make her want.

  *

  As Bing followed Alexa in the direction of a side gate leading to her parents’ rear yard, he admonished himself not to think about sex. Or, rather, to stop thinking about sex, which was damn difficult when her luscious little body was wrapped in an abbreviated floral dress. It was sleeveless, near backless, with two straps that crisscrossed to her waist. A bow of the same fabric was positioned right at the center of her spine.

  Still, t
he little-nothing of a garment revealed inches of smooth, golden-toned skin. Fragrant skin, because he’d been made dizzy by her light perfume all the way from their neighborhood to this one. He wanted to discover every place she’d sprayed the stuff: at her wrists, on the nape of her neck, at the small of her back.

  His mouth would tease her in all those places and then—

  Stop thinking with your dick!

  Desperate for distraction, he paused to study the large home set back on an expansive corner lot. Craftsman-style, it looked comfortable in its bones. Bright red geraniums bloomed at the base of the fieldstone foundation and front pillars. The siding was blue-gray, the trim a crisp white, and the front door mimicked the cheerful color of the flowers.

  Alexa glanced up at him. “I understand,” she said. “No problem. No problem at all.”

  “What?” he asked, raising his brows.

  “This is not your thing, I get that. Parents. The family deal.” She waved a hand in the direction of his truck. “Go on home. I’ll catch a ride back to my place later.”

  He blinked. “That’s not—”

  “Really,” she said, smiling at him, suspiciously sunny. “I’ve been expecting it.”

  Shit. She had. The brat.

  After her rant on Friday in his brother’s kitchen and the explosive, though unspoken revelation that their attraction was mutual, he’d surprised them both by his offer to escort her to the wedding events. She’d extended the amazement by her acquiescence to the idea. After a moment of stunned silence, during which, he realized now, her brain had been busily plotting a way to walk it back, she’d invited him to the Alessio Sunday brunch. A practice run, she’d said.

  Hah. A way out, she’d been thinking.

  Instead of packing up and moving out of town overnight, she’d found another manner in which to duck the chemistry that bubbled between them like a sorcerer’s cauldron filled with eye of newt, breath of unicorn, and lingerie of Victoria. Without Brody around to shield her, she’d decided upon a test she was certain Bing would fail.

  Yeah. Brat. But she didn’t know how little he liked to lose.

  Reaching out, he yanked on the ends of her hair. The stuff was silky and strands of it caught on his callus-roughened fingers. “I’ve got this.”