The Best Man's Proposal (The Hamilton Sisters)

by Wynter Daniels

  “Niki.”

  Her cheeks were on fire. “Hmm?”

  “It’s right here.” He gestured toward the store. The sign over the window read Leather Love.

  Chuckling, she shook her head. “Sounds kinky.”

  “You asked for it.” Grant held the door for her. “Just remember, less is more here.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Which caused a flush to travel up his face. “Uh—I didn’t mean… Ah, Christ.”

  “I said edgy, not streetwalker, Grant.” She folded her arms across her chest, trying not to dread the results of squeezing her J-Lo booty into anything leather and shiny. “Not sure I’m feeling this place.”

  He flicked a hand at the window display. “What I meant to say was that my advice is to pick out one or two pieces here and blend them in with more conservative pieces. Rather than going full-on Harley mama.”

  She laughed, enjoying his verbal squirming. “I get it. Okay, let’s go.” It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the low lighting as she went inside.

  A busty blonde in too-tight leather pants and a green halter top that she was spilling out of nodded at her, but when the woman saw Grant, her face lit up. “Hey there. How are you?”

  “Afternoon,” he said. “The lady is looking for a few outfits.”

  “Ladies’ wear is on the right. Anything in particular?” The saleswoman continued staring at Grant with unabashed interest.

  Niki didn’t want to think about why that bothered her. “I’ll know it when I see it,” she told the blonde.

  “Let me know if you need help.” The saleswoman’s tone held about as much warmth as a lemon Popsicle.

  Niki found several items to try on, all of them black—a leather-front halter top with a choker-style collar, a short leather skirt, a corset-style vest, and a form-fitting, side lace-up dress with silver wings painted on the front, and a few T-shirts. There wasn’t a single thing she’d have ever picked out for herself in the past, but she had to break out of her comfort zone if she ever hoped to leave Miami.

  In the dressing room she pulled in a breath of courage and peeled off her jeans. For her first selection, she put on the most conservative outfit—a leather skirt with a cut-off T-shirt that exposed her midriff.

  As she stepped into a pair of spiked-heel black ankle boots with silver studs she wished her jitters would go away. The skirt was shorter than even Lucy would wear. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered under her breath. Yanking open the door, she took a few steps out of the fitting room and hid behind a rack of leather jackets.

  Where was Grant?

  Female laughter drifted to her ears. Following voices to the front of the store, she found the saleswoman standing mere inches from Grant. The blonde said something Niki couldn’t make out, then the woman playfully touched his arm and giggled.

  Ugh.

  When Grant noticed Niki his gaze slid over her body, and for a moment, she saw something familiar glint in his eyes—desire. She didn’t want to think about why that made every inch of her tingle.

  The saleswoman folded her arms over her chest. “The skirt comes in a larger size.”

  Grant shook his head. “Fits like it was made for her.”

  His words kicked up not only her pulse but her confidence as well. She met the blonde’s stare. “Yeah, I’ll take this outfit.”

  “Anything I can get for you?” the blonde asked Grant. Was it just Niki or was the saleswoman’s tone a bit suggestive?

  “Don’t think so.” He reached up to rub some tension out of the back of his neck and threw Niki a silent, subtle plea for rescue, an expression she picked up on right away.

  But what to do? It wasn’t like she could thunk the blonde over the head and drag her into the back… Oh, wait.

  She approached Grant, moving well into his personal space. He didn’t step away. “Back in a flash, sweetheart.” She stood on her toes and brushed her lips across his beautifully shaped mouth in a quick kiss.

  “Sure,” he breathed, looking as stunned as she felt.

  She blinked rapidly in an effort to clear her head, then turned on her heel and returned to the dressing room. Staring in the mirror, she touched a finger to her lips but refused to let her thoughts linger any further on that silly kiss. Just friends, she reminded herself.

  For the hell of it, she went for the most revealing item she’d chosen—the black side-lace dress. On its own, it screamed floozy, but with the right accessories, it could be amazing.

  As she slipped into it, she realized the laced sides’ purpose was to show skin all the way down, which meant she’d have to wear it with nothing underneath. Sucking in a breath for courage, she rolled her panties off.

  Tense as a spring, she returned to the sales floor to find Grant. On her way, she grabbed a pair of leather heels with ankle laces that were a perfect match for the dress.

  Grant came out from behind a rack of men’s jackets. His mouth formed the word “wow” but nothing but air came out. His eyes spoke volumes. The green turned dark as sin as he looked her over from head to toe. Her mind flashed back to the once-over Tristan had given her. This one was way better.

  Heat washed over her. “I’ll take the dress and the shoes,” she called to the saleswoman, who’d returned to the counter area.

  Grant nodded, and she got the distinct impression that if he’d tried to speak, he wouldn’t have been able to get out a single word.

  Beaming, she returned to the fitting room to dress. She checked the price tags. The money Tristan gave her would cover the two outfits, but her boss had bought her a lot more than clothes and shoes.

  She was going to rock this job. In fact, she’d kill it. She’d make herself over into the most kick-ass personal assistant he’d ever seen. And soon enough, she’d be heading to one of Europe’s most fabulous cities.

  She ignored the twinge she felt at the thought of leaving Grant and all the possibilities she could have sworn she’d seen in his eyes behind.

  Chapter Three

  Grant took Niki’s purchases out of his saddle bag and carried them inside the house for her when they got home. After Leather Love, she’d dragged him to an upscale boutique in Bal Harbour, where she’d picked out a cashmere turtleneck, some chunky costume jewelry, and an embroidered burgundy and black corset that left little to the imagination, none of it anything he’d ever imagined Niki wearing.

  His ex-wife had completely switched up her style for her boss. She’d insisted her new look was just her way of fitting into the office, but not long after, he discovered that many of the nights he’d been at the station, she’d been having sleepovers with the scumbag who’d suggested the changes.

  Niki wasn’t Carrie, but the similarity of their work makeover was hitting a nerve, and not in a good way.

  “Thanks for taking me shopping.” She climbed onto a stool at the breakfast bar and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m whipped now, but my girls will be over in a while to work on phase two.”

  Grant set her purchases on the sofa. “Phase two?” Did he even want to know?

  “Hair and makeup. Lucy texted me that she and Amy can do it tonight.” Yawning, she rested her head on the granite counter.

  He closed the distance between them and massaged her neck. Why did she have to smell so good? And have such soft skin and silky hair? Touching her was dangerous, yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

  She let out a pleasured moan that reminded him of the sounds she’d made in bed. If he didn’t quit, he’d end up with a hard-on. In front of her friends. He forced himself to step away.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him and shot him a questioning look, obviously wanting him to continue.

  His cat meowed, giving him an excuse for walking away. “Sorry. I should feed Sarge.”

  Niki sighed as she stood up. “I guess I’ll take a shower before my makeover team arrives.”

  Unbidden, a picture of her naked body filled his brain. He coughed and willed the image away.

  “Wo
uld you send them to my room if they get here before I’m finished?” she asked.

  “Um, yeah, sure.”

  “You’re the best,” she called over her shoulder.

  No, he wasn’t. He was a shit for lusting after his friend’s sister-in-law. Her physical attributes had been evident before, but it was all the other stuff that had come as a surprise since she’d moved in. Like the tenderness with which she petted Sarge, and the sound of her voice as she sang along to old show tunes, how she played air guitar to classic rock and roll songs. The way she smelled and looked when she walked out of the shower or when she first woke up in the morning. She’d only been there for a few days, and she’d already worked herself under his skin.

  Not to mention the fact that she’d quickly become the star of his every erotic dream. Like the one he’d had last night.

  Wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing else, she’d sauntered toward him, all long legs and thick, gorgeous hair. She’d unfastened one button after another until the shirt hung open. Her breasts were high and firm, her nipples deep scarlet and erect.

  Licking her lips, she crooked her index finger at him. “Kiss me.” She spoke softly, her voice thick with desire.

  Unable and unwilling to resist, he closed the space between them then slid the shirt off her shoulders. It dropped to the floor, pooling at her feet. Pulling her into his arms, he allowed his hands free rein over her naked body, felt her silky skin as she hissed in a breath.

  The doorbell shook him out of the daydream. Great, the front of his jeans was now bulging. He really had to knock it off. He’d promised her he would keep their relationship on the friend level. Plus, they were both moving in different directions, literally. And she hated his farm, sight unseen. If there was one thing he’d promised himself, it was that his next relationship, when he was ready for one, would be with someone who didn’t hate the farm.

  Call him old-fashioned, but he loved the place, with its 100-year-old fences that always needed fixing, the chickens who loved to lay eggs anywhere but the spiffy, warm coop he’d built them together with his father, and the trees behind the house that grew the sweetest, juiciest apples he’d ever tasted.

  Fresh air, warm sun, four actual seasons, a real New England fall. No horrendous summer heat waves. No crazy Florida drivers. No house spiders the size of your palm. Just hard, uncomplicated, satisfying work and a place that ran in his blood.

  He really had to stop falling for women who wanted the exact opposite of what he did.

  Like Niki.

  At the rate he was going, he’d have to advertise on FarmersOnly.com when he finally was ready to date again.

  As he went to the door, he untucked his shirt, which thankfully hung low enough for shield. That done, he let in Niki’s makeover troupe.

  “Hey, you.” Lucy gave him a peck on his cheek as she brushed past him, carrying a dozen slinky dresses and skirts. “I raided the back of my closet.”

  Amy came inside next, her arms loaded down with what appeared to be pink tackle boxes that looked as if they belonged to a doll his cousins used to play with. “Hi, Grant. How are you?”

  “Wonderful.” Much as he liked them all, he wished they weren’t there to transform Niki into whatever it was that Tristan idiot wanted her to be.

  Dex entered the house, bearing a large box overflowing with sparkly shoes and accessories. He set his burden on the coffee table. “How’s it going, bro?”

  Grant shook his hand. “Looks like a bunch of pixies are moving in.”

  Lucy chuckled. “We’re my little sister’s styling team.”

  Grant took drink orders and went to the kitchen. Just after he pulled a couple bottles from the fridge, he turned and practically crashed into Niki. In a tank top and shorts, with her hair in a ponytail and her face scrubbed clean, she was the way he liked her best—just herself.

  “May I?” At his nod, she snatched one of the beers from him and cracked it open, knocking back a healthy swallow. “I sure hope Tristan will like whatever Lucy and Amy do to me.” She handed him back the bottle with most of the contents still inside.

  I like you now. His gut clenched, and he gritted his teeth to keep from saying the words out loud. “What’s on the inside doesn’t change with some different clothes or a new hair style. You’ll always be you.”

  “You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better,” she said, giving him that smile that undid him.

  After taking a moment to compose himself, he joined Dex at the sofa and handed him the unopened beer.

  “Mind if I hang with you while the ladies do their thing?” Dex asked.

  “Long as you don’t mind watching the Marlins kick the Mariners’ ass.” He took a seat and switched on the TV. “Probability-wise, I’m sure that’s the way the game will shake out, but it’s still fun to watch.”

  The women disappeared down the hall, leaving in their wake a cloud of sweet, feminine smells and high-pitched laughter.

  “I wonder if we’ll recognize Niki by the time they’ve finished with her,” Dex said as he straightened the magazines on Grant’s coffee table.

  Grant frowned. “Her boss is an asshole for asking her to change.”

  “I agree.” Glancing down the hallway, Dex lowered his voice. “Lucy suspects Niki has a thing for him. That worries her sick because Niki’s still nursing a broken heart. Unlike my wife, Niki’s all soft and mushy on the inside.”

  A Marlins batter jogged to first base, but Grant couldn’t muster any excitement. The thought of Niki dating her boss had his temples throbbing. Even though it would likely solve all the hopeless sexual tension between them. “Not a lot of women are as tough as Lucy.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Although Niki’s a powerhouse in her own right. Her strength is…quieter than Lucy’s.”

  Dex put his feet up on the ottoman. “Quieter. Yeah, that’s not a word I’d ever use to describe any of Lucy’s qualities.” He took a long pull on his beer, set it down, and leveled a stare at Grant. “Niki’s an attractive woman, too. Poor kid’s had her heart stomped on too much for someone her age. Hell, for any age. You might have noticed that my wife is quite protective of her little sister.”

  Grant swallowed. Dex’s stare silently conveyed that he felt the same about Niki, given her importance to the woman he loved. “As Lucy should be. But she has nothing to worry about. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Dex tapped his bottle to Grant’s. “I appreciate that. You’re a good friend.”

  Not as good a friend as Dex thought. Or else he never would have given in to his raging hormones the night of the wedding.

  Dex lowered his voice. “Lucy sees her little sister’s love life debacles as merely bad luck, but I have a different opinion. We all make choices, punch buttons in one column or another. Whether she’s conscious of it or not, Niki keeps hitting the lever in the emotionally-unavailable-man slot, and she gets her feelings hurt when things don’t work out the way she wants.” He settled deeper into the couch.

  Was that what had drawn Niki to him that first night? He’d been radiating “emotionally unavailable”?

  “But don’t worry. I assured Lucy that Niki’s not your type anyway.”

  Grant felt as if he might choke for a second. “Me? What do I have to do with—”

  Dex waved away Grant’s concern. “I know Niki’s safe with you because you’re still in woman-hating mode. I said that you’ve lived like a monk since your divorce.”

  Grant squirmed uncomfortably. Yeah, he probably wouldn’t be confiding in Dex about his night with Niki anytime soon.

  “You’re either working all the time or playing softball,” Dex continued, oblivious to Grant’s silent guilt trip. “Eventually, you’ll have to get back out there. But probably not until after you move back to New York, since who needs a long-distance relationship?”

  “Right.” He settled back in his chair, and Dex took it as a sign to start paying attention to baseball.

 
; He tried to keep his mind on the game, but every time he made out the sound of Niki’s laughter over the other two, he couldn’t help himself: he had to glance down the hall to see if she was coming out. The anticipation had all his senses on overdrive.

  “Things okay at work?”

  Dex’s question pulled Grant’s attention back to their conversation. “Sure, fine. Why?”

  Dex eyed him for another moment before returning his gaze to the TV, where a commercial for a steakhouse played. “I don’t know. You seem preoccupied.”

  “Nah, I’m good. What could they be doing back there that’s taking so long?”

  “You afraid they’ll dye your cat’s fur green or something?”

  “Yeah. Leave it to your wife to do that.” Grant chuckled. “She wouldn’t, would she?”

  Dex laughed as he tossed a bottle cap at Grant.

  “Close your eyes, guys.” Amy strode into the living room, followed by Lucy, who thoughtfully grabbed the remote from the coffee table and hit the DVR pause button so they wouldn’t miss any of the game when it came back on. “We present the new and improved Niki Hamilton. Ta da!”

  It was a good thing he recognized the ankle boots Niki had bought earlier in the day, because other than that, nothing about her looked familiar. Her formerly straight black hair was now curly and had bright purple and blue streaks running through. And she had spiky bangs.

  Her white lace camisole looked expensive but wasn’t much bigger than most of the doilies his grandmother used to line her serving plates. The front dipped down to a V that drew his eyes to her generous cleavage. She’d paired it with a white skirt that hugged her perfectly rounded hips, and a black bolero jacket with small silver zippers on the edge of her sleeves and slashing a diagonal over the pockets. Purple and white feather earrings dangled from her ears, and those lovely eyes were now caked with so much black eyeliner that their blue almost disappeared.