Christian (The Casanova Club Book 11)

by Ali Parker

  I beamed. My cheeks burned. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “If you lived here year-round, I’d be fat.”

  “Lies.”

  He shook his head and chewed his second bite. He washed it down with a sip of wine. “No, really. I’ve never had anything like this before. Is this a family recipe?”

  I nodded. “Yep. My grandmother’s.”

  “So delicious. Like my woman.” He winked.

  I giggled and shook my head at him. “Stop it.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  We ate in warm, fuzzy company. My heart was full, and my mind was distracted by the man before me. No dark thoughts about my father’s health or the condition of my relationship with my family penetrated my mind. Neither did thoughts of the other Casanova men.

  In this moment, it was only me and Christian.

  And I liked it that way. The little things like a home-cooked meal at the end of the day were what real life was all about, and I could very easily see real life with this man. I had a hunch he could see it with me too, but neither of us had the nerve to speak up about it.

  That might have been common sense because technically, I wasn’t allowed to express any feelings of love, as per the contest rules, and Christian would be really putting himself out there if he confessed his feelings only to receive nothing in response.

  It was a harsh competition, after all.

  After dinner, we cleaned up together and loaded the dishwasher. Christian sprayed me with soapy water in the sink, and I sprayed him back, soaking the front of his shirt. He quickly shrugged out of it and set to pulling my dress off my shoulders and yanking it down. His eyes widened when he saw the lingerie.

  “Look at you,” he breathed.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Like it?” His eyes slid from my breasts to my eyes. “Piper, you’re beautiful.”

  “And I’m yours for the night,” I whispered. “I was thinking we could take it to the jacuzzi outside.”

  Christian’s smile was criminal. “Is this waterproof?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, tracing a finger over his bare, swollen chest. “I suspect we’re going to ruin it anyway.”

  Chapter 20

  Christian

  It was difficult to help Piper with the dinner party preparations on the last Saturday of the month. Our last Saturday together.

  I tried to listen to what she needed me to do. And I tried to follow through.

  But she was distracting.

  Terribly distracting.

  She was wearing a black knee-length dress that fit her like a second skin on the top. The sleeves were long and made of lace, and the dress fell away at her hips, showing off her narrow waist and making her legs look ten miles long. The black heels she wore played a role in that, too.

  Her hair was down, softly curled, and pinned back on the sides. Silver earrings dangled in her ears, and her makeup was minimal and flawless.

  “Christian,” she said, bracing herself against the kitchen island and staring blankly at me.

  “Sorry?”

  She nodded at the plate of appetizers in front of me: slices of yam topped with cinnamon and pecans that were supposed to be in the oven. “Are you going to drizzle the maple syrup on those and put them in the oven, or what? People will be here soon.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I keep getting distracted.”

  She arched a dramatic eyebrow at me. “Distracted?”

  I gestured at her. “Did you have to wear something so sexy? I mean, I can’t catch a break. Every time I look at you, I get all hot under the collar. It’s making my jeans pinch.” I tugged at the waistband of my pants.

  Piper laughed at me. “Maybe you need bigger jeans.”

  “The well endowed do suffer, my dear. Don’t make fun.”

  “Oh please.”

  “Oh please, is right,” I said, walking around the island to join her on her side. I ran a hand up the middle of her back and stopped at the nape of her neck. She pressed back into my touch, lifting her chin and turning her face to the side to gaze up at me. “I can’t stop thinking about our time in the hot tub the other night. You in that sexy little number. Dripping wet. In more ways than one.”

  I dragged my finger along to the front of her throat, where I moved down to the neckline of the dress. Her cleavage swelled as she took a deep, shaky breath.

  “Christian.”

  “We have to do that again before you leave.”

  “That could be arranged.”

  “Tonight. After everyone leaves. You. Me. Jacuzzi. And a bottle of wine.” I leaned in close to press my mouth to her ear. “And your legs spread apart for me.”

  She shivered.

  “Does that sound like a plan to you?”

  Piper’s skin gave way to goosebumps beneath my touch, and I knew I had her right where I wanted her. She’d be pining after me all night. And I’d be pining for her. And when we finally met in the hot water when all the guests left, the release would be euphoric.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “But on one condition.”

  “Anything,” I said.

  She bit her bottom lip, knowing it drove me wild, and pressed her ass back, rolling her hips and teasing my already swollen cock. Then she stopped, and her lips curled in a smirk. “Put those damn yams in the oven.”

  I threw my head back and laughed.

  Piper slipped out from between me and the counter and resumed chopping vegetables for a salad. She watched me as I went back to do as I was told. I’d do whatever she wanted me to do, especially if her body was the prize at the end.

  My phone vibrated on the counter when I slid the tray of yams into the oven. Piper told me to answer it, and she set the timer.

  It was Dwayne.

  “Hey, man, what’s going on?” I asked.

  “I’m at the store looking at booze.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, not sure what he wanted from me.

  “And I’m holding a bottle of shiraz and a six pack.”

  I laughed. “Dwayne, just buy the damn beer. I’ve never seen you drink a glass of wine in my life, and I’d rather you have something you like than what Heather told you to bring.”

  Dwayne let out an exasperated sigh. “I just don’t want to be the frat guy showing up with beer.”

  “You won’t be the only person who likes beer.”

  “I’d take a beer,” Piper chimed in.

  I shot her a look as she sprinkled finely chopped candied pecans over her spinach and arugula salad. “You hear that, Dwayne? Piper will take a beer.”

  Dwayne’s voice rose. “She will?”

  “Sure. And so will I. So buy your damn beer and get here already. And ignore Heather. She’s just—I don’t know. She likes things a certain way. And if this was her house, I’d say bring wine. But it’s not. Is it?”

  “No.”

  “Put the wine down,” I said.

  Dwayne laughed. “All right. All right. I’m walking away from the shiraz. See you in twenty.”

  I hung up the phone.

  “What was that all about?” Piper asked as she tossed the salad with a pair of metal tongs I didn’t even know I owned. “Why is he so bent out of shape about buying beer?”

  “Heather told him it wasn’t an appropriate beverage to bring to a dinner party.”

  Piper’s brow furrowed. “Since when?”

  “Beats me. She’s just a particular sort of person. She likes things the way she likes them, and when people try to change things up, she gets all flustered and out of sorts.”

  “Something as simple as bringing beer in lieu of wine?”

  “Yep.”

  Piper frowned. “Seems like a good way to be stressed out all the time about stuff that doesn’t really matter.”

  “You could say that again. But she’s a good person. Big heart. Great professor. Just…”

  “Particular?”

  I smiled. “Yeah.”

  “That’s not the worst t
hing to be,” Piper said as she covered the salad with saran wrap and tucked it into the fridge. Then she stopped with her hands on her hips and looked around, pausing on certain things and counting down on her fingers. She was going through a list of everything we needed to do, no doubt. Then she nodded decisively. “I think we’re good to go. Dinner will be done in about an hour, and if there are some stragglers, we’ll just keep it warm in the oven.”

  “Sounds great.”

  The doorbell rang.

  Piper turned pink. “Why am I suddenly nervous?”

  “Don’t be.” I moved to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to dazzle everyone just like you dazzle me. And it’ll be fun. We’ll get a few drinks in everyone, and we’ll all have a great time.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “Do you mind getting the door? I just want to freshen up.”

  “You look perfect.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, but I just need a minute.”

  I nodded. “Go ahead. Take your time.” I gave her a kiss and rubbed her shoulder, and we both made our way out of the kitchen to the foyer. She hooked a right and hurried up the stairs, and I waited until she rounded the corner on the second level to open the door.

  I pulled it open to reveal Heather holding a tray covered in tinfoil and a bottle of wine with a gold label, and I grinned. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

  Heather flashed me a blinding white smile. “The best part of the evening, I hope you mean.”

  “Sure, sure,” I said, holding the door open for her and stepping aside so she could come in. When I closed it behind her, I turned and found her shrugging out of her navy-blue jacket. She held it out to me, and I hung it in the closet, casting a look over my shoulder at the skin-tight dress she had on.

  I didn’t recall Heather having a body like that. Her dress showed off toned arms and legs and a bit of knee. It was modestly cut at the collar, but it was so tight I could see the outline of her bra underneath. She shook her hair out and looked up at the chandelier.

  “Wow,” she breathed, the light dancing in her eyes. “That’s a beautiful piece.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Then I snapped back into my manners and took the tray off her hands. “Come with me. What can I get you? A glass of wine? Water?”

  “Wine sounds lovely,” Heather said, pausing at the kitchen island.

  I set her tray down and went about opening a bottle of wine. I poured her a glass and was very aware of her catlike stare on my hands.

  She licked her lips. “Where’s your lady friend?”

  “Piper?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “She’s upstairs. She’ll be down shortly.”

  “Oh good. I’m glad I have the chance to see her again. She’s a lovely thing, isn’t she?”

  I looked up at Heather. She was still smiling.

  “Yeah, she is. We’ve gotten along great this month. I’ll be sad to see her go.”

  “It is a shame that it had to end so quickly,” Heather said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You know,” she said, coming around to my side of the island. “If you need someone to—I don’t know—keep you company once she’s gone, I have plenty of free time on my hands. We could go for coffee. Or something.”

  “That might be nice,” I said.

  Heather took the wine glass I held out to her. Her full bottom lip left a dark pink imprint on the rim, and she made a pleased sound in the back of her throat. “Delightful.”

  “Want to sit?” I offered, gesturing at the living room.

  “This is fine,” she said.

  I nodded and sipped my wine.

  Heather tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear. “Christian, can I ask you something? I hope it’s not weird. It’s a girl thing.”

  “Sure.”

  She bit her bottom lip and looked down at her dress. “I brought a cardigan with me. Should I put it on?”

  I felt my eyebrows drawing together. What was she asking me?

  She batted her lashes at me. “Christian?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Should I put on a cardigan? Is this dress a little too much for a work gathering? I don’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

  “The wrong idea?” I cocked my head to the side.

  She rolled her eyes at me and laughed softly. “God, you are dense sometimes. I’m asking if this dress is too revealing to wear to a work function.” She held out her arms in invitation for me to look her over.

  I couldn’t tell if this was a game. Was this what she wanted? For me to look? Or was I reading too much into this?

  Regardless, I looked. “It seems perfectly suitable to me.”

  Heather swirled her wine around in her glass. “Excellent. I just bought it, and I really didn’t want to cover it up.”

  Chapter 21

  Piper

  I spritzed a bit of perfume on my wrists, rubbed them together, dabbed them on the sides of my neck, and then stared at my reflection in the mirror above Christian’s dresser.

  It was go time.

  A few people had arrived since I went upstairs. I’d heard the doorbell ring, and I’d heard the woman downstairs who arrived first—Heather, no surprise there—hurry to answer it. Christian’s voice joined her at the front door shortly after each guest was greeted, and I wondered if I wasn’t the only one here playing house with him tonight.

  Heather was clearly into him. Very into him. Not that I could blame her.

  He was the perfect male specimen in every sense of the word, not to mention a gentleman, and it made sense that someone else would be vying for his affection.

  It didn’t bother me.

  At least, I told myself it didn’t bother me. I had no right to be bothered. I was in an open relationship with eleven other men, after all. Two of which I hadn’t even spent any real time with, who I would be courting for the next two months after Christian. I couldn’t fault him for having someone interested in him.

  But even my sensibilities were beginning to weaken.

  She was pretty. And smart. And when I was gone, she was the one who’d be here. Taking up space in his life, being present, grazing his hand over coffee in the staff room and—

  “Stop it,” I growled at my reflection.

  I had no right to feel any semblance of jealousy. No right at all.

  I left the bedroom before my brain had time to sabotage me further. I made my way down the stairs, my heels clicking on every step, and rounded the bend in the foyer to join the others in the kitchen.

  Heather, Dwayne, and another man in his mid-forties I didn’t know were there.

  Heather, of course, was standing beside Christian, who had his wine in one hand and was laughing about something Dwayne had just said. She saw me before anyone else did.

  And she made a stand.

  Maintaining eye contact with me, she lifted one arm and rested it on Christian’s shoulder. With her outstretched hand, she twirled her hair and laughed sweetly at the conversation transpiring around the kitchen.

  Christian didn’t seem to notice her intrusion on his space. If he did, it didn’t bother him.

  I smiled back at her. There was no sense in letting on that she was getting under my skin. After all, I’d dealt with worse than her over the course of the year. Asher’s mother, for starters. And Cooper himself. I knew how to deal with an asshole.

  I strode into the kitchen and introduced myself to the only person in the room I didn’t know. I held out my hand. “Hello, I’m Piper.”

  The man had salt and pepper hair and a clean-shaven face. He had a weak jaw and thick-framed glasses and a very warm smile. “Piper,” he said, his voice as smooth as molasses. “Christian has told me a lot about you. I’m Stewart Price. I work in the admissions department.”

  I was relieved to hear he had a career I understood the title of. I was worried I’d be meeting a lot of professors tonight who spent their lives teaching subjects I’d nev
er heard of.

  I smiled graciously. “Mr. Price, thank you for coming. And I hope he hasn’t told you anything embarrassing about me.” I shot Christian a playful look.

  Christian chuckled. Heather let her elbow fall from his shoulder.

  Stewart chuckled too. “Nothing embarrassing, my dear. Not at all. Only good things. We’ve all been told you’re quite the cook.”

  “Have you now?” I asked. “I’m flattered. Though not surprised. Christian has been threatening that I’m going to make him outgrow all his clothes while I’m here.”

  Dwayne lifted his bottle of beer. “He could do with a few more pounds. Maybe the ladies would spare me a second glance when I’m with him if he did. Keep working your magic in the kitchen, Piper.”

  I went around the island and opened the fridge, where I pulled out one of Dwayne’s IPAs. “Mind if I have one?”

  Dwayne beamed at me. “Go ahead. Have as many as you like.”

  I could have stopped there. I could have reeled it in and been content with the way I’d come into the room. But there was a little voice in my head daring me to take it just a tiny step further.

  So I did.

  I pressed the neck of the beer bottle to the edge of Christian’s counter so the cap sat just on top of it. Then I knocked it down with my other hand, popping the cap off. It rolled across the counter, and I snatched it up and then tilted my head back and took a long swig.

  Christian held my gaze as I did so. Heat burned in his eyes. Lust. Want.

  That’s right, I thought. Look at me.

  I licked my lips when I was done and set the beer down. “After an afternoon in the kitchen, sometimes a beer is exactly what you need.”

  “Hear, hear,” Dwayne agreed. He and Heather exchanged a stormy look.

  I walked languidly to the stove and pulled the door open. The yams were perfectly browned, so I pulled them out, turned off the timer, and began finishing them off with goat cheese before plating them.

  The men hovered around me like flies on shit.

  “What’s that?” Dwayne asked.

  “Yams,” I replied, swatting at his hand as he reached for one.