Undercover Engagement by Samanthe Beck
Chapter Ten
Swain steered the Bronco down the bend toward Rawley’s and looked over at Eden. Something was wrong. She was too quiet, and tonight, so far, he’d done nothing to earn the silent treatment. “How’s Alvarez?”
She glanced over and eyed him from beneath the brim of a straw cowboy hat. “Great. “She dropped a little bomb on me, actually.”
He saw his own image reflected back at him in the polarized lenses of her rose sunglasses. Her frosted pink lips tipped up at the corners, and his gut tightened. Everything about her shimmered. Even the band around the hat had gold shot through the pink ribbon. It looked damn fine on her. She’d tucked her hair into it, but loose strands floated in the breeze or twined with her jaw-sweeping feather earrings.
“What kind of bomb?”
She hesitated—just a second—but the little pause left him with the funny feeling she’d changed her mind about what to say. On her response, however, that thought scattered.
“She and Carson are engaged.”
“Kaboom.” Andgood for them. Carson had mooned after Alvarez all through basic. He, personally, didn’t put much stock in true love, but he figured they had as decent a shot as any two people. “Guess Carson finally found his balls and made a move.”
She thwacked his arm with the back of her hand. “Or he waited until she wasn’t involved with someone else and then revealed his heart.”
“Choux, if the love of your life was watching you fuck around with some cheating jackass, would you want him to wait patiently while you got your pride trampled—and possibly your health compromised—or would you want him to step up and say, ‘Stop wasting time with this cheating jackass. I’m the man for you’?”
“There’s a lot of ground between letting someone get fucked over and declaring yourself the right person for them. Sometimes you need to be a friend, say what’s up if you know what’s up, and let the person reach his or her own conclusions. Don’t you think?”
Did she really believe that? He thought about it for a moment. “Nah. But then again, I’ve never watched the love of my life waste time with another guy. I guess I’m about to, though, in a sense. You good with the plan if Kenny and Dobie come to Rawley’s tonight?”
“Sure. Invite them back to our place.” One corner of her mouth pulled down in a small frown. He had the wildest impulse to kiss that tight, pink corner—and any other tight, pink places she cared to share with him. “Hopefully we don’t have to hang around ’til last call to throw out the suggestion.”
“Bored of the bar scene already? Am I gonna have to up my game?”
“Well, yes, and yes, since you ask, but mostly I was thinking of you. After sleeping in your car last night—if that’s really where you were—and then working all day, I’m sure you’re exhausted. You get the bed tonight, and you probably ought to be in it sometime before dawn.”
He laughed as he gave the wheel an easy turn and lowered the visor as the sunset turned the windshield a blazing orange. “If that’s really where I was? For a minute there, I worried you’d started to trust me. I should have known better.”
Her smile turned slightly cynical. “You warned me not to.”
“Here’s another warning for you. I’m a boy in my prime. No matter how rough the day, I can play hard ’til dawn and then some.” Winging a brow her way, he grinned. “Anytime you wanna put my stamina to the test, just say the word.”
He imagined she rolled her eyes at him behind those pink sunglasses. “I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, are we…uh…getting along tonight?”
Just to mess with her, he pretended to misinterpret the question. “I worship the ground you walk on, choux. Always have. Don’t you know that by now?”
“You’re beyond redemption, cooyon. That much I know. But I meant how are we acting tonight? What kind of conversation are we having?”
“Play it any way you want. Like I said yesterday, I’ll—”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ll make it work.” She turned to look out the window, but he felt her irritation.
Three…two…one.
“You know what, Swain?” She swung back around to face him. “Despite your supreme confidence in your abilities and preference to fly by the seat of your pants, that’s not going to work for me. I deserve to be an actual, informed participant in this partnership. Maybe I don’t have your vast experience, but I’m not dead weight.”
No, she wasn’t. And shame on him for making her feel that way. “You’re pulling your weight just fine. I said so last night, and I meant it. We don’t need a script.”
“I’m not suggesting a script. I’m cool keeping things fluid, but—”
“Fluid? Eden, you put together a bed and shower schedule.”
“A schedule keeps everyone on the same page. It sets expectations and avoids confusion. What’s so wrong with that?”
He let out a long breath. “Nothing, I guess. If we had ourselves a page for tonight, I would vote to hammer home to Kenny, Dobie, or anyone else within earshot that you’ve got your heart set on a big, fancy wedding, and I’m feeling the pinch of paying for it.”
She chewed on her lower lip, considering his suggestion. He got a little caught up in the sight of her teeth sinking into her plush, pink lip. His teeth itched to take over the job. Finally, she nodded. “Works for me.”
“Awesome. We got ourselves a page to work from.”
He pulled into Rawley’s and took the parking spot they’d had last night. Once he cut the engine, she turned to him again. “Hey, Swain?”
“Hey, Eden.” He reached over, lifted her hat off her head so her hair tumbled out, then set it back down.
“What would you have done last night if I’d refused to get in the car and go home with you?”
He didn’t want to piss her off, but the truth spilled out before he could think to filter it. “Eden, ma chouchoute, there was, and is, no chance of you going home with anyone ’cept me.”
She frowned at him and nudged the brim of her hat back. “Because we’re supposed to be partners or because we’re supposed to be engaged?”
Telling comment. Was one as fictional as the other? “Because you’re you.” Hoping not to have to explain—not at all sure he could—he released his seat belt and got out of the car.
She leaned across the console. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, choux. You figure it out.”
…
“We had our reception at the Riverview Inn. It was magical.” Eden watched Lou Ann’s excited gaze fly to her husband, sitting beside her in their booth midway along the pub’s far wall. “Wasn’t it, hon?”
Junior nodded and aimed a finger at Swain, who sat next to Eden on the opposite side of the booth. “Swear to the sweet baby Jesus, magical’s the word, man. Ten grand disappeared from my bank account like”—he snapped his fingers—“magic.”
“Shut up, you.” Lou Ann slapped her husband’s meaty shoulder before turning her attention back to them. “They did a spectacular job, despite some hiccups in the schedule.” Her eyes narrowed as someone approached the booth. “Don’t get this slacker to be your DJ. He may or may not show up. Hire Roxy to sing.”
Eden turned to see Kenny and Dobie approaching their booth.
“Hey, now, Lou Ann,” Kenny said, “I apologized, didn’t I? It’s not my fault the Honda crapped out that night. These things happen. But I made it there eventually, and everybody got to do the Hokey Pokey, so all’s well, right?”
Junior reached out, snagged a chair from a nearby table, and spun it around. “Set your butts down, boys. We’re wedding planning.”
Beside her, Swain shook his head. He actually managed to look a little pale under his tan. “Uh-uh. Not at ten fucking grand we’re not.”
Kenny took the chair by Junior while Dobie grabbed another empty seat and placed it at Swain’s side of the table. “Have the wedding here,” he suggested.
“I am not having my wedding in a bar,” Eden said quickly and aimed a finger at Swain. “Don’t even think about it.” To Lou Ann, she said, “I want magical. I’ve got my eye on this gorgeous dress I saw in Cleveland. It’s from the same shop where my sister got her dress, but hers was really plain, if you ask me. Plain and overpriced. The one I like has crystals all along here”—she gestured to the V of her camisole—“and lots of Italian lace. It’s worth every penny.”
“Baby…” Swain started, but Lou Ann cut him off.
“It sounds stunning. Perfect for you. It’d be a crime if you don’t get it.”
“It’d be a crime if she gets it,” Swain corrected. “A crime like credit card fraud. That dress cost…I don’t even remember. My brain blocked it out. Choux, I work construction. We cannot afford the kind of wedding your sister had.”
She started to push her lips into a pout, but Dobie leaned in. “Eden, you’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear. In fact, you look really awesome right now.” He pointed to her shirt. “Get a dress like what you have on.”
She smoothed a hand down the side of the silky top. “Do you like it? It’s new.”
“Baby!” Swain turned an exasperated expression on her. “We talked about this.”
“Ruh-roh,” Junior joked.
Swain took her hand and held it to his chest, rubbing his thumb over the engagement ring. “We’re saving for a wedding, and I’m still paying off this ring. We gotta tighten our belts.”
Now she did unleash the pout—Jesus, did this really work on some men?—and looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Don’t you like the shirt?”
“It’s sexy as fuck, but you’re sexy as fuck stark naked, and that doesn’t cost a dime.”
She pulled her hand away. “I can’t walk down the aisle stark naked, now, can I?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Swain countered, sounding seriously stressed. “But you’ve got loads of clothes at home, plenty of pretty wrapping to show off my treasure. If you want a fancy dress and a big wedding, you’ve gotta stop spending all my money on other shit.”
“You could get a job,” Lou Ann pointed out, “to help pay for the magic. What’s your specialty, girl?”
What was her specialty? Certainly not police work. “I…I worked as a salesperson for this amazing boutique back in New Orleans. Maybe I could find a job like that here…?”
“Hell, no.” Swain cut the notion off with a jerk of his hand. “That job cost you more money than you made.” To the table, he said, “She spent every penny of her paycheck, and then some, on stuff at the shop. I think she was their best customer.”
Incredibly, she felt real indignance on behalf of her alter ego. “You don’t want me to work, but you don’t want to pay for the wedding I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl, not to mention the ceremony that kicks off our lifelong journey as husband and wife. You don’t care to invest in us?”
He winced. “I just want to take those dreams down a notch.” His wince deepened. “Or two.”
“Why don’t you have the wedding and reception at your house?” Kenny suggested. “Totally free venue.”
Her “fiancé” shot her a look. She dodged it and leveled her gaze on Kenny. “Have you seen our rental? I am not getting married in that shithole.”
“Choux—” Swain rubbed her arm. “C’mon now.”
She jerked away and straightened her spine. “No. No. I hate living there. I sure as hell don’t want to get married there.” A slow-tempo song she didn’t recognize flowed from the sound system. A raspy-voiced vocalist insisted his heart was a bar. Good enough. “Let me out.” She pushed her hip against his.
“Don’t get all het up, choux.” He pushed back.
“I said, let…me…out…” She finished each word with a bump of her hip against his.
“Okay. Fuck. Okay.” He slid out of the booth. “Jesus, go—”
“Oh, I will,” she assured him. Sliding the brim of her hat back, she took in the people around the table. “Dobie, do you want to dance?”
“Uh.” He blushed to the roots of his hair and aimed a nervous look at Swain. “I think that would be okay?”
“Uh-uhhhh.” Junior shook his head back and forth vigorously, in a “surreptitious” message to Dobie.
“It’s fine,” Swain said. “Dance some of that cranky out of her. Bring her back when she’s ready to be nice.”
She stuck her tongue out at him as she led Dobie to the almost empty dance floor. Without live music, the action at Rawley’s slowed considerably. She rested her wrists on his skinny shoulders and swayed with him. After a moment’s awkwardness, he looped his arms at the small of her back but kept about a half a foot of space between them. They were nearly the same height, so it wasn’t hard to look him in the eye. “What are y’all doing later?”
He looked dumbfounded. “Uh. Nothing.”
“You and Kenny should come back to our house. I bought a firepit for the porch.” She tipped her chin toward the ceiling, closed her eyes, and rocked her head from side to side, swaying her hair across her bare shoulders. “Drink some beers and convince Swain we should have our reception at the Riverview Inn.”
“Um. Okay. We’ll try. Kenny’s mom is the event planner for the Inn. We could see if she can work you a deal.”
Bringing her head forward again, she looked into Dobie’s sweet, open face, and felt the first stirrings of guilt. “That is so nice of you guys.” Her smile felt brittle. The song switched over to another slow number. She inched closer to him. “Swain loves a deal. It might persuade him to blow the cobwebs off his wallet, for once, and—”
“Mind if I take this one off your hands?”
At the sound of Swain’s voice over his shoulder, Dobie stepped away from her like a thief caught in the act. “Sure, man. Sure. Hey, thanks for the dance, Eden.”
“Thank you,” she called after him as Swain swept her up into the kind of body-to-body slow dance an engaged couple would have. Automatically, she lifted her arms to loop them around his neck and rest her forearms on his linebacker’s shoulders. So drastically different than Dobie’s. Tipping her head back, she looked at him. She expected the cocky grin, but he stared down at her with serious eyes. Drawing her closer, he murmured, “Don’t start feeling sorry for him.”
“You don’t? Goal accomplished, by the way. They’re down to come over. Like we’re friends. But we’re not.” The basic drugstore soap in their shower smelled unaccountably enticing on him. “We’re using them.”
“Goes with the territory. He’s a means to an end—hopefully—and it’s our job to get to that end. It’s nothing personal.”
“That kid is the human equivalent of a beagle. We’re going to feed him, play with him, and then kick him when he least expects it. Kenny, too.”
A wide hand meandered up her back. Long fingers caught the rim of her hat and slid it off her head, held on to it as he resumed their dance. He brushed his lips over her earlobe. “That kid is your age, Eden. He’s a grown man. They both are. My conscience is clear.” He kissed the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe, which caused her to fight off a shiver, and then breathed, “And it won’t be such a hard kick, so don’t feel sorry for them. Feel sorry for me.”
Drawing back, she looked at him. “Why?”
Now came the cocky smile. “My fiancée won’t be happy ’til she bankrupts me.”
“You knew what you were getting into when you hooked up with her.”
“I was distracted by her charms at the time.”
“Oh. But now you’re not?” She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. The military-short style he’d maintained at the academy had grown out some over the last couple weeks. It moved like velvet under her fingertips. His eyelids lowered over those deep blue eyes. He brought his face close to hers.
“You tryin’ to distract me, choux?”
With her lips to his ear, she answered, “I’m the kind of girl who might resort to that sort of tactic to get my way, aren’t I?”
He groaned. “Careful…”
Had he been careful last night? No, he had not. Tonight, the shoe was on the other foot. Time to see how he liked the fit. And if it felt a bit like sweet revenge, well…that was just the bonus of a job well done. “A girl like me would want to remind you of my charms and how hard it is for you to say no to them.” She moved sinuously in his arms, rubbing her body against his.
He groaned again. “Eden.”
She trailed her lips up his throat and along his jaw, enjoying the roughness there. “Take it like a man, Swain.”
The hands at her back tightened, pulling her lower body flush against his. “No other way for me to take it.” The evidence of that pressed hot and hard against her abdomen. Very hot. Very hard. She swallowed a moan of her own as he nudged that ridge more firmly against her—an involuntary move, she suspected, and it weakened her thighs all the more knowing master of control, Marc Swain, couldn’t help himself. Leaning in, she sank both hands into his back pockets, lifted onto her toes, and sealed her lips to his.
His breath released in a tortured rush, fanning her upper lip. She slid her tongue into his mouth, slid her fingers around in his pockets, slid her silk over his cotton and her bare leg between his rugged, jean-covered thighs. From somewhere beyond the bubble of their embrace, she registered the movement of other couples on the dance floor, the slow pulse of music, the soft wash of lights.
The sound he made deep in his throat carried an edge of pain. A big hand fisted in her hair. His body shuddered. “Have mercy, Eden.”
Her insides quivered in response, but, outwardly, she held it together. “Had enough already?”
As the music wound down, he exhaled slowly. “Yes.” But when she started to step away, he said “No” and pulled her back to him. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed deeply again. And again. “Don’t move.” Then, disobeying his own instructions, he lowered his head, ran his lips over her skin, from the side of her neck to the curve of her shoulder, and pressed a kiss to the point. Another slow exhale, and he eased away and dropped her hat back on her head. “That’s some dirty pool right there, choux.”
Maybe. And revenge lacked full sweetness when parts of her weren’t sure who’d really won the game, but she mustered up a triumphant smile anyway. “Just keeping it real, Swain.”