Mr. Imperfect

chapter 15



Jet lag. It had been a constant companion to Rori in her life, and she knew when it was useless to fight it.

It didn’t help that her mind was processing everything that had happened that day. The whole meeting with the neighbors had been unlike anything she had anticipated. Then again, Rori’s mother was quite formal. She would be appalled to even consider using paper plates for a party. Children would have been segregated to a separate area and overseen by a nanny, and a toast of celebration certainly wouldn’t have been given with soda from a two-liter bottle.

That said, Rori had been around enough to have much less refined sensibilities than her mother. She liked to think that she acclimated to her environment and went with the flow. Still, the whole evening with the Cannons had just been so…familial. A casual welcome home party turned engagement party without anyone breaking a sweat.

Luke’s insistence that she meet the Cannon family still eluded Rori, even though he’d assured her that it would be clear once they were all face to face. Clearly they were close with Luke, but that was no reason to drag your fiancée half way around the world.

Odd. It was all just odd. From the way Luke had raced at Kris the moment she appeared to Rori’s growing obsession to sculpt the best man.

It was those damn eyes of his. And his mouth. And his hands and arms. And the stupid way Mike emanated a quiet masculine confidence that silently assured her that everything was okay, that he had everything under control. All Rori had to do was trust him and everything would be okay.

Bullshit.

That soothing lullaby was the last thing a woman heard before her life fell apart and she was left staring at the pieces and wondering what the hell just happened. Rori knew that. What she didn’t know was how Mike Cannon was able to work his magic on her when she’d thought she was immune.

It had something to do with his trust-me smile. And that smile paired with eyes the shade of blue stolen from a parrot feather, and there was just something unusually compelling about the guy.

Rori needed to draw him. Because to draw him, she would have figure out how his face worked and how he used it. Once she figured that out, she would understand the mechanics behind his trust-me face. Once she understood the mechanics she would be immune to the man. And being immune to Mike’s smile would be very important once she was married to Luke.

Married to Luke… It was strange that the first thought she conjured up when imagining that was Luke and Kris running at each other at the party. Rori didn’t care what either of them said, there was love there. Rori had spent her life watching people. She knew what love looked like. Luke and Kris loved each other. The question was: was it romantic?

She had just over two days to figure that out. Were Kris and Luke brother and sister forever, or were they repressed powder kegs of want ready to combust at first contact?

Figuring that out was number one on Rori’s list. Number two was curing herself of sweaty hands around the best man. She was simply too old for such nonsense.

Yet the longer Rori lay in bed, the more aware she became that it had been Mike’s old bed. Remembering the scent from his current bed, Rori turned her head to see if the scent was the same. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she stopped mid-inhale.

What in the world was wrong with her? Of course the bed didn’t smell like Mike. And if it did after all this time, then that was its own level of gross that Rori didn’t want to even think about. Except she was thinking about it—wondering if he slept naked…if once upon a time he’d ever snuck a girl into this bed.

After meeting his family, Rori highly doubted it. The Cannons seemed very proper and the bedrooms in the home were all too close together to allow for any real privacy. A teenager would be far too nervous to sneak a girl in for sex. In fact, it was highly unlikely that the bed she was in had ever seen a naked woman since the day it was made.

When Rori had the bright idea of stripping out of her clothes and make that statement untrue, she knew her jet lag must be sending her into a delirious state.

Why couldn’t she just sleep? Just close her eyes and just let everything go dark rather than imagining what Mike Cannon might look like without his clothes? Did he have body hair? If so, how much? And did he trim it back or let it grow untamed?

She was guessing he was a manscaper. A man who took the time to develop his muscles to the degree Mike did would want the contours to be seen, not blocked by a film of hair. For a moment Rori let herself imagine the man beneath the clothes, sketching him out.

How weird would it be to ask him to pose nude? Really weird or just kind of weird? If she just saw the guy naked then she wouldn’t stay up, staring at a stupid ceiling, imagining what his body might look like and what type of underwear would best suit his form. She’d know, and she’d be over it. The romanticized imaginings of a guy naked was always better that the real deal, and right now all she had was the fantasy of the man.

Rori knew she had let her thoughts go too far when she moved her hand across her stomach and felt little shocks skitter across her nerves and straight to her core. In a flash, Rori tossed her covers to the side and got up.

Uh-uh. No way she was going there. She may not love Luke, but she would be faithful to him, even in her mind. Which meant she needed some serious distraction. And experience had taught Rori that the best thing to do when it was midnight and you were totally wired was to tire yourself out.

Luckily for Rori there was a tramp out in the Cannon’s back yard with her name on it.

Today was the day Aurora Borealis Townsend was going to join the rest of humanity in the experience of jumping on a tramp. And she was going to do so sans onlookers.

Creeping down the stairs, Rori was careful to be silent, only to have the alarm system give two high beeps when she opened the back door. She froze, feeling like an intruder, and wasn’t sure what to do until Mr. Cannon poked his head out around the corner of the hallway.

“Sorry,” Rori said, offering him a little wave. “Can’t sleep. Mind if I use your tramp?”

“No problem,” he said with a tired smile. “Just lock the door on your way back in.”

“Will do. Good night.”

“Night,” he said, and disappeared again.

For a moment, Rori stood in the open door still looking at the spot Mr. Cannon just vacated. He’d responded quickly when he the alarm beeped. Not an armed guard, security service, or even a dog. The dad actually got up out of bed, protecting his house—his family. It was…nice. Like something that would happen in some heartwarming TV movie. And if Rori would have seen that movie, she would have rolled her eyes and thought, That never happens.

But apparently it did. Some dads were the first line of defense for their homes and families. Just not her dad. Or her step-dad.

Rori closed the door behind her and moved across the porch and toward the tramp. Hopping up, she felt the material sink beneath her, urging her toward the center of the trampoline. It was kind of disconcerting. She was supposed to jump. She knew that, but spent the first little bit just walking around and getting a feel for the thing. Then she jumped, amused when she felt nervousness build up in her as she got higher. She’d just flown across the Atlantic with a virtual stranger and agreed to marry him, and she was getting nervous about bouncing on a trampoline?

Willing herself to overcome the ridiculous fear, Rori bounced higher. It was actually kind of fun and decent exercise. Earlier, the kids had been doing flips and tricks along with their uncles. They made it look so effortless, but the thought of flipping had Rori feeling a little unsure. She dropped to her knees instead, bouncing back up to her feet.

Hardly rocket science. Rori kept trying new tricks, mimicking what she’d seen the children doing, and feeling a little ridiculous in the process. “Hee-haws” and “peanut rolls” looked much better when little bodies did them. Or at least Rori assumed so, based on how awkward she felt as she failed in her attempts.

When she successfully executed a back drop, Rori heard distinct clapping coming from the direction of the house and immediately turned to see who it was. At first she saw nothing. Then she realized the clapping was coming from the roof, where Mike sat comfortably, watching her.

“First time on a tramp, huh?” he asked, as if sitting on a roof in the middle of the night was the most natural thing in the world.

Rori had the moonlight to thank for hiding her embarrassment, but there was no disguising her squeak of surprise. “Que estas—” She stopped, correcting herself. “What are you doing out this late?”

“I heard the springs squeaking and thought I’d check out who was on the tramp. Want some pointers?” he offered, standing up. “You look like you’ll be a natural.”

Mike Cannon made quite the picture standing above her and all but glowing in the white of the moonlight. Sort of like an urban angel, which was a ridiculous notion, of course. But it made a damn fine picture. “Any tricks to doing a front flip?”

“Timing,” he said before jumping from the roof to the tramp without hesitation and executing a flip on his first bounce and landing near her. The show off. “Front flips are actually harder than back flips. But just bounce up, wait until you’re almost at your peak height, then throw your arms forward and tuck. Your body will do the rest. Want me to spot you?”

She hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand warily. The confident way he positioned it told her that he had spotted many people before. He knew what he was doing and would keep her safe from injury, just like he kept his niece safe when she and Luke had bounced her way too high.

Rori had nearly cried out when she saw the toddler fly above Luke and Mike’s heads early that evening. Rori didn’t care how elastic the tramp material was, the little girl had been too fragile to hit it from that height. But before Rori could do anything, Mike had calmly reached out and plucked the laughing child out of the air and into his arms.

If Rori could go back in time and un-see that moment, she’d do it in a heartbeat. Because that had been the moment that cracked the dam in her mind of imagining what kind of father Mike Cannon would be. From there, it was a short step to imagining what his babies would look like, and from there an even shorter step to imagining how it might be to make those babies with him.

And some things, once imagined, could never be taken back.

Rori thought all this while considering his outstretched hand. Then, before she could answer, it retracted.

“Maybe just give it a try on your own first,” he suggested, stepping back. “Just embrace the fact that it will be awkward and unsuccessful, and pay attention to how it feels. I’ll step in if it looks like you’re going to kill yourself.”

“Very comforting,” Rori drawled, not knowing what else to say.

Mike took another step away, putting one foot on the bar of the tramp. “I have faith in you. Go for it.”

Rori hesitated, still debating whether or not to let the weirdness of the whole situation slide. He’d been watching her from the roof, for heaven’s sake. How was that normal?

“You’re weird, you know that?” she said, building up some bounce. She expected him to deny it.

“Well, at least I’m not boring. Throw your arms forward and your forehead toward your knees,” he said instead. “You’ll flip naturally.”

She did as instructed, executing something closer to an aerial than an actual flip and landing on her side. Not very dignified.

“Good start,” he said. “Do it again.”

And she did. Several times. Until somehow she ended up landing on her feet after a flip, before falling on her butt in surprise.

“See?” he said, offering her a hand up. “You’re a natural.”

Seeing Mike’s sculpted hand reach for her and knowing what she would feel if she let him pull her up was enough to bring Rori back to reality.

She would be wise to keep her distance. Ignoring his hand, Rori stood up on her own.

“Tell me, Mike. Why is my fiancé not out here with us? Is it not improper for you to be out here alone with me?”

“I, well, I guess. Yeah.” He stepped away, sticking his hands in his back pockets and stretching the cloth of his shirt across the contours of his chest. She shouldn’t look. If she looked she would never get to sleep that night. She would either stay up sketching him or stare at the ceiling in his old bedroom imagining herself sculpting him. Rori may not be sure about many things at this point, but she knew for a fact that it was too soon to ask Mike Cannon to take off his clothes for her. Eyes first. Then smile. Then hands. Once she was immune to the three of those, she could take on his body. But only when she was immune to everything else.

“And where is Luke now? Asleep or playing video games?”

“Hmmm,” Mike said, glancing at their shared house. “Can I plead the Fifth on that one?”

Rori pursed her lips and studied him. “From what I understand, America’s Fifth Amendment protects people from incriminating themselves, not others, which would make it irrelevant here. But it doesn’t matter. You answered the question, I believe.”

She liked that he shifted uneasily at her assessment.

“Since we’re here Mike, and we have a little privacy, why don’t we talk? Because I sense that you have some reservations about my engagement to Luke.”

“Sure,” he said without hesitation and she found herself studying his neck. Artistically necks had never been her thing, but maybe she was venturing into new territory with this guy. “Two weeks? That’s not enough time to know if you want to spend a life with someone. We both know that.”

“It’s enough,” she countered, raising her eyes to his. “I know what I want in a man and Luke fits the bill. I will be happy with him.”

“I’m sorry, did I hear you right?” Mike asked as she watched his jaw flex in the white light of the moon. Beautiful. “You think the path to happily ever after is a pre-emptive checklist?”

Rori blinked herself back into the conversation. “Please. Happily ever after is a myth. Happiness in general is the result of good planning.”

It was as if she had just spoken Chinese, based on the confused look on his face. Mike didn’t seem to catch her vision, but nor did he attack it.

“So what are some of the items on your list?” he finally asked.

Rori didn’t want to answer. She didn’t know why. She had told Luke the list without a hint of self consciousness, but for some reason Mike had her wanting to avoid looking too closely at it.

“Luke, basically,” she said instead. “Good, upbeat, a good father—”

“Wealthy,” Mike added in the same tone of voice.

Rori pursed her lips and debated how to respond.

“Admit it,” Mike said, closing the distance between them. “You wouldn’t be interested in Luke if his grandfather hadn’t left him all that Coca-Cola stock a few years back and made him insta-rich.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” she said without hesitation. “I would think he was a nice guy, but I certainly wouldn’t consider him for marriage. Experience has taught me, Mr. Cannon, that it is best for money to be a non-issue in relationships. Luke has his money, I have mine, and we split the needs of the children. It is one less thing to worry about.”

She could see that Mike hadn’t been expecting her agreement, or her rationale. That felt good, at least. And the fact that he was close enough to smell the remnants of his cologne? Well, she was choosing to ignore that. Mainly by talking.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she added. “I’ve had my fair share of poor and middle-class boyfriends, so I know what I’m talking about. The simple fact is relationships don’t work when the woman has money and the man doesn’t.”

“So only millionaires will do for you then?” he challenged.

Mike seemed unfazed as she leveled her harshest glare at him for his implying that she was a woman for sale.

“Yes, Mike. Only millionaires will do for me.” She stepped in, moving in close enough to be sure he felt their body heat mingling. The instant she did it, she forgot why. All she could feel were the currents of want just below the surface and she secretly wished for Mike to finish closing the distance.

But no, she was pretty sure this was about making a statement—that this was about showing Mike that she was a woman who was not easily swayed.

“It is not an unrealistic standard,” she said, keeping her voice cold despite the persistent thumping of her heart compelling her to reach out and touch. “Especially as my net worth is greater than Luke’s and I have the education to manage and sustain it. Luke has no such tools at his disposal and needs guidance if he is to avoid flushing his inheritance down the drain.”

Mike only smirked. “No offense, but you’ve known Luke a few weeks. He’s actually quite smart with money, but that’s none of my business.” Was it her imagination, or did his eyes lock on to her lips for a moment? “What is my business is making sure you’re right for Luke. Just because you’re hot and rich doesn’t mean you’re ‘Luke’ material.”

If Mike had been looking at her lips before, he definitely wasn’t now. He was looking her dead in the eye with such force Rori couldn’t even swallow. She did manage to find a few words, though. “I might surprise you.”

“Doubt it,” he said stepping off the tramp. “I’m pretty good at predicting successful engagements, and I say that you two won’t last the week.”

He left then, striding over to gate to the back yard. Rori waited until the gate was shut between them before allowing herself a stabilizing breath.

None of this wasn’t going remotely as planned.