Chapter Eight
“Here’s some champagne. It will help loosen you up.”
Abby accepted the glass from Betty Jo, her palms sweaty and her fingers wooden. It was a miracle she didn’t drop the slender flute, and for a few seconds she concentrated hard so that she wouldn’t.
Nervous didn’t come close to describing what was going on inside her stomach. Heck, it was like a convention of butterflies had gone bat-shit crazy. How the hell had she let Betty Jo talk her into wearing this dress? This makeup?
She glanced lower. These shoes?
They had come-f*ck-me written all over them and with the slit nearly up to her hip they were there for everyone to see. That’s if anyone’s eyes made it past the top of her dress which, at the moment, barely supported her breasts. And she didn’t want to think about how low the back was. In fact she’d asked Betty Jo twice if her butt crack wasn’t peeking out of the top of the gown.
Never in her life had she worn a dress that didn’t allow for a bra or underwear. Never. But thanks to Betty Jo Barker, Abby was going commando. And thanks to the hotel spa, she was smooth in places she’d never been smooth before.
Holy. Hell.
Back in Betty’s room when she’d glanced in the mirror, she hadn’t recognized herself. Not that she wasn’t impressed with the results. She knew she looked good. Really good. Like she could walk a red carpet beside Betty Jo and maybe hold her own.
That was pretty damn good.
But looking sexy and fitting into that skin were two different things. She just didn’t know if she could carry off the look. Didn’t know if she could walk the walk.
Abby had always been a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. Even back in New York, she wasn’t much for the night clubs unless they included a rock band or the blues. Hence, the T-shirt and jeans…maybe the occasional skirt—but never anything like this.
Oh God. And she always wore underwear. Sheesh, if her mother knew the state of what was going on between her legs, she’d have a freaking coronary.
You never know if you’ll be in an accident Abigail. Always wear undies. Clean undies.
“You look hot,” Betty said with a grin. “Like if I was bent that way, I’d totally do you.”
Abby managed a smile and took a sip of champagne. She’d thought they’d be overdressed, but Betty had assured her that the Simons didn’t do dinner in a fancy restaurant unless they were dressed to the nines. Judging by the jewels, suits and gowns, Abby had seen as they entered the room, Betty was right.
Not that it made Abby feel any better, but still…
Betty leaned in. “Tucker looks more than a little hot under the collar.”
Even though she hadn’t looked out at the sea of Simons and extended family, Abby knew exactly where Tucker was. She could feel the touch of him, as if he was next to her. That’s how hot her Tucker Simon radar was.
That’s how much trouble she was in.
She gulped some more champagne and kept her eyes glued to Betty, who looked real pleased with herself.
“You’ve already won Eden over, and she’s a hard nut to crack let me tell you.” Betty smiled at someone, a quick sort of thing before she continued. “God, it took me at least six months to get on her good side, and it finally took a home cooked meal which I took credit for but my sister Bobbi prepared.” Betty’s eyes flashed with mischief. “I also promised to cook Beau at least one home-cooked meal a week and I gave her a piece of artwork from my soon to be brother-in-law, Shane Gallagher.”
That name rang a bell.
“Shane Gallagher, the hot guy artist with the tattoos and bad reputation is engaged to your sister?”
Abby remembered Tucker talking about him after a showing of his art at a gallery not far from her family’s pub. Tucker had come in with a blonde on his arm and the blonde had spent most of the evening with a bored look on her face while Tucker had shown Abby pictures of Shane’s work.
“That’s the one,” Betty nodded.
“He’s very talented.” This was good. Abby could carry on a conversation without tripping over her words.
“Don’t take your eyes off me,” Betty said softly. “Tucker looks like he wants to strangle his cousin Cooper, and Cooper looks as if he wants to eat you.” Betty giggled. “This is gonna be epic.”
Abby’s stomach flipped and she nearly dropped her champagne glass. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Yeah, you can,” Betty answered. “Cooper is notorious for wanting something that doesn’t belong to him.”
“But I don’t belong—”
“Cut the crap, Abby.”
Abby’s eyes widened as Betty turned to her and suddenly the flirtatious party girl was gone, replaced with a direct no bullshit version. “I see the way you look at Tucker, and I can feel the sexual tension between the two of you. Even this morning when you were pissed at him. Even then .”
Abby was silent, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. Was she that transparent? Did everyone know?
“Jesus, out on that golf course my panties were on fire every time I got near you two, so don’t tell me your cock-and-bull story that making a play for Cooper is only because you want to protect Tucker. To keep Eden and Noah off his back. I’m not buying that. You want to make him jealous as hell.”
Betty leaned in, her mouth close to Abby’s ear. “And I gotta say sweetie, it’s working.”
“Abby.”
Tucker’s voice never failed to make her knees weak. It had a roughness to it, like aged whisky over smooth ice.
She turned toward him and held a soft smile in place while the butterflies in her stomach took off and whooshed around like they were tumbling inside a washing machine. Abby knew that if she didn’t get hold of her shit, it wasn’t going to be pretty.
In fact it might get downright pathetic.
“Tucker,” Betty said stepping forward and giving him a peck on the cheek. “You’re looking all dark and dangerous. Something got you worked up?”
“No,” he replied, voice dangerously low, eyes on Abby.
“I don’t believe you,” Betty said dryly.
“I don’t care,” he replied, eyes still on Abby.
“Whatever, hon,” Betty answered lightly. “I’ll see you both in a bit. I need to find my man.”
A shiver rolled over Abby and even though she was wearing heels—come-f*ck-me-heels at that—she had to tip her head a bit in order to meet his gaze.
Seconds passed—or they could have been minutes for all Abby knew—but his dark chocolate eyes never left her and that feeling of nervous tension in her gut expanded. Considering that there was no give in her dress, that was saying something.
“You look real good in red,” Tucker said, stepping so close that the heat of him washed over her, rolling across Abby like a sea of fire.
“Thanks,” she managed without sounding like an idiot.
Again she shivered, but it wasn’t from the—
“Cold?” he asked.
“No, I’m…”
God, I’m hot as hell.
“The air conditioning takes a bit to get used to,” she managed to say, hoping she didn’t sound like a complete idiot.
Moistening her lips, she lowered her lashes.
God, he looked good and he smelled even better.
Tucker’s dark hair waved a bit from the humidity, his eyes glittered, and his skin was already kissed from just one afternoon in the sun. Sure it helped that his complexion was already dark, but still.
Not fair.
He’d shaved for dinner and while most of the men present were wearing suits, he’d opted for just a tie—which was loosened—and his crisp white shirt was rolled up to his elbows. Dark navy slacks hugged his hips and he didn’t have to turn around for her to know his ass looked amazing, too.
Tucker had a casual air about him, but it did nothing to hide the dangerous glint of something that rolled just beneath the surface. Something that was meaty and hot and…
She cleared her throat and inhaled a shaky breath before daring to look up again.
Wrong thing to do because the man literally took her breath away, and right now that was very inconvenient. How the hell was she supposed to act all nonchalant if she couldn’t effing breathe?
“Did you wear this dress for Cooper?” He leaned closer—so close she could count every single one of his thick lashes. So close that his scent—that sexy as hell Tucker Simon scent—settled inside her nostrils.
Inside Abby.
“Or did you wear it for me?”
Mouth dry, Abby licked her lips and took a few seconds to calm her nerves.
One.
Two.
Three.
“I wore it for myself, if you want to know the truth.”
“Huh.” A slow, devastating smile spread across Tucker’s face as he regarded her for a few moments in silence. “It was a good choice.”
He paused, something flickering in the depths of his eyes—and it made Abby think that she was toying with something dangerous and hazardous to her health.
“You look beautiful.”
God, she wasn’t used to this—not with Tucker—and after another second passed, Abby finally got her shit together.
“Thanks,” she said lightly. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Now, are you going to introduce me to the rest of your family, or are we going to stand here while they whisper about us behind the backs of their hands?”
Tucker moved so that he was beside her and settled his palm on her lower back. Tingles and shooting rockets burst inside Abby as his fingers grazed her naked skin, and she hoped like hell he didn’t hear the sharp intake of air through her teeth, because she sounded like a goddamn whistle.
“Shit, Abby. You do know that your dress barely covers your—“
“Yeah, I do.”
A heartbeat passed.
And then Tucker leaned down, his breath warm against her cheek. “You’re a liar, darlin’.”
She turned slightly and only then realized that her mouth was a whisper away from Tucker’s.
“What do you mean?”
His dark eyes were intense. They traveled from her mouth, down to her breasts and then back up again.
“You didn’t wear this dress for your own pleasure. You wore this dress because you knew it would drive me f*cking crazy. Cooper isn’t going to leave you alone.”
Eventually she found her voice and spoke lightly, as if this was a game, and not something that had her heart in her throat. “Is it working?”
Tucker’s fingers splayed across her back, resting just above the swell of her butt, his heat searing her skin.
“Guess we’re gonna find out.”
With that he prodded her forward, but his hand never left her body.