“Mother, this is Lili’s …” Marion looks momentarily disconcerted. “Lili’s partner, Ant.”
I hold out my hand. “Lovely to meet you, Grandie. I’ve been instructed to call you that. I hope you don’t mind.” I realise, belatedly, that nobody has actually told me Grandie’s name.
“Well, I suppose that depends on what your intentions are, young man.” Her eyes run me up and down. They’re so sharp that I look down at myself to make sure she hasn’t nicked me. “For the time being, you can call me Mrs Cooper.”
Ouch. Not that I wasn’t warned, but it took her no time at all to fire the first shot, and in a voice like frozen steel.
I thought long and hard about what to pack for this week. There’s an awful lot of linen shirts and pants, cotton shorts and golf gear in my bag. As well as a suit for the wedding and plenty of beachwear. Tonight, I went for a sky-blue linen shirt that matches my eyes, beige chinos and a brand-new pair of pretentious loafers I bought for the occasion. Simple clothes, but if Mrs Cooper knows anything about fashion, she’ll know they’re good quality.
Lil kisses her cheek. “Please be nice, Grandie,” she whispers.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mrs Cooper. I hope you had an enjoyable day at the lavender farm?” Actually, I don’t care what kind of time any of them had. My day with Lilavati was perfect.
“It was very hot and humid,” she responds with a dismissive sniff. I’m not sure what she was expecting the weather in Hawaii to be like, but in my experience, it’s either hot and humid or very hot and humid.
Fortunately, someone taps their glass, and we’re all invited to be seated. I don’t know who did the seating plan, but I’m grateful they didn’t put us at the top of the table next to Mrs Cooper, Marion and Warren. On the other hand, it’s an obvious snub to Lilavati to be down the end of the family table, sandwiched between the second cousins and the few teens and tweens in attendance.
When we started this fake dating thing, the rules were clear. At least from Lil’s point of view. No PDAs. But I feel like the rules are shifting a little, even though we haven’t had the opportunity to discuss it. And the expanse of smooth golden skin—still pinked by the sun—exposed by Lil’s halter neck dress is just too much of a temptation to resist.
With my arm draped along the back of her chair, I can’t resist running my fingers gently across her shoulder. Up and down her slender bicep. Lightly over her collarbone. I play with the few stray locks of hair that have escaped her bun. And she doesn’t object. She leans into my touch. Drops her hand on my thigh. Presses her shoulder against mine.
My blood is on a fast simmer, and I need to be careful. The last thing I want is for Marion or Mrs Cooper to see me sporting a boner. There’s also the need to ‘fess up’ hovering in the back of my mind. Lilavati would never forgive me if we took this to the next level and she found out I’d been lying to her.
As the dessert plates are cleared, a group of Hawaiian women in spectacular traditional dress assemble in the open space. Adrumbeat starts. Hips flick. It’s beautiful and graceful and sexy as hell. Although not as sexy as the rapt expression on Lil’s face as she watches the performance.
“Dance with me.” I stand and hold out my hand when the floor is cleared and the band starts up. She places her hand in mine without hesitation, and I lead her onto the floor where two or three older couples are already swaying to the music.
“Has it been terribly painful?” she asks, looking up at me with a relaxed smile as I wrap an arm around her back and spin us.
“Not at all. I’m actually having a great time.” And it’s not a lie. Our gazes cling. A question is asked and answered without a word being said.
Now. I have to tell her now.
“You know, making coffee and surfboards can be pretty lucrative …” I start.
“Lili!” a voice screeches, and we jerk to a halt. For fuck’s sake. What is it with all the interruptions? We turn and see the bride barrelling towards us, arms out in the fakest welcome I’ve ever seen. “This must be your new boyfriend. I’m Emily.Sohappy to meet you.” With no further warning, Lil is elbowed out of the way, and I’m pulled tight against a generous—and I suspect cosmetically enhanced—bust.
The famous Emily.
I’ve learnt over the years not to rely on others for opinions of people. I’ve also learnt that first impressions are usually right. My first impression of Emily is the polar opposite of what Marion had said about her. Which comes as no surprise. Insincere doesn’t begin to cover how I’d describe her.
I look at Lilavati over the top of the blonde head pressed to my chest. She looks like she could spit nails. I widen my eyes, grimace and hold up my hands. Which brings a smile to Lil’s face.
“Aunt Marion said you were handsome, but I wasn’t expecting you to be quitethishandsome,” she squeaks as I disengage myself from what feels like the clutches of an octopus. A guy of average height with a receding hairline, weak jaw and very expensive suit—who wears a suit in Hawaii?—stands behind her. Lil’s description of the kind of man her family wants her to marry was spot on. I hold out my hand to him.
“Ant Stevens. You must be Julian.” His handshake is as weak as his profile. Not to mention clammy.
Emily doesn’t let him get a word in. Stepping between us, she clutches my arm and turns me away from both Lil and Julian, leaving them standing side by side in the middle of the dance floor.
“You don’t mind if I cut in, do you, Lili?”
Chapter Eighteen
Lilavati
Imind very much, actually.
Which is absurd. I have no claim on Ant. This is a fake arrangement, and I’d do well to remember that. But watching Emily swan off across the floor with Ant feels all kinds of wrong. And not because she’s pressed up against a different man than the one she’ll be exchanging vows with in a couple of days.
