“Are you serious?” I demand, pushing against his chest so I can look at his face.
He nods and wrinkles his forehead. “Yeah, they’ll be at the holiday party tonight.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Why do you look worried?”
“I’ll be meeting your parents.”
“They’re just people.” He says it so matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry.” He presses a kiss to my nose. “My main concern is that they make a good impression on you. I won’t let you run for the hills after you meet the people who raised me.”
I laugh, followed by a screech as he hoists me over his shoulder. “Neil, my robe,” I yell when the silk robe falls over my legs, exposing my rear end to the air.
“Good. The damn thing was obstructing my view anyway,” he growls as we enter my bedroom. He lowers me to the bed and pushes the sides of the robe open, exposing me entirely to his heated gaze.
“We’ve got some time before the delivery guy comes for the cookies. Let’s make it count,” he says, stripping out of his jeans.
Chapter 8
“Are you cold?” he asks in that deep voice of his while his gaze drinks in every inch of my body.
I shake my head as I step through the art gallery entrance that he holds open for me. The sounds of softly playing holiday music reach my ears as soon as the door closes behind us. However, it’s Neil’s sharp gaze that continues to hold my attention.
Thankfully, the padded bra I’m wearing beneath my red, sequined dress prevents my hardened nipples from being seen through the material. Otherwise, Neil and everybody around us would have an indication of how turned on his voice and stare is making me. Not surprisingly, the smirk that plays at his lips already informs me that he knows the exact effect he’s having on me.
“I’m fine,” I say, but my voice comes out huskier than I’d intended. “If I knew you looked this great in a tuxedo, I would’ve made you wear one on our dates sooner.”
I’m not joking, either. Neil’s tailored Tom Ford looks as if every single stitch was made with his body in mind. I run my tongue along my bottom lip, glad that I wore my smudge-proof lipstick for the night.
“If you asked, I would’ve put on this monkey suit sooner.”
I laugh. He’s been calling the tux a monkey suit ever since he put it on. He may not be in love with wearing a tuxedo, but he’s built for it.
“You could’ve been a model. Did anyone ever tell you that?” I question, staring at him. With his long, strawberry locks, perfect face, pink lips, and strong jaw, he has the precise makings of a cover model on any one of the magazines that post men on their front pages.
He chuckles. “I was for a short time.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Are you being serious?”
He nods. “Some guy approached me at a fast-food restaurant when I was like sixteen. I thought he was a fucking perv at first, but he turned out to be a legit photographer. Pretty famous one, too. I did a few campaigns, but nothing ever came of it.” He shrugs and turns to the awaiting hostess.
“Neil McKenna,” he tells her.
The young woman’s smile grows. “Mr. McKenna, Grace has been waiting for you. She’s with your parents. I’ll bring them right over. Wait right here, please,” She turns and retreats into the party, apparently seeking out his parents and the host of the event.
“Wait, so you were like a real model? How come it didn’t work out?” I ask, surprised that he’s so casual about it. I couldn’t imagine him being beat out for any modeling jobs he went out for; granted, there are a lot of good looking people in this world, but Neil is more than a pretty face. That simmering look of his could melt any woman. Photographers or designers would have to be a fool to turn him down.
“Alcohol happened,” he says.
A pit in my belly forms, and suddenly I feel like a fool. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
He shakes his head, taking my hand in his. “Don’t apologize. I’m not ashamed of that time in my life. Besides, modeling was not my life’s calling. I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing,” he says firmly.
Another piece of any resistance I might have to this man falls away. He talks about his job with such sincerity. I can’t help but lift onto my tiptoes and plant a kiss on his cheek.
“I’ll take it, but what was that for?”
I smile, but before I can answer, we’re interrupted.
