His freckles faded again as the color rushed back into his cheeks. He even gave a small smile. “Right.”
When Tyler Blakely had called me up and begged me to save him, I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to say no. I’d had a whole vision of how sweet my New Year might end up being if I had him to play with, and I was in before he had to pause for breath. Pretending to be someone else for a few days was a very small price to pay for spending that amount of time inside Tyler.
I mean, spending that amount of time with Tyler.
Besides, he’d assured me it wasn’t going to be a hugely traditional wedding. No wedding party, for example—which might have given me pause, if Tyler had been Best Man or anything like that, and therefore less available to head off any awkward questions. Ty had promised it would all go smoothly, but since my arrival he’d only been getting more and more anxious.
I’d arrived two hours back, and so far, I hadn’t met any of these friends of his, and I was still trying to figure out what my approach should be. Apparently Shane, the ex, had been a law student at Yale. What I knew about the law could fit on a postage stamp…in big damn lettering. But Tyler had told me he’d stick with me like glue and help out with questions that I couldn’t answer.
It was better for me to focus on the fun side: having Tyler Blakely to myself for three whole days. Miles Vanderhoven might have driven me out of New York, but Tyler was why I was here, why I’d agreed right away to his babbling, panicked call before Christmas.
I pulled his chin up and looked over his face. When we had time, I planned to kiss every freckle on his face, but we were already late. “Let’s go have some fun, Blakely,” I told him with a smile. “And then later on, we can make some fun of our own. So no drinking, you hear?”
He finally gave me a real smile. “No, sir.”
He was just kidding around. He’d never called me anything like that during our times together. Neither of us were into honorifics. But damn if it didn’t take my breath away to hear it. “There we go,” I murmured, and this time I didn’t bother resisting the impulse to kiss him. “Now, let’s go play pretend.”
We set out to the big house in Tyler’s car, but he tensed up again during the short drive. He drove around to the back of the house—mansion, really—parked the car, and then slapped his forehead. “I should’ve parked out front,” he said, turning to me. “Force of habit. I always go in the back way.”
I was already opening the door. “Suits me. We can sneak in the back and start mingling without any big introductions. Right?”
He was worrying at his ear, tugging at the lobe. “Yeah,” he said vaguely. “Sneak in.”
I leaned back into the car, raising an eyebrow. “So you gonna join me, or—”
“Sorry, sorry.” He jumped out of the car, and I came around to take his hand, making him look down at our clasped fingers and then up at me, his brows pulling together.
“You ready, babe?” I said loudly.
“Uh, yeah.” He made a face at me, then pulled me with him. “This way.”
Going in the back way meant we went through the kitchens, where Tyler was greeted by a lot of the staff members there, and then we got hounded out affectionately by Antoine, the chef. “You’re popular,” I observed, as we slipped into the corridor.
“I guess.”
I stopped him dead. This wasn’t going to work. He could barely look me in the eye. “Man, you need to learn to take a compliment.” I tipped his chin up a little. “You’re not just popular with the staff here. You’re smart, funny, and cute as hell.” His lips parted in surprise, and I kissed him before he could deny it. When I pulled away, I added in a mock-severe voice, “Say ‘thank you, sir.’”
“Thank you, sir,” he breathed. And now he couldn’t take his eyes off of me. From his chin, my hand slid down to his neck, my fingers closing gently around his throat as I leaned in for another kiss, his pulse fluttering against my fingertips.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, I didn’t realize—”
We both looked up, surprised, and Tyler actually jumped away from me. An impeccably-suited man with silvering hair had turned away to give us our privacy.
“It’s cool,” I call down the hallway. “Sorry, man, we were on the way through.”
He turns back with a kind smile. “Sebastian Fox,” he said, extending a hand.
I shook it. “Da—Shane. Shane McAuley.”
“Tyler Blakely,” Ty muttered. I pulled him in close in a side-hug.
“Ah, the elusive Tyler!” Sebastian said. “Delighted to meet you both. I believe Jon’s looking for you. I just wanted to give my compliments to the chef.”
“Good to hear,” I said, squeezing Tyler tighter than ever. I looked down at him. “We should get moving, babe. If Jon’s looking for you.”
He looked wild-eyed and pale, his galaxy of freckles standing out again.
After a pause, during which Tyler said nothing, Sebastian gave us a nod. “Well, I’ll see you out there,” he said with another smile, and moved past us.
