I put my plate of underwear down and take his hand. I go still as a charge runs through my fingers. His eyes meet mine, and they’re very dark. He raises one eyebrow.
“Joe Bagshaw,” I say briskly, removing my hand from his and offering him a quick smile. “Where’s your companion?”
“My companion?”
“Didn’t you arrive with a bloke?”
“Who?” Recognition dawns. “Oh, he was another guest. I wasn’t interested anyway.” Laughter lights his grey eyes, daring me to ask.
My heart starts to pound. “Not your type?”
“Something like that.” He leans close, and I catch the scent of musk and sandalwood from his cologne. “He wasn’t you.”
I gape at him. “I beg your pardon.”
He chuckles and signals the barman. “You heard me. What will you have?”
I blink. “You’re very full of yourself.”
“I will resist the inevitable joke.”
“Thank you so much.” He gestures at the waiting barman. “Oh, I shouldn’t,” I say, looking around. “I don’t drink on duty.”
“The party’s nearly over, Cinders. Come on. Drink with me. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I gulp. “You have?” I say tentatively.
He nods and asks the barman for two whiskies. He turns back to me. “Keep me company,” he says.
His air of command works like a charm. I slide into the seat next to him, and he smiles, passing me a glass of amber liquid and clinking his glass against mine. “Here’s to the bride and groom.”
“Oh yes. Those people who may require my services at any moment.”
“Mark will only require your services if you’re a spiritual medium.”
“What?”
He tips his head toward a nearby spot, and I turn to find the groom. I’d missed him on my earlier perambulation of the room. Mainly because he’s lying under the gift table.
“Oh dear. I’d better go and get him up.”
He puts a hand on mine, and I feel that same funny charge. It’s like having a sparkler under my skin.
“Leave him. His father is on the way.”
He’s right. Within moments Mark is being picked up by his dad and a groomsman.
“Probably best,” he says as they lead Mark away. “He’s no use to anyone after a beer. Daisy should count herself lucky tonight.”
“You sound like you have biblical experience of Mark.”
He winks at me. “Wouldn’t that involve a stable, a donkey, and three wise men?”
“Kinky, but you’d be hard pressed to find any wise men at this shindig.”
He chuckles. “I do have experience of Mark. Not one I’d want to revisit, though.”
I sip my whisky. “You rich people. It’s like the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills around here, but with more Botox.”
He throws his head back, laughing. His amusement lights his whole face and he looks suddenly younger.
“How old are you?” I ask. I’d put him at over forty, by the lines around his eyes.
He waggles his eyebrows. “Old enough.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” I say tartly, and he chuckles.
The music shifts to “You’re the First, the Last, My Everything” by Barry White.
“Tell me about yourself,” Lachlan commands.
I eye him contemplatively. He’s far too arrogant, so of course, I’m extremely attracted to him. Cocky fuckers are my kryptonite. Already my dick is half hard, and I feel hot and bothered.
The party is winding down, and there’s no sign of the bride and groom now, so I don’t feel guilty speaking with him. “Be prepared for a lengthy conversation, then. The life of a wedding planner is short but full of adventure.”
“Like a dying firework,” he says solemnly.
I smirk. “More of a damp, underpaid squib but we’ll work with your description. Let’s see. I’m twenty-six. Underpaid and overworked. A Scorpio, but let me reassure you there is no sting in my tail.”
He chuckles and leans closer, his attention inspiring heady feelings. His eyes stay on me as I talk, and we laugh, getting closer until I’m nearly in his lap.
When I next look around, I discover the room is nearly empty. Just a few stragglers and the weary staff clearing up. “Wow,” I say to Lachlan. “We cleared the room.”
He studies me. He’s loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, showing tanned, corded forearms. “Come to bed with me,” he says.
I choke on my drink. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Come to bed with me. I very much want to fuck you.”
As I look into his eyes, it feels like sparks should be flying all around us, like a firework show. I hesitate. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve hooked up with someone at a reception, or even the hundredth. It’s where I spend most weekends, after all.
Still, there’s something about Lachlan that makes me wary. Maybe it’s the strength of my attraction to him. Sex is usually just a fun release for me, and I’ve largely forgotten my partners by the time I exit the hotel room the next morning. But I bet this one would be hard to forget.
He runs one long finger over my hand, and I shudder. The nerve endings beneath his fingertip zip with attraction, racing through my veins, heading directly to my cock. His eyes narrow, but he stays seated, letting me make up my mind.
I smile at him. “Come on, then. I suppose it’s better that I accompany you and stop your headlong rush into a life of crime.”
He chuckles. “I must admit I can’t wait to hear more of your opinions on bankers.”
“Said no one ever.”
I start to stand up, but he puts a hand out to stop me. “Before we leave, I have to confess something to you.”
My heart stutters. Shit. Is he married? “Oh?” I say weakly.
He leans closer. “I’m not actually a banker.”
Relief rushes through me but I don’t show it. “Well, that’s rather disappointing. I happen to like the bad boys.”
“Oh, I never said I was good.” His expression turns wicked.
“I bet you’re not,” I say slowly. “So, if you don’t mind me asking—what do you actually do?”
“I’m a forensic accountant.”
“That sounds rather Patricia Cornwell.”
He chuckles, and it’s a warm, sexy sound. “Alas, not as exciting, but I do work with figures, which will hopefully tie in with your banker fetish.”
I give a dramatic sigh. “Well, the pickings are very slim tonight. I suppose I’ll have to work with what I’ve got.”
His eyes sparkle. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”
“That is a cross I have to bear, but you don’t want to hear about my travails.” I grin at him. “I do hope you have your own room. It’s no good looking to me to house you for the night. Newlyweds will spend five grand on a cake, but there’s no way they’d pay for a room for the wedding planner. I’m in a motel down the road.”
“I have a room at the hotel here.”
“Well, I hope it’s suitably luxurious. A boy has to have his standards.”