Celeb Crush (24 page)

He winces only slightly.  “You don’t wanna know.”

He goes back to Amy and the receptionist to explain the details, and I call Megan to tell her the good news.  Her shrieks are so loud, Luke and the two women look over to see who’s being murdered.

“Is that the bride?” the receptionist calls to me.  “Can I talk to her and get her information real quick?”

I hand my phone over to her, and turn to Luke and Amy, the impeccably dressed woman.  She’s asking him to step into her office so they can talk prices.  I take a deep breath and trail after them.  This is probably going to be very ugly.

We’re there for at least an hour and a half while Amy simultaneously talks to the bride whose spot we are taking, and types up the paperwork.  I hear her mention that Mr. Greyson is going to handle all the cancellation fees and deposits, and I give a sideways glance at Luke.  He’s already got his credit card out, and is busy texting away on his phone.  If my shirt had a collar, I would be tugging at it uneasily.

Amy finally hangs up, and gets down to business discussing the jaw dropping sum.  Luke doesn’t even blink, of course—he can drop more than that on a daily basis, and still live the life of a jet-setting celebrity.  Hell, he gives away more than that on a whim.

Even so, I insist on paying for Megan’s deposit.  It hurts a little, especially now that I’m unemployed, but I hold my ground on this.

“Andi, you know I have millions in the bank, right?  I got this; you don’t have to—”

“I know,” I cut him off, holding up a hand.  “But I want to.  I’m not as destitute as you think I am.  I’ve got money I’ve saved up, and I still have my inheritance, you know.”

Luke shakes his head at me.  “Yeah, but you’re saving up for a reason.  Come on, Tiger, let me do this.  You know that money doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“But it does to me.  That’s why I have to do this,” I say firmly, taking out my bank card and handing it to Amy, who is listening to us argue with rapt fascination.

Luke is looking at me like I’m some kind of saint.  Meanwhile, I can barely let go of my card, and Amy has to pry it out of my hand.  I slump back in my chair, feeling clammy.  I can’t believe I just did that.  Can I take it back?

Megan and Bran arrive shortly after.  Megan is a crying mess.  She hugs everyone, and I can’t help but notice how she lingers on Luke, letting her hands trail down the contoured muscles in his arms and back.  Poor Bran stands there like a chump with that one extra skinny and pale leg exposed by his gray skater boy shorts.  I have to fight the urge to roll him into a ball, bowl him into Megan and Luke, and watch them all go flying like bowling pins.

Not because I’m jealous.

I did not sign up to be stuck in a pretty cottage with a neurotic bride and a bunch of giggling strawberry-scented girls, yet here I am.  I try to maintain a happy expression, but it’s hard when my eyes are stinging so bad I want to claw them out of my face.

I’m slumped over on a couch, staring daggers at the hairdresser who “accidentally” sprayed me in the face with hairspray.  It’s Aria, Bran’s cousin.  That bitch has never liked me.

“Andi, honey, sit up,” my aunt calls to me.  “Your dress is going to wrinkle.”

I quickly straighten, fixing a smile on my face.  Aunt Susan smiles back and very carefully walks back into the room Megan is getting ready in.

“That’s a gorgeous dress, Andi,” Julia, one of Susan’s sisters, tells me, sitting down next to me.  “You look amazing in it.”

“Thanks,” I reply politely.

“Stand up so I can see all of it.” 

She gestures me up, so I reluctantly comply.  I have to admit the dress is nice.  Sherry, Luke’s friend, had it delivered a few days ago.  Megan squealed when she saw it, joking that I was going to look better than her on her own wedding day.

I’m told the dress is cerise, which I guess means pink.  It’s long and form-fitting, made out of a soft slinky material that flows over my curves like water.  It’s a V-neck in the front, showing more cleavage than necessary.  I think it looks like I’m showing more skin than appropriate from behind with the spaghetti straps and plunging back, but whatever.  I didn’t have to pay for it, and it fits. 

My long thick hair has been is piled on top of my head, secured by what feels like hundreds of pins and gallons of hairspray.  I’m not sure my poor neck can support all that weight for the duration of the wedding.  Also, I’m wearing more makeup than I’ve ever worn in my life—even when I was little and my mom entered me in all those Little Miss pageants.  I put my foot down on the fake eyelashes.  It’s not my damn wedding.

It’s almost time for the ceremony to start.  Megan finally comes out of the room, and everyone oohs and ahs at her appearance.  She looks beautiful, of course.  The gown is a perfect fit, and her blonde hair is curled and styled like a renaissance princess.  I can see her shaking with nerves and excitement.  She keeps looking at her mother with wide doe eyes.  Aunt Susan is beaming so hard, I’m worried she’s going to break something in her face.  I don’t like how sunken-eyed and frail she looks in her pale pink suit, but I can’t tell her to go lie down at miss her own daughter’s wedding, can I?

The ceremony is being held outdoors in the botanical garden.  It’s overcast today, and I wonder if it’s going to rain.  That would be funny.  I mean, bad.  I walk sedately down the aisle when it’s my turn, inadvertently walking to the beat of the sappy song playing.  My eyes land on Luke, who’s sitting in the front row next to Aunt Susan.  His gaze sears into me, and tiny shivers run down my bare back.  His expression is so intense and so…intimate.  It’s the kind of look a man gives a woman just before he shoves her up against a wall and has his way with her—consensually speaking, of course.

I take my place at the front without making a fool of myself.  It’s Megan’s turn to come down the aisle, but I can’t seem to break eye contact with Luke.  He is the most beautiful thing here in his sharply tailored dark blue suit.  He should be walking the red carpet right now—not sitting there as a guest in my cousin’s simple wedding in Sea Horse, Oregon.

Sea Wind, I mean.

The rest of the ceremony goes by in a blur.  I’m sure it was lovely, but I only become aware of my surroundings when Luke is standing in front of me.  For some reason, I am as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night.

Luke runs his warm hands up and down my bare arms, leaving shivers in their wake.  “You look incredible, Tiger,” he says in a low warm voice that also causes various neurological disturbances in me.

“I—it’s the dress,” I mumble nervously.  I’m not quite sure what to do with my hands, so I clasp them tightly in front of me. 

“No, it’s definitely what’s in it.”  He lets his gaze drift downwards, lingering on all my tingly parts.  Then his eyes move back up to meet mine, and there’s a mischievous glint in them.  “So, you think your cousin would notice if I stole you away for a few minutes—or hours?”

“Where—?”

“Andi!  Lucas!” 

Talon’s obnoxiously loud voice finds us in our hiding spot behind a shed.  A second later, he comes skidding around the corner.  He wrinkles his nose when he sees how close we’re standing.

“Ew,” he says matter-of-factly.  Then he shrugs.  “I’m supposed to tell you guys that it’s time for pictures.”

“Great,” I mutter, quickly moving away from Luke.  I glance up at him.  “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Luke sticks his hands in the front pockets of his trousers, and continues to stand there.  “I’m not in the wedding party,” he reminds me.

“You’re Lucas Greyson,” I remind him back.  “Expect to be in every single picture they take.”

I’m totally right.  In fact, Megan has Luke pose with just her in several pictures.  It’s not at all awkward, or anything.  He also poses with Bran’s mom, who still doesn’t really know who he is, but thinks he’s the most gorgeous thing she’s ever laid eyes on.  She giggles and tentatively gropes his muscles as the cameras click away.  Luke is a good sport about all over it.  He’s used to it, after all.  Meanwhile, I feel like I’m growing fangs and claws here.

It’s the same thing at the wedding reception.  Luke is the Pied Piper; wherever he goes, everyone follows.  Megan has him seated at the wedding party table, and it’s constantly surrounded.  Not because people want to talk to the bride and groom—you know, the reason why we’re all gathered here.  It’s definitely more annoying when the people drooling over your fake boyfriend are related to you in some way.  Lucy Bahr, who once called me a psycho bitch trapped in a man’s body, is acting like we’re best friends right now.  I haven’t seen her since her mother’s third wedding.  I thought she died.

The only time Luke and I get any privacy is when he asks me to dance, and then drags me onto the candlelit dance floor when I say no.  A slow song with a sexy beat is playing, and he puts his hands on my hips and draws me close.  He moves effortlessly to the music, and I have no choice but to move with him.  We’ve actually danced together before, so it’s not as awkward as I’m probably making it seem.

“Hey, I liked your speech,” Luke says with the beginnings of a smirk.  “It was pretty epic.”

“No one warned me that I was supposed to talk,” I say, rolling my eyes.  “I’m not responsible for what comes out of my mouth when I’m not prepared.  And like most of them didn’t already know that Bran was my boyfriend first.  They’re just lucky I didn’t bring up the sex on
my
bed thing.”

Luke starts laughing in that deep utterly masculine way of his.  “You never fail to entertain me, Tiger.  No matter what.”  He smiles down at me, but his beautiful eyes seem serious.  “Can I keep you?”

That fluttery feeling in my stomach intensifies.  My hands start to fall away from his shoulders, but Luke grabs them and secures them around his neck, putting me almost flush against him.  I breathe in the cool sexy scent of his cologne, and lust hits me like a big rig.

What the hell is happening to me?  My movements become stiff and uncoordinated.  Luke pulls back to look at me with just a hint of a smile.  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

I look away, cricking my neck to the side.  “My hair,” I mutter.  “I’ve got about a millions pins sticking me in the scalp right now.”

“Hm…let me see if I can help you with that.”

Luke reaches up to my hair and gently pulls a pin out.  Then another and another, until one curl after another falls out of my bun—and my hair is loose and flowing down my back.  He puts the pins in his suit pockets.

“Better?” he asks, tenderly arranging long locks of hair over my shoulders.

I can barely speak at this point.  I am so confused and flustered—and confused.  The feeling of my hair brushing against my bare back is nearly painful to my overly sensitized skin.  I stand very still and stare up at him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing, Luke?” I whisper.

He leans closer, his mouth next to my ear.  “I’m seducing you.  That okay with you?”

I slowly shake my head.  “I don’t want to be seduced.”

“Too late,” he says, and kisses me.

The kisses are slow, melting, and absolutely tortuous.  We hold on to each other like we’re afraid to let go, oblivious of everything else.  I don’t hold anything back.  All my doubts, fears, and insecurities are washed away in warm waves of magic.  God, if he kisses all his co-stars like this, then it’s no wonder they always look on the verge of orgasm in his presence.  I feel like I could—

What the hell is poking me in the ass?

I break apart from Luke to glare at the little girl staring up at me with wide solemn eyes.

“Please stop,” she says in an annoying little girl voice.  Then she calmly walks away.  She should be running.

I turn to go after the little monster, but I am still weak-kneed and on fire from those amazing kisses.  I stumble and fall back against Luke, who immediately catches me.

“We need to talk,” he says grimly, holding an arm out to steady me.

He positions me in front of him, keeping a firm hold on my hips as we exit the banquet room.  It feels like all eyes are on us as we leave.  I know everyone’s thinking the same thing—that we’re running away to have sex.

You know what?  They’re right.

Chapter 20

Once outside of the reception room, he grabs my hand and leads me down a short hallway.  We duck into a darkened recessed area next to a carpeted flight of stairs, and Luke immediately lets go of me to start pacing.

I lean against the railing for support and watch his frustrated movements.  “I thought you said the next time you kissed me, I would be naked and under you,” I say, just to rile him up.

Luke flashes me a dark look.  “I’ll take a rain check on that.”  He yanks irritably at his tie, loosening it around his neck so that it hangs slightly skewed.

Why the hell does he seem so pissed?  I know he was as into those kisses as I was—the evidence kept poking me in the back as we left the party.  So why isn’t he smiling at me right now?  Why isn’t dragging me to his truck so he can have his way with me?  Not that I would let him.  Well, probably not, at first.