Chapter 2
He had no right to sit there looking so good and smelling so good. Not while she was panicking and furious with him. The smile he’d given her when she’d stormed into the room was knee-weakening. And resolve-deadening.
“I was editing the wedding video while waiting for the Bali show to go through post-production. Maybe there’s a clue as to how the fuck this happened here.”
Laura couldn’t stand how calm Charlie was about this whole thing. If she hadn’t menaced him quite thoroughly when she walked in, he probably would have shrugged a shoulder, opened a beer, and moved on. This didn’t even seem to register as a mild inconvenience for him. And, for some reason, that infuriated her.
She wanted him to act like a dick so she wouldn’t feel guilty about yelling at him. He was being so accommodating and unruffled, despite the video he’d made about his ex-wife and her opinions about his sexual prowess five years ago. She’d watched it after Carla had told her about the television show, and her cousin had assured her that Charlie was not that guy. Jonah and Carla even let him babysit Layla, which spoke volumes about how much they trusted him. Carla barely let her own brother hold Layla—she’d told him that he needed at least five years free of stripper glitter before touching her. She’d been joking, but barely.
Delivering the news that his second marriage was about to be even shorter than his first kind of felt like kicking a puppy.
“Want to watch the tape and figure it out?”
That would be helpful, but she had to get out of this room before spending too much time with him. He was cute and helpful, and the idea of spending time with him—of him wanting to spend time with her even though she was completely broken—terrified her.
“I don’t give a fuck how this happened. I just want it fixed.” She had to stop being such a bitch. When she’d told him about the impromptu wedding, he’d looked just as shocked as she’d been when her grandfather had shared the news with her. This hadn’t been a plot, just a terrible error in judgment. Even though a part of her was dying to know how they’d gotten from small talk to matrimony in a period of hours—or even minutes.
“Come on. You’re not the least bit curious as to how we came to this state of wedded bliss?” He smiled at her, and she had to purse her lips to keep from smiling back.
She was curious, and needing to know when combined with his charm got the best of her. More than how they actually had ended up getting drunkenly married, she wanted to know how this had happened with her entire family around.
Because she could understand why someone would want to marry Charlie Laughlin—just not her. Just looking at him explained his marriageability. He was at least 6’3” or maybe 6’4” and had almost black hair and these arresting blue eyes. Black Irish, Lola had said. He was lean, and he clearly worked out—not as much as her, but no one worked out as much as she did.
But his fabulous looks weren’t what made him so attractive, so disarming. Sure, part of it was the dimple and the mischief in his eyes when he’d looked at her. But it was more than that. When Charlie Laughlin put his attention on her, it was overwhelming.
When he’d looked up as she entered the dark editing room, she’d felt a punch of lust so powerful that it was even more maddening than the fact that she’d drunkenly married a very hot stranger.
And though she’d assumed he was a smarmy douche when they’d met before the wedding, none of that had been borne out by his behavior. He’d been editing his best friend’s wedding video when she’d found him, not snorting lines of blow off various sex workers’ body parts.
She could very well remember why she’d thrown off her strict diet and gotten drunk at the wedding—it hadn’t been entirely clear that she’d be able to return to the company after her last injury anyway, so what was the point? And she knew why she wanted to kiss him—she liked the way his very kissable lips moved, and the sound of his voice made her hot and achy.
He was basically the human equivalent of the flu: contagious, debilitating, and possibly deadly.
While she’d been thinking about how dead sexy he was, he’d been fast-forwarding through video. He must have felt her gaze burning into the side of his face after a few moments because he looked up and said, “What?”
She shook her head. “I guess I’m still in shock. Can’t believe I married you.”
One corner of his mouth rose, revealing a dimple deep enough to stick her whole thumb inside. God, the editing room was cold. That had to be the explanation for her tight nipples and the goose bumps on her arms. And the reason her ribs felt tight around her lungs.
“Come on, I’m not so bad.” His gaze returned to the monitor, and she felt like she could breathe again. “Some women even find me charming.”
“I don’t believe you.” Her words had no fire because she found him charming, but she couldn’t show it. She wasn’t about to start showing weakness now.
She watched as he fast-forwarded the tape, stopping here and there. His hands were kind of beautiful. He had long fingers. Although he was way too rough and tumble to be a ballet dancer, there was something about him that moved with grace and economy.
Needing to stop looking at him, she turned toward the monitor, too. The tape revealed the sun diving behind the horizon, and she knew that the moment—if it was on tape—was coming.
Charlie stopped right at the moment he’d walked over to her at the bar. When she saw her own face, screwed up, trying to feign some imperious nature she didn’t possess, her cheeks flamed. Her parents might have sheltered her from a lot growing up to keep her focused on her burgeoning ballet career, but they’d never taught her to be rude. And she’d been rude to Charlie. But something about him scared her, as though he was going to tip her apple cart right over and destroy the life she had built for herself.
She liked the way he looked too much—and he’d been even better in a linen shirt and pants that had shown his top-shelf ass. Not sure if it was out of embarrassment or a need to see that his posterior really was that distracting, she glanced over now.
Yep. Top. Shelf. Ass.
He just happened to turn at the same time, catching her. Her skin all over was on fire, and it made her feel like she was losing her mind. She was around gorgeous bodies all the time, and didn’t have this reaction. Hell, men nearly as good-looking as Charlie had their hands right up near her business on an almost daily basis, and she didn’t get to the same level of worked up that she was at right now.
Hastily, she looked back at the screen, just in time to see them do the first in now what she remembered as a series of shots. So many shots. And she couldn’t even blame him for getting her drunk because she was clearly making a motion at the bartender for more. And more. And more.
“Can you fast-forward this?”
“No.” His voice held a kind of bewilderment. “I need to understand how you didn’t throw up.”
“We can’t know that I didn’t throw up.”
“Sure we can. I remember kissing you later that evening, and I clearly remember that you didn’t taste like tequila vomit.”
Laura only remembered flashes and scraps of kisses, and she suddenly felt like she’d cheated herself out of something special. She felt even more cheated when past-Laura grabbed Charlie’s hand and dragged him out onto the dance floor. It made her downright salty to not recall the feel of his big hands with the graceful fingers all over her body as they swayed to a slow song. Past-her was such a bitch to be keeping all of those smiles and whispers and jokes that had actually made her laugh to herself. Past-Laura knew how to have fun, and past-Charlie had known how to give it to her.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed. Because she certainly hadn’t done much laughing since returning to work three months ago.
“Can you please just fast-forward?”
Charlie complied, and she was both thankful and bereft of the moments she was now deliberately, soberly ignoring. He stopped the tape again when they surrounded the officiant and dragged him into a corner. After a few minutes of what looked like tense negotiating, past-Laura, past-Charlie, and the officiant disappeared from the screen.
He stopped the tape and they stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them saying anything.
“Well?” She wasn’t precisely sure what she was asking, never having accidentally married a stranger who happened to be a family friend.
“I can call Javi and see who handled his divorce.” That wasn’t a call that Laura wanted to make. Her older cousin would be discreet if she begged, but he would hold her shenanigans over her head if it suited him. “I think we can get an annulment because we were both drunk and we didn’t fuck.”
When she said the word “fuck,” Charlie flinched as though she’d punched him. “I like that you’re blunt, Delgado.” He seemed to collect himself, and nodded. “Go ahead and call Javi. I don’t want to pull in the studio’s lawyers on this one.”
“You have lawyers on hand for accidental weddings during shoots?”
The amusement was back in Charlie’s gaze, and it immediately affected her below the belt. “No. We have had on-camera personalities and producers get into legal trouble, but the people we have on staff are business affairs guys. If it was someone else, I’d probably hand this over to them, but neither of us needs my mom finding out that I got married.”
“Would you be embarrassed if your mom found out you’d married me?”
“I thought the whole point was that no one should find out?” He sighed, and clenched his jaw so his dimple made an appearance. “And I’d prefer it if neither of my parents found out about my second failed marriage.”
She was surprised to hear him joke about it, and felt a pang in her chest. Getting married had been a terrible decision for both of them.
“Yes.” She almost choked on the words because she didn’t want anyone to find out, but the idea that she was an embarrassment to him didn’t sit right with her. It probably sat about as well as her coming in here, guns blazing, demanding to know how he’d tricked her into marriage had less than an hour ago.
After that, they sat in silence for long moments. Very awkward silence. Finally, as she was leaning over to get her purse, he said, “Want to grab dinner?”
She wanted to say yes. It seemed like the right thing to do, the normal thing to do, grabbing a bite to eat with her husband, but she couldn’t. Even this hour in the editing room was stolen from her true love—ballet.
“I can’t. Rehearsal.” He winced again when she said that. “Maybe some other time.”
He stood as she did, like a gentleman. Though she’d stormed into this room, thinking he was the bad guy, he was a gentleman. “How about tomorrow?”
She had rehearsal tomorrow evening, too. Most tomorrows she was busy. A pang of regret roiled her empty stomach. She hadn’t felt so much like she was missing out on a whole other life since she was a teenager. When other kids had gone to Friday night football games, she’d been at rehearsal. A boy from a local school had asked her to the prom, rehearsal. She hadn’t even gone to a normal school, with days filled with academic classes. Academics were crammed in between rehearsals and performances, on road trips, and away from her parents and brothers.
Laura hadn’t even realized that she was on her first date until one of the members of the company tried to kiss her after they’d shared salads after yet another rehearsal.
The idea of going to dinner with Charlie—a nice guy even if he weren’t her husband—was so appealing to her that it had crawled into her bones. Which was why she had to shut it down and say no.
Ballet was the only thing she was good at. Outside of her family, it was the only thing she had. They had sacrificed too much for her to jeopardize it because she wanted something as silly as going on a date. Maybe getting to know Charlie Laughlin, a man who had gotten drunk with her and swept her off of her feet when she wasn’t feeling like herself. A part of her she didn’t let out very often, a part of her that she didn’t know very well wanted to remember the full impact of kissing Charlie Laughlin. That part of her wanted to grab onto the one crazy thing she’d ever done in her life and never let go.
“I can’t. We shouldn’t.” There. She didn’t sound very strong, but she’d shut him down. She turned around to leave, not saying goodbye. She knew that if she said anything else, her no would turn into a yes in less than the space of a “see you around.”
“I won’t sign any annulment papers unless you go out with me.”
* * * *
Charlie hadn’t said a lot of stupid shit over the course of his life. He’d negotiated a whole hell of a lot, too. He was the guy his friends and his brothers called when they were in a tight spot because they knew he could bullshit them out of any hidey hole of trouble with his charm and quick words. And, if there was a woman involved, they called him with the quickness.
Still, when Laura had turned around and tried to leave, his wit failed him. Any other girl he would have been able to talk her into dinner after one of her rehearsals, but he’d smelled that for exactly what it was—an excuse. And he didn’t know why it bothered him so much that she’d seemed to dismiss him after she’d gotten what she wanted.
He just knew that his gut twisted at the idea of never seeing the lovely ballerina again.
The idea that she’d walk out the door, file some paperwork, and be able to pretend that she wasn’t the wild sort of thing he’d seen on screen a few minutes ago? That she wasn’t the desirous and giddy woman he’d kissed and touched and held for one night?
Unacceptable.
Despite the reputation that he’d earned in the aftermath of marriage, he didn’t make a habit of lying. But, as soon as she’d offered to get her family involved with getting this whole “oops we got married” thing fixed, he’d panicked a little, and a fib came out.
“We can’t have sex, though.” Her words were slow, as though she were talking to a small child. Funny how her mind went straight to sex when he’d been careful only to mention dinner.
“Why not?” He smiled, enough so that she would know he was teasing. If they had dinner, it would surely lead to the sex they hadn’t had in Bali. There was too much—something—between them for it not to happen. He’d settle for a quickie with Laura if that was the only thing her schedule allowed. A hot, quick screw against the door of her apartment when he dropped her off after dinner probably wasn’t as romantic as what would have happened on his ideal wedding night, but it got him excited almost as much.
“If we have sex, we can’t get an annulment and we’ll have to get a divorce, which will take longer and be more likely to go public.”
“And that would be a bad thing.” It definitely would be bad for him, and he would make sure it was good before. His ex-wife had lied about him five years ago. Sparring with her was giving him the idea that maybe an annulment was hasty. Perhaps he could convince her to give their marriage as shot. And, if she insisted on ending it, he at least wanted to enjoy his conjugal rights if his relationship record suffered another black mark.
For a few seconds, a moment ago, he’d thought that she was hurt by the idea of him not wanting his mom to find out they were temporarily married. Just a flash of something across her face that had hit him wrong.
“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her dainty breasts up. He couldn’t not look. There wasn’t much about her that he didn’t want to look at.
“Why is it a bad thing? For you, I mean? My mother will lose her mind and light St. Patrick’s on fire with the number of candles it will take to save my soul if we get divorced.” Not to mention what he’d have to deal with from his father. He hated the sting of rebuke he felt from the man. His father was a lion of the business world. But, like male lions in the wild who killed their young, he only respected strength. Two divorces would stink of weakness all the way to Chicago.
Even more than he wanted to avoid censure from his parents, he wanted to know why she was so freaked out by the idea of marrying him. He stepped closer to her and her breath caught, making his dick go more than half-hard.
“Do you have any idea how competitive the world of ballet is?”
He’d thrown in the money for a web series on the American Ballet Theatre School in New York last year, so he had a fleeting understanding.
“A vague one.”
She nodded and her lips turned into a thin line. “If word gets out that I’ve run off and gotten married, the piranhas will start circling.”
“Who are the piranhas?”
“The corps de ballet.”
“Aren’t they—like—your backup dancers?”
She let out a short laugh. “No, they’re the enemy.”
Charlie couldn’t help but smile at the militant set to her jaw. Seeing her so worked up and passionate had him even more determined to get some time with her, to touch her velvet-soft skin and make her grit her teeth with pleasure. He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping to get ahold of himself. “I’ve gotta admit, your military metaphor kind of has me even more turned on.”
She blushed and let out a huff of breath. “Of course, you don’t understand.”
“I understand, but there’s no reason anyone has to find out that we got married.”
“We don’t even know how many people already know.” The panic in her voice decidedly did not turn him on—in fact, he’d do just about anything to assuage it.
“We’re connected through your cousin and my best friend. If we go out to dinner and someone”—he stepped closer to her—“sees us, they’ll probably just assume that we’re dating. You know? Like real people.”
“I’m not real people.” Again, with the school teacher voice that got him hard.
“Sure felt real to me at the wedding.” He ran one finger over her forearm, and the electricity between them nearly set him on his heels.
The flush underneath her olive skin travelled all the way to her hairline when he said that, and he knew she was remembering what they’d done to each other. How shamelessly greedy she’d been with her kisses, how generous with her moans. He wanted that girl back, and he knew he could get her at dinner.
“Just one dinner.” He smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear, almost feeling her heart skip with just that light touch. “I’d like to know a little bit about the woman I married.”
“But no sex?”
That almost sounded like a complaint, but he was going to let it go. He didn’t need to scare her off with the possibility that given some candlelight, delicious food, and his massive flirting ability, they wouldn’t be able to resist ending up naked and sweaty—and in a very real, very consummated marriage.
He put two fingers up in a salute he remembered from the Boy Scouts. “Scout’s honor.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits, and he had to bite his lip to stop from laughing when she said, “You were a Boy Scout? Shocking.”
“Why’s that shocking?”
“It just seems so—wholesome.”
“I’m a very wholesome guy.”
“Yeah, a wholesome guy who marries a strange woman and sticks his hand up her skirt at a wedding.”
“Hey, you called yourself strange, and I’ve only ever done that once.”
“You did a pretty good job with the hand/skirt thing for your first time.”
It was his turn to blush. “You’ve given me enough shit. Agree to dinner.”
“Fine. Sunday night.”
It might be the least romantic night of the week, but he’d take it.