Page 22 of Book Boyfriends
A lopsided grin curls his lips. “Am I wrong?”
I open and then close my mouth.
“It’s not a judgment… Not on you, at least,” Owen offers.
“It is a judgment of the fools who don’t see the diamond in front of them,” Lord James adds, his caramel-smooth voice dropping low.
“How do you know I’m single?” I mutter, fiddling with the hem of my blouse.
“The only scents here when we arrived were you and him.” Lars points at me and then at Wentworth, who sprawls in his bed in the corner, asleep. “If you were mated, they’d be all over you. Even if it’s been days, their scent infuses itself to you. The mated smell different, two distinct aromas that meld into one… And you are not mated.”
“Again, rude.” Lips pursed, I flick a wrist at him. “And what makes you think you’re here because of that?”
“We’re all drawn to you. Like a siren’s song, the vision of you called us. That irresistible song is powerless compared to the thrall of your beauty. Never had I known beauty until my eyes clamped upon you.” Lord James saunters closer with jungle-cat grace, ready to pounce on its meal.
And I’m dinner.I almost gulp. Every muscle in my body spools tight with conflicting emotions. They’re not real, but the attraction that pulses through me is more real than anything I’ve felt in a very long time. Not since Will or the momentary attraction to Davis.Eww, why am I thinking about him at this moment?
“They really were fools,” he murmurs, brushing a tendril of my hair behind my ear, the heat of his stare almost having its way with me.
“Who?” The question is breathy.
“Every man who has been in the same vicinity of you for more than a moment without falling to their knees to worship you.”
“Oh dear,” I squeak.
“No flirting,” Lars yanks Lord James away by his collar.
“This is not flirtation. This is seduction. Quite different, I assure you. I am certain that you do not know the difference. No doubt your idea of seduction is hoisting someone over your shoulder and taking them back to your lair.” Lord James jams a finger into Lars’s chest.
“Your mother didn’t seem to mind. Also, you’re confusing her.” He crowds Lord James, causing him to take two steps back. “This is overwhelming her.”
“You are not supposed to be smelling her.”
“I’m not. Just look at Georgia’s face.”
Lord James peeks around Lars and studies me for a beat. His features squint with concern at whatever he sees there.
“Alright. Let’s add no seduction to the rules.” He steps away from Lars. “At least, until my lady says otherwise.”
“Ourlady,” Lars growls.
“Our?” I guffaw.
The absurdity of this situation slams into me with the blunt force of a train. I’m standing in my living room with two men I dreamed up and brought to fictional life from my books fighting over me while a third one stands by half-concerned and half-confused. Belly-deep laughs rack through me. The intensity of my laughter causes my knees to buckle, and I fall to the carpet, plopping onto my ass, with loud gulping laughs. Wentworth trots over, nuzzling into my arms.
“Georgia?”
“My lady?”
“Rabbit?”
Raising my hands in the air, I shake my head. The laughter steals my ability to speak. As unreal as this entire situation is, what breaks me is that these three men that I wrote believe they are here to date me. That, after all the bad dates, my Mr. Right may have just been in one of my books.
“Someone approaches.” Lars grits out, his spine straight.
The doorknob turns, and then a loud bang at my door silences my laughter. My three would-be suitors meet my wide eyes.
Lars prowls to the door and sniffs. “Not a threat. They smell related to you, Georgia.” He tosses a ‘not sorry’ expression atme over his shoulder. “You didn’t say anything about me not smelling anyone else.”
