Page 38 of Right With You
The moment I sent the message, I wanted it back. Just as quickly, it showed asreadand response dots bubbled up. I wished I didn’t care what Luc thought of my new cocktail dress or the way I’d styled my hair in loose waves to my shoulders. I didn’t normally try this hard, and something about doing so tonight made me feel naked rather than armed with fashionable clothing.
“If he is anything less than speechless from you in that dress, he’s an idiot and I will require him to come to my doorstep so I can slap him with a kid glove.”
I chuckled at the image of Dove swatting Luc’s cheek with an empty glove. She was definitely still in her historical romance era.
“Thank you. I just want this to go well. It’s all pretty pointless if it’s not believable.”
I could accept I was pretty, but Luc had literally been a model. Aurelie was just about the prettiest woman I’d ever seen, and her husband matched her in an equal yet opposite way. Would Luc’s grandfather take one look at me and instantly know I was a woman struggling to hold my life together? Would he see through me as quickly as I feared?
“You’re amazing, whatever happens. I love you and I know you can do this.”
Her faith in me bolstered my courage, and I took one last look in the mirror. Hair wavy but sleek-looking, makeup as expertly done as I ever managed with subtle cat-eye black liner and a little bronzer and blush to give me color I didn’t naturally have thanks to my work schedule, and a cherry-plum lip color that matched the pretty maroon and fuchsia of my dress. It was bold, but the fitted shape highlighted my waist and gave grace around my middle. I wore wedges because I would likely have to wear actual heels for the gala, and I wasn’t about to do that to myself twice in one week.
The doorbell startled me out of my perusal, and I shuffled to get to the door, pulling it open and working to calm my breath as Luc walked in wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt and sneakers.
“Sneakers?” I asked, not able to eke out a full sentence since the sight of him winded me.
His facial hair was perfectly styled, short but purposeful, and his hair looked coiffed but not glued in place. The little piece that sometimes fell into his eyes currently rested on his forehead and I wished I could say it didn’t happen, but it did—my stomach flipped.
He was just so stupidly handsome, it was unavoidable.
And the look on his face…
His jaw flexed and his eyes became nearly smokey as they slipped down over me, then back up, each inch set on fire with his gaze.
“You look incredible,” he said, stepping closer.
My pulse jumped and I swallowed, practically vibrating with nervous anticipation.
“You do, too,” I said, my eyes locked on his.
He swayed forward, and I lifted my chin, not far from begging for him to finally try out the whole kissing thing, when he straightened, his brow bunching as he said, “We need to talk.”
Oh.
That’s so much less fun than kissing.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Luc
She was stunning.
Literally.
It felt like I’d been tazed as I walked in the door and took in her legs revealed under the flounce of her dress and the way it traced her curves… she could turn eyes on a normal day in her casual attire at work, so when she put in all this effort to be even more alluring? I was doomed.
And I’d nearly kissed her, which would’ve been both insane, and the worst way to break a promise. I’d told her I wouldn’t kiss her until she asked me to, but damn did I hope she’d decide she wanted to ask me before all of this was over.
Something inside me sank at the thought, but I pushed that slump away. Right now, before I got confused about what this was, we needed to discuss what she should expect. Aurelie had sent me a text this evening reminding me I needed to be honest about who our grandfather was, and I planned to do just that.
“Should we sit?” she asked, fidgeting with her fingers and turning toward the living room.
“Sure,” I said, determined to sit on the chair and not next to her on the couch. I’d want to touch her, and being knee to knee with her golden bare skin revealed by the skirt of her dress was not the right choice.
“My grandfather already?—”
“I met your sister?—”
