Page 2 of An Inconvenient Plan
He gritted his teeth. “Yeah.” He snagged her dress off the floor and handed it to her with the shoebox of money. “You should go.”
“You’re rejecting me?” she asked in a small voice.
He stroked her hair to soothe the rejection, surprised at how soft it was. He’d thought it was hair-sprayed into perfection. “I’m taking the high road for the sake of our family. I just wanted you to come over, get the money, and, you know, bury the hatchet.”
She kicked his shin, and he jumped back. “Go to hell!” she hollered and then hurled the shoebox at him.
He threw an arm up before the box could hit his head. The lid popped off on contact, and money flew everywhere—twenties, tens, fives, and singles—a five-hundred-dollar mess. She’d basically emptied her wallet every time he’d showed up for a wedding. All part of her business plan as a wedding planner. His part in the transaction was not so commercial—he couldn’t stay away from her. He either needed to be committed for insanity or commit. Holy shit. Was he ready for a commitment? With her? He swallowed hard. No, it couldn’t be. He couldn’t possiblywantto get further entangled with the most high-maintenance difficult woman on the planet. Doomed to fail, he reminded himself. Glued together forever by family. Hailey the beauty queen was off-limits.
She stepped into her dress and pulled it up in jerky motions.
“Hailey—”
“No, call me princess. Make sure you really sneer.” Her luscious breasts disappeared from view as she finished getting the sleeveless dress in place, reached back, and worked at the zipper. “I’ll call you what you really are—a jackass!” That was much worse than her usual cad, beast, or scoundrel.
She marched to the front door.
He followed. Her dress was only halfway zipped up she was in such a hurry. “Come on. I’m trying to do the right thing.” She grabbed the doorknob, and he caught up to her, snagging her by the hips. “Hold up.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Zipper.” He pushed her long hair over one satiny soft shoulder, barely resisting sinking his teeth into the exposed skin along the nape of her neck.No, no, no.He did the zipper for her. He really should be named a saint for this, except he could never earn sainthood because he did it slowly, greedily taking her in. The curve of her ass, the dip in her lower back, the straight line of her spine, all that skin. Finally he stopped torturing himself, finishing the zipper between her shoulder blades. Definitely Saint Josh here.
She turned. Her pale blue eyes reflected desire, anger, and hurt, all wrapped up together.
His voice came out gruff. “New start tomorrow. Clean slate.”
She lifted her chin in her usual haughty way. He couldn’t work up much ire with the memory of her near-naked body burned into his brain. “Maybe I don’t want a new start.”
“Then I’ll have to try extra hard to convince you. We’re probably going to be family soon.”
She whirled, raced out of the apartment, and slammed the door behind her.
He rubbed the back of his neck, turned, and spotted her coat hanging over the sofa. He snagged it and went out the door, but she was already gone. Geez, she moved fast.
He caught up with her marching down the sidewalk, huddled against the cold. It was the middle of February in Connecticut, dead of winter. “You forgot your coat.”
She took it and put it on, never breaking stride. “Thank you.”
He kept up. “You’re just going to walk back to Garner’s? It’s a good twenty-minute walk in the cold. I’ll drive you.”
“No.”
“Come on. You’re being stubborn to your own detriment.”
She stopped suddenly, surprising him. “Has it occurred to you that I don’t want to spend even one more minute with you? My pride is in tatters, and I don’t want to hear one more stupid thing out of your mouth.”
“Would it help if I offered my desire and consent too?” Not that he’d act on it. He was just trying to restore her tattered pride.Tattered.Another old-fashioned word that would’ve made him laugh if it weren’t for the grim truth that she’d rather walk home in the bitter cold than drive in a car with him. FUBAR. Mission fail.
She jabbed a finger in his chest. “This is exactly why I don’t want to talk to you. You think it’s all a game, that I have no feelings whatsoever.”
“I don’t think that. I was trying to give you back your pride.”
“Too late.”
“I’m getting my car. I’m driving you.”
“Do whatever you want. It’s no concern of mine.”
