Married by Monday (The Weekday Brides #2)(9)
Author: Catherine Bybee

“Okay, we give her a trial run. She’ll probably hate living in the burbs after a week and want to go home anyway.”

“Probably,” Sam agreed with a smile. “Thanks.”

Sam hugged her and left her side. Eliza attempted to peel away the material of her dress from her chest. She hated the heat. After flicking open her fan, she found some relief with the forced air against her damp skin.

“Are you ready for those cutoffs?”

Carter’s voice caressed the back of her neck. The vision of him “almost kissing” her flooded her senses. She swallowed but didn’t turn his way. “Do you have any?”

“I can arrange them.” Why did his words sound so much like a seductive offer?

“Trying to get me out of this dress?”

“I’ve had worse thoughts.”

She turned and saw his cocky smile. “Don’t you have a date?”

“Yep.”

“Then why are you standing here flirting with me?” Eliza was a good many things, but a poacher on another woman’s guy, she wasn’t. Even if Eliza had known Carter a lot longer than his arm candy, he didn’t arrive with her and that made him off limits.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“That’s what it feels like. And I have to tell ya, it’s a bad idea.”

“What’s a bad idea?”

“You and me…flirting. We clash. Remember? Last Christmas we were shouting at each other over the Christmas pudding.”

“We were arguing about a call between Green Bay and Carolina. The ref sided with me.”

“The ref was blind.” Her voice rose and all thoughts of Carter flirting with her sailed away like a pesky mosquito running from RAID.

Carter smirked.

“What’s so funny?”

“All you need is a big black stripe, and you’d look like an angry hornet in that dress.”

She would have hurled an insult at him if he wasn’t so flippin’ right. Instead, she huffed out a laugh, glanced down at her dress, and let her arms flop to the side. “God it’s awful. For the record, Gwen picked it out.”

Carter turned around. “On Gwen it isn’t that bad. It’s not good, but…”

“Something tells me Gwen would look good in whipped cream.” She was that beautiful. Classic lines, the perfect height, and laughing eyes. Gorgeous, and currently surrounded by three guys.

“Whipped cream huh?”

Eliza placed her focus on Carter and felt a simmering heat along her skin.

Whipped cream and a trickle of chocolate syrup down your thick chest. Eliza nibbled on her lower lip and a flash of light sucked her out of her brief fantasy.

She and Carter both turned to glare at the photographer. Nonplussed by their anger, the photographer was checking the digital display and nodding. “Man it’s hot tonight,” was all he said before walking away.

“Should we allow that?”

Carter shrugged. “Better than a bar fight.”

For a brief time, Eliza had completely forgotten the fight. “How’s the campaign?”

He hesitated with his answer, then said. “Not good.”

My fault.

“I feel responsible,” she admitted.

“You do?”

“Well, yeah… If I hadn’t taken Gwen there, you guys wouldn’t have followed. One thing lead to another and all that. If there’s something I can do to help.”

Eliza considered repeating her words when Carter stood staring at her. Somewhere in his head, he was thinking up something and struggling with the image it created.

“Carter? Are you okay?”

“Uh huh. Just thinking if there is something you can do.” His words came out slow and steady.

“Right. I was there. I know you didn’t start the fight. I could tell a reporter.”

“Uh huh.” He kept staring and mumbled, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what?”

“Know what?” he repeated her question.

“You’re not making any sense.”

He snapped out of his thoughts. “When are you leaving tomorrow?”

“In the afternoon. I’m flying out with Sam and Blake.”

“So you’ll be in L.A. after that?”

“It’s where I live, Hollywood. Not all of us have the funds to charter a private plane.” Eliza used the nickname Samantha had given him when they met. His big-screen good looks were every producer’s wet dream. Instead of searching for fame, he picked law. Yawn!

“Right,” he said with the smirk returning to his lips. “I have a press conference in two days at the Beverly Hilton. Can you be there?”

She swallowed and felt her palms dampen even more. “To explain what happened?”

“If need be.”

What could she say? It was her fault he needed the press conference. She had to do something to make it right. “Yeah. I can be there.”

Carter let loose a full smile, the one Hollywood would love to have.

“You should get back to your date. I’ll bet she’s looking for you.”

Carter tore his eyes away from her and glanced around the room. Eliza noticed his date laughing at something another man was saying. “Looks like someone’s moving in,” she told him, nudging his arm.

“She cut me loose. They can move in all they want.”

Eliza stared at him. “She dumped you?”

He nodded, but his expression didn’t change. Kathleen obviously wasn’t that important to him. Or maybe there was more to the dump.

“Wait, she didn’t dump you because of the election did she?”

He shrugged.

A strange weight fell on Eliza’s chest. A mixture of relief that Carter wasn’t attached, which was completely unwanted on her part, and dose of what a “rat” Kathleen must be to dump a guy for such a shallow reason. If his date knew Carter at all, she knew that beyond his often arrogant demeanor he’d protect a woman despite how the media would take it. Guys like Carter didn’t exist outside of books.

“She’s not good enough for you anyway,” Eliza mumbled.

“What was that?”

“If a woman is only with you to be the first lady of California, then you don’t want her.” Kathleen was leaning into a Texas cowboy in a five-hundred dollar suit. Probably has an oil field.

“Is that so?” Carter asked.

“Yeah. That’s so.”

The music playing in the background stopped, and the emcee for the event picked up the microphone. “Well folks, looks like we need to do a little cake cutting so we can let the hosts run off and start their third honeymoon.”