He reached across the table and held my hand for a moment. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that you haven’t been able to go after what you want.”
I held his gaze for a moment. I hadn’t noticed how bright blue his eyes were before now. The club had been too dark, and yesterday his eyes were bloodshot as hell. The corner of my mouth tipped up in a smile. I barely knew my new husband, but what I did know of him, I liked already. I cleared my throat. “Well, we should probably get to the nitty gritty.”
We spent the next hour quizzing each other on our birthdays, parents’ names, and life history before Meredith arrived with lunch.
“How’s theget-to-know-yougoing?” She collapsed into a chair.
Derek and I exchanged a look. “Well, my new wife has a public persona and the real her. I have to get to know both and keep them separate, all in the space of a day.”
Meredith gave him a sympathetic head tilt. “It’s past time the real Rosalind got a chance to shine, but that’s just my opinion.”
I shot her a look. “You know why I can’t just willy-nilly run off to be a photographer.” We’d been over this before. I’d shown Meredith more of my photography than anyone else. She was one hundred percent behind me taking a chance. She hadn’t grown up poor, but she’d had to pull herself up by her bootstraps more than I ever had. To her, a few years of uncertainty would be worth the end goal.
I disagreed.
I had earned my share of the Huxley money, and I couldn’t throw that all away for a dream.
Meredith pushed herself out of her chair and sighed. “Yes, I know. I guess you staying here keeps me employed. Let me know if you two need anything.”
Once she was out the front door, I turned my attention back to Derek. Right now, it was one day at a time.
“Is that all we need to figure out?” he asked, taking a bite of his sandwich. It looked comically small in his big hands.
I picked at my salad. “No, actually, we need to figure out our relationship history. Where and how we met. How you proposed, all of that.”
“Going to have to be quite the story to make people believe you would give the time of day to a schmuck like me.”
I took the opportunity to look him over. He was tall and wide, his biceps pushing the sleeves of his shirt up his arms. His hair had been long, but the stylist had shaved the sides and styled the longer top, so it swooped over the top of his head. He had a full beard that was neatly trimmed, and his eyes sparkled from under his thick, dark brows. Frankly, my husband was hot. He had a look that was like manicured grunge or sophisticated blue-collar.
My public image was short skirts, perfect makeup, and wild antics. From looks alone, we were an odd pairing. Based on our conversation this morning, we had a lot in common. I was also a hundred percent attracted to him. Based on having his tongue down my throat on the dance floor, the feeling was mutual.
Briefly, I wondered if he would make another move. We were married after all, and he’d had his hands and mouth all over me the other night, not that he remembered. Sober, he might be too much of a gentleman to cross the line. Pursuing sex with anyone but each other during that time would be risky.
I bit my lip. With all that was going on, the last thing I needed was to be distracted by wanting to seduce my husband.
Chapter 5
Derek
Awoman who was a stylist or media relations person bustled around the bedroom, pulling clothes out of bags and laying them out. Rosalind stood nearby with Meredith, discussing the merits of one shirt over another. Personally, I didn’t see the difference between what she had brought and what I already owned, aside from the brand name. With how tight the lines around Rosalind’s mouth were, I decided to stay out of it.
I debated sanding down the putty I had applied yesterday. Then I could start repainting the wall, but figured my wifey would be mad if I got covered in dust and paint. They finally settled on a blue button-up shirt that looked like something I would throw over a t-shirt at work and a pair of jeans. Not really groundbreaking stuff, but at least it would be comfortable. I got dressed as I was instructed and sat like a good boy while my hair was styled with some goop that smelled like a mix of industrial chemicals and baby powder.
Rosalind appeared, looking casually polished in jeans and a curve-hugging tank top. Her hair hung in waves down her back, and her makeup was understated and flawless. The wedding ring on her finger sparkled, and I made a mental note to ask her how we got wedding rings in the middle of the night.
She faced me and ran a critical eye from my shoes all the way up, her eyes softening as they landed on my face. I didn’tfollow the celebrity gossip magazines the way my sister did, but the impression I had of Rosalind was night and day from the woman I stood in front of. The media liked to present her as an empty-headed party girl. Her family clearly agreed since they judged her intelligence on business alone. Understanding that her entire image was calculated put the whole thing in a different light.
“You look good.” She reached out and straightened the collar of my shirt, and I resisted the urge to lean into her touch.
“So do you.”
She blushed a little, and I liked that more than I should. She must be used to people complimenting her on how she looked, but mine gave her a genuine smile.
“So, talk me through this one more time.”
She turned to face the mirror and fiddled with her hair even though it already looked perfect. “The paparazzi will get bored of us eventually, but not until they have enough information for a good story. Rather than let them stalk us and make stuff up, we are going to spoon-feed them the story we want them to write. We are going to go to lunch at a popular place on the strip, and my agent is going to tip off the media where we are. They see us being a loving, married couple. Take a few pictures, and hopefully that is step one to getting them out of my front yard.”
She was a good foot shorter than I was, and the high-heeled boots she wore didn’t do much to help that. I knew she’d fit perfectly under my arm, tucked against my side. “They are going to expect to see us touching, holding hands, kissing, even.” I stepped a little closer behind her, and she caught my eye in the mirror. “If we don’t want it to look awkward, maybe we should practice first.”
