Nine

Nine

DESI

I lean back in the lounger and take a sip of my wine. The trees surrounding Jace's backyard wear half their leaves in burnt orange. The other half litter the ground or blow in the late fall breeze. Today will be one of the last days to comfortably sit outside and watch the sun set. It won't be long before the mornings are frosty and snow covers the ground. It will be like the chill I've felt from Jace over the past week. We haven't spoken more than a few words, most of which are Can you get cereal at the store? or Please turn down the TV. And to make things more awkward, Cannon has been in and out of town for business, so our buffer is gone.

"And then she got in her face and had the nerve to tell her if she didn't like it, she could take her ass home. Can you believe—" Meredith's eyes go wide and her mouth drops. It's the first time she's stopped talking in the past twenty-five minutes. "Oh wow. Where is that little beefcake off to tonight?"

I look over my shoulder just in time to see Jace rounding the corner toward his BMW. I turn back to face her and cross my arms over my chest, pretending I don't notice how delectable he looks in his suit. "I don't know, and to be honest, I don't really care."

"Oh no. Is there trouble on Fantasy Island?"

I snicker at Meredith's ridiculous name for the house. She says I'm living the dream of millions of women—a clean house, no kids, and two hot single men under one roof.

"Oh, no, everything is peachy. If you don't count the fact that Jace is a type-A, overbearing neat freak who has ridiculously high standards that no one can ever live up to. We got in a fight because I used his bathtub without asking—which now that I say it out loud does sound kind of bad. After that, he shrank all five pairs of the new jeans you helped me pick out. And then, he and I almost—" I stop and shake my head. "He's just been a jerk, and I'm sick of it."

Meredith takes a sip of her red wine. "I'm trying to live vicariously through you, and you're destroying my fantasies. This domestic situation of yours is starting to sound like married life."

"Sorry," I grumble, pulling my chunky sweater closed. "He's impossible."

She picks up the wine bottle between us and tips it upside down. Not a single drop falls out. "And to top it off, we're out of wine."

"Oh no, not tonight. That is unacceptable." I hop up from the lounger and beckon for her to follow me through the French doors. I have every intention of raiding Jace's liquor cabinet when I stop short. A large white box sits on the counter. It wasn't there when Meredith and I went outside earlier.

When she stretches on her tiptoes to look at the top of the box, her shirt lifts and I spy a telltale mark that's hidden halfway under the waist of her jeans. My eyes widen but I don't have time to confirm the design before she exclaims, "Hey, it has your name on it!"

Sure enough, my name is written in neat handwriting on the tag stuck to the top. I set my glass on the counter, lift the lid, and move the tissue paper to reveal what's underneath.

Seven pairs of jeans. The first pair I pull out is a size fourteen, curvy, long length—the exact size and measurements I need. My jaw drops as I inspect each pair, finding that every one of them is the right size, and each one is a different wash; the two extra ones are new washes I hadn't even seen before, both extremely flattering and exactly something I'd wear.

I draw my bottom lip between my teeth as I pick up the white card at the bottom of the box.

Desideria,

I'm truly sorry about your clothing. It's been a while since I had a woman in my house, with all the rules about laundry and such. I was honestly just trying to help, and I fucked up. Please accept these as a replacement, plus two extra for my general dickishness.

I left you a bottle of wine on the counter. Enjoy a quiet night to yourself—or share it with Meredith. I'm sure she'd be up to hanging out tonight.

Jace

My lips part as I wordlessly hand Meredith the card. I lift the bottle he left for us and inspect the label. It's too expensive for just sitting around and getting drunk. This is the kind of wine people drink on special occasions.

"Oh yes, Fantasy Island is back in full swing. Jeremy would have just handed me the credit card and told me to buy new jeans. This boy did it for you. If I were single and he would give dating a chance again, I'd be all over him."

"I—"

Dating Jace. Yeah, right. The only kind of dating Jace does is fake dating to impress potential investors at charity dinners.

Oh no.

Tonight is the charity dinner I was supposed to attend with him as his charming girlfriend! No matter how pissed I am, I know how important this is to him; there's no way I would purposely screw this up.

"Meredith! I was supposed to go with Jace to a charity thing tonight for his business! An investor invited me week before last when he saw us out at a bar—it's a long story, but that's where he was going earlier!"

"Are you telling me you have a fake date to attend?" I nod and she grabs my hand, pulling me to the stairs. "This is Grade-A romance novel stuff. You are going to that ball, and I'm about to be your fairy godmother."

I don't even have time to think about the fact that Meredith might actually be my demon godmother before she whisks me up to my room.

An hour later, I'm strolling into one of the nicest hotels in downtown Denver wearing the green silk dress that Jace thought looked nice on me; tonight, I hope it elicits a bigger reaction. My red curls are piled on top of my head, and my makeup is impeccable. Tonight, I want to impress Jace's colleagues, make it up to him for not being here from the start.

He extended an olive branch; now it's my turn.

At first glance, I don't see him anywhere. The room is packed with men in suits and women in elegant gowns. I scan the crowd again, looking for a head of messy brown hair. What if he was embarrassed to show up alone after the fuss Matt made about him bringing me? It'll take a long time to forgive myself if I let him down.

I slide through the crowd, hoping that he didn't pass up this opportunity. Tables with floral centerpieces and fine china are situated around the outskirts of the dance floor. I take in each face until my gaze falls on a man with his back to me. He nods at the others seated at the table with him, and I suck in a quick breath when he turns his head to the side, giving me a glimpse of him.

Jace's hair is combed away from his face, and he's not wearing his black-rimmed glasses. The men carry on a conversation while he nurses a beer, disengaged from the discussion. Gathering my courage, I sneak up behind him and trail my fingers along his shoulder and across his back.

"Hey, baby, fancy meeting you here," I murmur.

He spins around in his seat and his stubble-covered jaw goes slack. His slate-gray eyes sweep over me from head to toe. This time I don't have to ask him what he thinks about my dress; it's clearly doing its part. "Desideria, I thought—"

"My plans fell through, and now I get to be exactly where I want to be tonight."

He opens and closes his mouth before shaking his head like he's clearing the cobwebs out of it. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me," he says, standing and looping my arm in his. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing here?" I ask sweetly, running my palm up and down his arm. "I'm your girlfriend, how could I miss this?"

"The jeans weren't meant to bribe you. I really am sorry that I lost it on you the other day. It was a dick move, and I wanted to replace what I ruined. I told you before that you didn't have to come tonight, and I meant it. You don't need to fake that you're my girlfriend."

I take his hand and tug him out to the dance floor, folding myself in his arms and gazing up at his face. "Thank you for the jeans. I didn't think they were a bribe, I thought they were a sweet gesture and a heartfelt apology." I adjust so we are in a more traditional dancing position, and his hand slides to my waist as I settle my arms around his neck. "And as far as ‘faking' being your girlfriend, I guess you're an okay guy some of the time, so it won't be that hard to do. Plus, I said I'd help you, and I intend to keep my word."

Jace falls silent and grips my waist tighter. "I don't deserve it after the way I reacted. Thank you."

Before I have a chance to reply, he takes my hand, lifting it over my head, and sends me into a spin. When I'm back in his arms, he leads me in a smooth box step to the beat of the seven-piece orchestra. I wasn't expecting him to actually be able to dance. Cannon acted like dancing was some kind of plague to be avoided at all costs. Being less outgoing than Cannon, I assumed Jace would feel the same, but once again, he surprises me.

"Where did you learn to dance like this?" I ask. "I thought I was a decent dancer, but you make me look like a toddler on wobbly legs."

He laughs and the sound vibrates through me. I haven't heard that sound nearly enough. I like it. Judging by the goosebumps on my arms and the sudden ache between my legs, I like it a little too much. I force the sensation away and focus my attention on him.

"My mother owned a dance studio in Colorado Springs. I spent my summers helping her with classes. A lot of the time there wasn't a boy to dance with the girls, so I got volunteered."

The image of a younger version of Jace being told to dance with random girls for the purpose of teaching lessons makes me smile. "That's pretty cute," I say as he twirls me around the dance floor.

I'm so lost in thought and distracted by my body's reaction to his proximity that it takes me far too long to notice that no one else is dancing. Instead, a large group has gathered to watch us.

"Oh shit," I mutter between clenched teeth, my face flaming. "Everyone is watching us."

Jace glances around and cocks a brow. "Not us, you." I sweep my gaze over the delighted faces studying us and open my mouth to tell him he's exaggerating, but he continues talking. "I can't deny that there's something otherworldly about you. The magical glow of your eyes, your striking red hair, and Cannon was right, you do look stunning in this dress."

I'm surprised. Not just surprised but floored. All those nights ago when I thought he wasn't really paying attention, he was. It appears my dress had made an impression on him, and it's doing the same thing tonight. I should pat myself on the back for finding the courage to wear it again. I almost bypassed it for something more muted, but I threw caution to the wind and snatched it from my closet.

"You know no one can hear us, right? You don't have to lay it on quite so thick," I say, keeping a smile on my face.

"I'm not. This is my moment of truth with you. Let me have it."

I swallow and say, "Okay. I will. And thank you."

As we continue to move around the dance floor, I can't ignore the warmth radiating from him or the hard muscles under his crisp white shirt or the way his slacks hug his legs. Everything from the way his suit fits to the innocent brush of his hand on my lower back reminds me that the last time we were this close was during a highly charged moment—we exchanged heated words, we invaded each other's personal space, and we almost kissed. Our lips brushed—soft, rosy lips that are now right in my line of sight. A mouth that has piqued my curiosity. Can Jace Wilder kiss as well as he dances?

The song ends and the crowd erupts in applause. I step out of the circle of Jace's arms and shove my renegade thoughts into the dark corner of my mind. I slam the door shut on them and double lock it. It is one thing to admire Jace's body, although that was a creepy accident, and another to imagine kissing him. It's a line I don't believe he wants to cross with me, no matter how much he stares at me while eating cereal.

Jace and I both give our audience shy smiles and move to exit the floor.

He leans into me and whispers, "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay, I'll be here." An upbeat song I love starts playing and I sway my hips to the beat as everyone else moves back out. "Right here, dancing!"

He nods once before rushing off in the direction of the bathroom, leaving me to wonder if I did something wrong.

But instead of stressing about it, I just close my eyes and let the music sweep me away.