“It’s a pretty good line,” she admitted.
“And an erotic experience for any woman.”
“You are so full of it.”
“You could be instead.”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. A man and woman stepped inside, sparing her from trying to think of a snappy comeback. The young couple looked at them, smiling from ear to ear.
“You two are so cute. Look at him staring at you. Another couple in love,” the ginger-haired woman gushed.
Zoe shifted from one foot to another. “Oh, we’re not together. He’s not—”
“But the way—”
“Don’t listen to her. She’s totally in love with me,” Christian said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?” He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.
Zoe wanted to shoot him a dirty look, but the woman looked like a puppy that had just had its favorite treat taken away. “Totally,” she said through clenched teeth.
Clearly mollified, the woman smiled. “Aren’t they cute, sweetie?”
Sweetie beamed at his companion, kissing her softly on the cheek. “Almost as cute as you, Mrs. Andrews."
Mrs. Andrews threw her arms around her husband, leaning back in the cradle of his arms. “If you think I’m cute now, wait until we get back to our room, Mr. Andrews,” she purred before whispering in his ear, making his eyes widen.
Mr. Andrews looked at them. “What can I say? I’m a lucky man.”
“Congratulations,” Zoe said, mentally making a note of the Andrews. Quickie wedding in Vegas would be an excellent undercover storyline for her Katrina Steele series.
Christian echoed her sentiments, but his voice didn’t ring true to her ears. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but he was busy playing with his cell.
“Oh, Perry, just wait until our families hear about this. They won’t believe that we did it!”
“They won’t believe I met and married the love of my life after knowing you for only forty-eight hours?”
“Forty-eight hours and sixty seconds,” the really new Mrs. Andrews corrected before she passionately kissed her husband.
A few seconds later, the doors opened again and the now amorous couple got out without a second look at them.
“I give them six months.” Christian slid his phone into his pocket
“Until what?” She ducked out of his side embrace.
“Until they get a divorce.”
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “What a horrible thing to say. They could have a long and happy marriage for all you know.”
He crossed his arms and glared back. “After forty-eight hours of knowing each other? Not bloody likely.”
“I take it you don’t believe in love at first sight.”
“Hardly. My parents have known each other their entire lives and can’t stand to be in the same room for longer than five minutes.”
“Couples fight, but it’s how you make up that counts.”
“My mother lives in France with her lover while my father divides his time between London and St. Petersburg with his. They don’t plan on making up. Ever.”
“Oh, well,”—She nibbled on her bottom lip.—“Aren’t divorced people allowed to have significant others?”
His beautiful mouth lifted at the corner. “They’re still married.”
She gaped at him for a moment. No wonder he thought what he did. With parents like his, she might be of the same opinion. “That’s terrible.”
“Sorry, love, not everybody lives in Pleasantville or has the fairy tale marriage.”
“Well, I think it’s romantic that the Andrews could do something so life changing on a whim. Maybe you should try it.” She flung her arm out and watched in horror as her purse went sailing into his chest. “I’m so sorry; it slipped. I’m a bit of a klutz at times.”
The side of his mouth quirked as he held the beige Coach bag out to her. “I might have noticed that about you.”
“Sorry,” she said again, her cheeks heating.
He pushed away from the wall. “Anyway, who are you to lecture me about spontaneity? I bet you’ve never done a crazy thing in your life. Hell, you probably sit in church every Sunday in a pure white dress, thinking pure white thoughts while some dumbass of a boyfriend is too busy to notice the naughty lingerie you’re wearing underneath.”
His lashes lowered over his eyes, giving them a slumberous, sexy quality as he added, “And you do nothing about it.”
Had he hacked into her email account and read her messages to Melanie? His assessment of her relationship with her ex was so close to the truth that she wanted to throw her purse at him again. On purpose and at his head.
“I can be spontaneous,” she insisted.
“You need to let me spontaneously screw you.”
“Seriously?” She shoved a finger at his muscular chest.“You need to spontaneously combust.”
“Still not impressed,” he said, catching her hand with his large one. A thrill of heat emanated from where he touched her. “You can do better.”
“I spontaneously got in here with you, didn’t I?”
A smirk fit his lips as a teasing light entered his eyes. “Yeah, riding in an elevator with a man is so spontaneous. Someone alert Perez Hilton.”
“You... you.” She smacked her palm against her dress. Her purse fell to the floor with a thud, but she was beyond caring about something so trivial. “You are so irritating. You drive me insane with your cocky ego and dumb pick-up lines. You make me want to… to just… I want to…” This was her chance. She could tell him exactly what she thought of him. Tell him exactly what a pure asshat he was and let him fend for himself, no matter how nicely he asked her to help him.
He leaned over, lips parted in obvious invitation and she took a small step closer. He tugged her even closer. Heat from his body touched hers. Oh, God. All thoughts of telling him anything dissolved like sugar in hot tea.
“To what?”
She grabbed onto one of his wide shoulders and slammed her mouth against his, almost knocking him over with the ferocity of her kiss until they fell into a corner. He remained motionless at first, letting her kiss him. Then his mouth parted and his tongue teased her lips, and she couldn’t think of any reason why she hadn’t let him do this at the first opportunity.
He cupped her face, tenderly rubbing her jaw with his thumbs as he broke their kiss. “That wasn’t our first kiss.”