fact he wanted her more than any woman he had ever known was beside the point.
She stepped off the elevator into the parking garage. “I don’t think being engaged to you is going to be anything like I was imagining.”
“If you thought it was going to be without sexual intimacy, I’d have to say you are right,” he said as he helped her buckle into the passenger seat of his car.
He gave in to the urge that had been riding him since the moment she’d opened her door and kissed her. He reined in his desire. Barely. And stepped back.
He closed her door and took several deep breaths before moving around the car to slide into the driver’s seat.
Her eyes glowing with blue fire, she asked, “No pretense of waiting for our wedding night?”
“We made our vows at the overlook this afternoon. Nothing said later between us will be any more profound.” He started the engine, but didn’t back out of the parking spot, waiting with an odd feeling in his chest for her reply.
“I thought it felt that way...like it was profound.”
“It was.” He put the car in gear.
“So what? You consider us married now?” She sounded like she didn’t believe her own words and yet he knew she had felt the weight of the promises they’d made earlier.
“As good as, yes.”
“You make your own rules, don’t you?”
“You are just now figuring this out?”
THE ENGAGEMENT DINNER was a lot more enjoyable than Maddie had expected it to be.
Especially considering the fact the guest list had grown to include some Archer second cousins, a Madison great-aunt, one of Misha’s nephews and his wife, who just happened to be visiting friends who owned a vineyard outside of Napa, and Romi.
Maddie’s father was all smiles, though underlying his bonhomie was an unfamiliar reticence with her that gave Maddie a certain level of comfort. He had not escaped this morning’s debacle in the conference room unscathed.
Small winces indicated he did not like her new habit of calling him by his first name, either, but if he wanted her to stop, he’d have to ask. Nicely. And behave like a father. Somehow.
She hadn’t started calling him Jeremy to hurt him, but because it simply hurt her too much to refer to a man who treated her like a stranger more often than not as Father.
Vik acted as a buffer between them, not exactly a new role for him, but one he hadn’t played with any consistency in six years.
Taking it a step further than he used to, Vik actually physically stood between her and others in unconscious protection whenever she felt herself growing uneasy. While no one had the bad taste to actually mention the articles spawned by Perry’s lies, family could manage intrusiveness in subtle ways strangers never could.
Thankfully, Vik seemed to recognize her moods—sometimes even before she did—and took steps to make sure the questions didn’t get a chance to edge into being blatantly intrusive.
Tellingly, no one seemed to find it hard to believe they’d been carrying on a relationship outside the media’s radar for months now. Not even Misha’s nephew evinced surprise at the engagement.
Everyone was happy to congratulate Maddie and Vik, making her feel like maybe this thing could really work.
Regardless of what had precipitated the engagement, their friends and family considered them a good match. A big part of her agreed.
She only hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake...that Vik was the man she was discovering. More the white knight in Armani than the heartless tycoon following in her father’s footsteps that she’d seen him as for the past six years.
Vik’s grandparents were wonderful, as always.
Misha was a gray-haired, slightly stooped version of Vik with an exuberant warmth very unlike his more reserved grandson. A retired scientist, Ana was both highly intelligent and gently affectionate by nature. She wasn’t as overt as her husband, but she would make a wonderful great-grandmother for Maddie and Vik’s children.
The magazine photographer turned out to be extremely good at fading into the background and Maddie found herself relaxing and enjoying the first real family dinner she remembered since her mother’s death.
* * *
“Your grandparents are such nice people.” Maddie allowed Vik to remove her coat and his own before taking both of them and hanging them in the hall closet.
Such a simple thing to do. She’d done it hundreds of times for other guests, but never with the same homey feeling—or sense of irrevocability that washed over her as she closed the closet door.
Vik was staying the night.
And Maddie’s heart was pounding in her chest like a bass drum.
Not from fear, though. No, nothing like it, though that surprised her. Shouldn’t there be at least a little anxiety?
She’d never done this before, after all.
But all she felt was excitement.
Maybe it was because she knew Vik would leave if she asked him to. Only she didn’t want him to leave.
She wanted him to follow through on the promise of passion in their kisses earlier. Besides, if they weren’t compatible in bed, that could be a real problem.
Right?
Only what were the chances when his kisses turned her inside out. Self-justification much?
She made a sound of self-deprecating humor.
“Liking my family is a source of amusement for you?” Vik’s hands landed on her shoulders before he turned her to face him.
His expression wasn’t mocking or judging, just inquisitive.
She smiled up at the beloved handsome face as she shook her head. “No, I was thinking about the things we tell ourselves to justify doing what we want to do.”
His look promised things she’d never experienced but was pretty darn sure she wanted to. “What things do you want to do?”
“Like you don’t know.”
He shook his head. “I’m still a little stunned you’ve never done them before.”
“Pretty pathetic, huh?”
“In what way were you pathetic?” Vik asked in a tone that didn’t bode well for anyone who might have used that word to describe her.
Including herself.
She liked the feelings his instant protectiveness engendered in her despite the fact she thrived on her independence.
Feeling a little odd about that, she moved away from him and crossed the living room, which was decorated in her favorite shabby chic. While she loved the perfect blend of distressed wood furniture, floral damasks, lifelike silk bouquets set in epoxy to look like water, the pristine whites and abundance of feminine styling screamed “single woman living alone” to her.
And while there was nothing bad about that, she wasn’t as pleased by the fact she’d never even had a short-term relationship. She’d be happier if something in her home indicated the need to take someone else’s preferences, or even needs, into account.
“What would you call a twenty-four-year-old virgin?” she asked, turning back to face him.
“Picky.” His smile melted her.
She grinned up at him. “That’s one word for it.”
“You