A Deal Made In Texas. Michelle Major
can understand...we wanted to keep things private. It was never my intention to deceive you, but—”
“Are you saying that you’re Gavin’s ghost girlfriend?”
“I know it probably comes as a surprise.”
“Understatement of the century,” Schuyler muttered. “You can’t expect me to believe—”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe.” Gavin looped an arm around Christine, dropping a kiss on the top of her head that she felt all the way to her toes. “Christine isn’t a ghost, but think about how you were giving me the third degree. I didn’t want her to have to deal with that, not when I wasn’t here to protect her.”
Christine resisted the urge to whimper. Maybe it was the wine, but the thought of Gavin protecting her made funny things happen to her insides.
Schuyler’s mouth dropped open. She stared at them for several long seconds. Christine tried to act normal and not like she might spontaneously combust at any moment. She rested her head against Gavin’s chest, and as great as dancing with him had been, this took things to a new level. Without having to concentrate on the steps, she could enjoy his warmth and the feel of his rock-solid muscle. Not to mention the way he smelled, a mix of expensive cologne and soap. Would it be weird if she reached up on tiptoe, buried her face against his neck and just sniffed? Yeah, definitely weird.
She waited for Schuyler to call them out on the lie. No way would anyone, let alone Gavin’s perceptive sister, believe that they were a couple.
“Well...okay, then,” Schuyler said slowly. “I’ll admit I’m at a loss for words.”
“Thank heavens for small favors,” Gavin muttered.
“I still can’t believe... I mean how long have you two been an item?”
“A while,” Gavin said before Christine could answer. A good thing, too, because the reality of what she’d done was suddenly crashing over her.
“Don’t tell your dad,” she blurted, earning a frown from Schuyler and a gentle squeeze from Gavin.
“He loves you like you’re part of the family,” Schuyler told her. “You know that.”
“He loves me working for the family,” Christine clarified. “This is different.”
“Gavin, tell her she has nothing to worry about from Dad or Mom.”
“I have already, but you still need to honor Christine’s feelings.” He lifted a hand to Christine’s chin, tipping it up until she was forced to meet his green eyes. This close she could see the gold flecks around the edges. She half expected to see anger or frustration for what she’d done, but he looked totally relaxed.
That made one of them.
“Christine makes the rules,” he murmured and before she could react to that novel concept, he brushed his lips over hers.
The kiss started innocently enough. She had the mental wherewithal to register that his mouth was both soft and firm. He tasted of mint gum and whiskey, a combination that had her senses reeling.
She felt him begin to pull away and some small, brave, underused part of her rebelled at the thought. She wound her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, sensation skittering down her spine when their tongues mingled. A low moan erupted from her...or did the sound come from Gavin? The sound jolted her out of her lust-filled stupor and she jerked back. She’d had a couple glasses of wine, but not enough to excuse her basically mauling this man in front of his sister.
“I guess you guys are the real thing,” Schuyler said with a laugh. “No one can fake that kind of chemistry.”
“Right,” Gavin murmured.
Christine kept her gaze on Schuyler. She had no idea what Gavin was thinking at the moment and was almost afraid to find out.
Schuyler wagged a finger at her brother. “Take care, big brother. Christine isn’t like your usual girlfriends. She’s special. Dad will kill you if you hurt her.”
“I’m not going to hurt her,” he said tightly, and Christine felt the arm still holding her go taut.
“He won’t,” she confirmed. She didn’t need Schuyler reminding Gavin that she had nothing in common with the gorgeous, sexy women he usually dated. “He’s amazing.”
Schuyler laughed again. “If you say so. Shall we head back inside? I need a drink after this little bombshell.”
“We’ll meet you in there,” Gavin said, and Christine wanted to argue. She wasn’t quite ready to face his reaction to what she’d just done.
“Don’t take too long,” Schuyler told them, grinning at Christine. “Maddie should be throwing the bouquet soon. We need to position you front and center.”
Christine tried to laugh, but it came out more like a croak. “Sure,” she managed and waved as Schuyler walked away.
When they were alone, she forced herself to turn to Gavin again. “I’m so—”
Her words were cut off as he fused his mouth to hers.
Gavin hadn’t meant to kiss Christine again. He was still in shock from her announcement to Schuyler. He appreciated what she’d done. He’d been quickly running out of options when it came to distracting his sister from her obsession with his nonexistent girlfriend.
He owed her his thanks, but all he could think of was tasting her sweetness. His hands skimmed along the silky material of her dress, then over her hips, which held just the right amount of curve. And her reaction to him was a revelation. Straitlaced Christine Briscoe could kiss. She met him stroke for stroke, nipping at his bottom lip as if asking for more. Gavin lost himself in her, pulling her tight until her breasts pressed against his chest. As she had when they were dancing, she fit against him perfectly.
She was perfect.
How the hell had this happened?
Voices drifted from around the corner, and he took a step back, knowing the dazed look in her eyes probably mirrored the one in his.
“Hey, ladies,” he called as a group of his mother’s friends passed, several of them craning their necks to get a better look at Gavin and Christine.
He shifted so that he was shielding her from the curious gazes.
“We need to talk,” he whispered when the women had passed.
Christine nodded, staring at the floor.
Gavin drew in a breath. Was she terrified of him now? She’d tried to save him from his sister, and he’d all but shoved his tongue down her throat. She’d seemed a willing participant at the time but now...
Another group of people turned the corner toward them, and Gavin automatically laced his fingers with Christine’s and led her down the hall toward the hotel lobby. Her heels clicked against the pristine marble floors as they passed the stately columns that, along with the beautiful stained-glass dome, was the hallmark of the Driskill’s famous lobby.
“Hey, Christine.” The man she’d been standing with at the bar earlier, Bobby, waved from where he stood in front of the concierge desk. “A few of us are going to bail on the dancing and head to an Irish pub around the corner. Want to—”
“Oh, no,” Christine whispered, her lips barely moving.
“She’s busy,” Gavin called and headed for the elevators along the far wall. She followed him in without protest but tugged her hand away as he hit the button for the fifth floor.
“Are you staying here, too?” he asked, not sure how to broach the subject of what had just happened between them. His wildly successful legal career had made Gavin believe he could talk his way out of any situation. Not so, apparently.
She shook her head, a lock of fiery hair falling forward