Liars Like Us

33

I drop my arm to my side, then look back and forth between the three men.

Standing between two mere mortals, Callum’s physical beauty is even more pronounced. He’s taller than them both, wider through the shoulders, with a more defined jaw and that stupid sculpted nose and those stunning eyes and that animal charisma that pulses off him like a heartbeat.

He’s simply all-around, ridiculously gorgeous.

God, that’s aggravating.

Everyone seems to be waiting for me to say something, so I go with a haughty “I’m confused. What’s happening?”

His voice low and his eyes burning, Callum says, “We’re getting married. Or did you already forget that you said yes?”

Married? Now? Is the man completely crazy? Rattled and sweating, my pulse haywire, I declare, “We are not getting married.”

My outburst doesn’t ruffle Callum’s feathers. In fact, he seems to enjoy it. He says calmly, “No? Why not?”

I cast around for a reasonable explanation, but my head is spinning and I can’t get it to stop. I finally end up shouting, “You hung up on me!”

Chuckling, Callum glances at his attorney. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. She has a bit of a temper, that’s all.”

William gazes at me doubtfully.

“Would you gentlemen please excuse us for a moment? We’ll be right back.”

Callum crosses to me, takes my arm, and leads me into my office. He closes the door behind us and removes the stapler from my hand. Then he walks to my desk, sits on the edge of it, places the stapler next to the phone, and smiles.

Glaring at him, I say, “Don’t you dare grin at me like that. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Ah, you’re right. Forgive me.” He reaches into his suit pocket and extracts a little black velvet box.

The little black velvet box.

He cracks it open, displaying the Easter-egg sized diamond. “You should put it on before we say our vows.”

I throw my hands in the air. “What’s the matter with you? You hung up on me and left me sitting here thinking it was all a terrible joke!”

“Are you always this dramatic when you’re angry? I’m only asking in case I should prepare myself for a lifetime of tiptoeing around the house.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“You are! You just did! You hung up on me when I said I’d be your wife, then you show up a nanosecond later with an attorney and a priest!”

“Chaplain,” he corrects matter-of-factly.

“I don’t care if he’s the damn pope. I can’t believe the nerve of you.”

Callum lowers his head and studies me through narrowed eyes. Then he snaps shut the box, puts it back into his suit pocket, and stands.

“You’re upset I’m not giving you a proper wedding. You want a white dress and expensive flowers.”

I exhale in aggravation, because not only is he outrageous and overbearing, he’s clueless.

“No. I’m upset you didn’t act like a normal human and communicate with me after I agreed to marry you. Instead, you hung up on me, then showed up not even half an hour later with your dream team without giving me a word of warning.”

I pause to catch my breath and look at him suspiciously. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

I scoff. “For such a rich guy, you spend an awful lot of time cruising bad neighborhoods. Did your attorney and priest just happen to be in the neighborhood too?”

“Chaplain. No, I called them as soon as I got off the phone with you.”

“And they both dropped everything to run to my crappy little bookstore in the middle of the day?”

“Of course. I’m Callum McCord. I could’ve called them at midnight on Christmas Eve and had the same result. And as soon as you have my ring on your finger, and you’re sleeping in my bed, you’ll have the same power.”

Blood pulses in my cheeks. Only this time, it’s not from anger. It’s from hearing him say “sleeping in my bed.”

I can’t help but imagine it. Us, n***d under the sheets together, his hands roving all over my body, his lips on my skin. What would he be like as a lover? Rough? Tender? Dirty? Sweet?

Probably all of the above, if my surging estrogen levels are any indicator.

His gaze sharpens. In a husky voice, he says, “What are you thinking right now?”

I clear my throat and attempt a disinterested expression. “Nothing.”

Head c****d and eyes fierce, Callum moves slowly toward me. “Do I need to put a section in the contract about lying, Emery? Because I don’t like it when you lie to me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say nervously. “And go stand over there. You’re crowding me.”

“How odd. You’ve never seemed intimidated by me before. What could it be that has you so flustered?”

“I’m not flustered. Or intimidated. And why are you such a close talker, billionaire? That’s far enough.”

He’s only about two feet away from me and showing no signs of stopping. I back up a few steps before coming into contact with the closed office door. Flattening myself against it, I watch in panic as Callum advances on me like the Roman army.

When he’s inches away, gazing down into my eyes with the heat of his body warming mine, he murmurs, “I said ‘sleeping in my bed,’ and you melted.”

“I’m not butter. I don’t melt.”

He leans closer until his lips brush the edge of my ear. “Do you want to sleep with me? Is that what has you so wound up?”

I stand there silently trembling for a moment, on the verge of shouting Yes! but then give myself a mental slap across the face.