His Kind of Perfect (Sugar Bay #1) (17 page)

“Let’s get dinner.”

“I can’t.” She needed time. It was hard to
focus around him and she needed to think. Reality wasn’t kind. Happy endings
didn’t exist. He was young and she refused to pine after him like some love
struck idiot. Their time would soon end.

“Why?” He frowned.

“I’m
not
…” she
said, motioning to her sweaty appearance. He laughed. “You don’t have to sound
so pleased, you know!” There was no way she could appear in public looking this
way. It was too obvious what they’d been up to.

“Can’t help it. I like that you look like
this. In fact, I plan to keep you in this state all night long. But don’t
worry. We’ll go to a little hole in the wall so no one can see you. We’ll have
some fresh seafood. Not that frozen crap that’s been defrosted and has
questionable origins.”

She shook her head even though a huge part
of her wanted to go with him. “Will I see you at the Gala tomorrow night?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“So you’re sure you don’t want to have
dinner with me?”

“I’m sure.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable but it
seemed as if she’d hurt him. Which was wrong because that wasn’t possible.

“Have you tried the stuffed mushrooms? OMG.
They are divine!” Charlie popped another savory bite into her mouth and moaned.
The sounds she made had the guys standing nearby turn and watch with interest.

“Pace yourself. I hear sushi rolls are
coming soon.” She grinned at the orgasmic face her friend made.

“Not to worry darling. I’m a professional.”

Anabelle grabbed a mushroom and nibbled on
the cheese filled morsel, trying to ignore the bundle of nerves clenched in her
stomach.

“Breathe.” Charlie pointed at her with a shrimp
tempura before shoving the thing in her mouth. “Find your happy place. I know I
have.”

Anabelle made a face. Food was Charlie’s
happy place. Her metabolism was a thing of wonder because the girl ate like an
athlete in training, desperate for the caloric intake. If Anabelle didn’t already
love her, it’d be too easy to hate her.

“I wonder who’ll get here first?”

“My guess would be your mother. I’m
surprised she’s not here yet. She’s always punctual.”

“In a perfect world, my mother will come,
eat and leave before either Heath or Derek appear.”

“Hold onto that delusional thought and stop
your
fussing. You’re giving me indigestion.”

“No, the chicken feet you tried did that.”

“Hey, this is an international gala, you’re
supposed to try the food. I was being polite.”

“Yeah, but chicken feet?” She shuddered. “No
thanks.”

“It wasn’t the worse delicacy I’ve ever tried.”

“If you say so.” Anabelle scanned the
growing crowd. “My mother’s been acting strange lately.”

“You mean more than usual, because she’s
always been a bit strange.”

“True, but she’s really different now. I
don’t know. Since she cut her European vacation short, she’s been a crazy
matchmaker. Talking about my future, and kids. It’s strange.”

“Actually, it’s normal for mothers to play
matchmaker. The fact that your mother is just now doing it makes her
normal
for a change.”

“What’s up with that?”

“Welcome to my world. Do you see why I
avoid my mother and pray for my brothers to find trouble so she can fuss over
them instead?”

Anabelle released a frustrated breath. “If
nail biting weren’t a disgusting habit, I’d try it for kicks and giggles.”

“I wouldn’t advise it. You wouldn’t believe
the germs hiding under your nails.”

Anabelle turned towards the accented, male
voice. “Heath!”

“Well hello.” Charlie prowled around Heath,
taking in the details. “Be still my heart.”

Heath scowled. Maybe the perusal wasn’t as
subtle as he was accustomed to but he didn’t know Charlie was as subtle as a
sledgehammer. Anabelle smiled because despite their lack of chemistry, Heath really
was a beautiful man.

“A little far from home, aren’t you?”

“No. Not really. Home is a few miles away.”

Charlie giggled. “Do you really have an
accent or did you pick it up watching a bunch of BBC shows on Netflix trying to
get some girls?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh beg away darling. If you’re a really
good boy, maybe I’ll give you what you want.” Charlie winked and Anabelle
laughed at Heath’s expression. It was a cross of horror, lust and an unwilling
fascination.

Interesting.

“Behave Charlie. It’s no wonder you’re
single.” Claire Broussard said, sliding into their group from behind, and ignored
Charlie’s mock glare.

“Hello Mother. Ethan! What are you doing
here?”

Ethan grinned at her. “I believe the proper
response is, ‘Hello Ethan. Nice to see you again.’”

“Aren’t I lucky to have dear Ethan escorting
me this evening?”

“Good to see you’ve taken my advice and
joined the ranks of a cougar, mother.”

Charlie choked on her champagne and Heath
pounded her back. From his expression, he took great pleasure in assisting
Charlie.

“Sorry,” she said, wheezing. “Shrimp went
down the wrong pipe. You can stop now, you damn Brit,” she croaked and pressed a
hand to her chest. “Are you trying to kill or help me?”

“Apologies. Efficiency was my aim. A second
longer and I’d have had you in the Heimlich position.”

“Well, aren’t you a regular boy scout.”

“Rover Scout actually.”

“Whatever.”

“Children,” a stern voice interrupted. With
that, all attention was given to Claire, who shook her head. “I am not a
cougar.” Claire linked arms with Ethan and patted his arm. ”Just because I was
wrong about the two of you, doesn’t mean I can’t help dear Ethan find someone.”

“Won’t that be fabulous for
dear
Ethan.” Baffled, Anabelle shook her
head. The world as she knew it was getting more strange by the second.

“Since you shattered my heart, your mother
felt guilty.”

She turned to the stinker. “After one coffee
date? Yeah right.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” he
said with a hand over his heart while her mother nodded like she believed the
bull Ethan spouted. He winked at Anabelle, his eyes crinkled, it was clear he
enjoyed the attention. “You are the epitome of womanhood and I am…devastated.”
He hung his head.

“Easy there Romeo. I’m trying to keep the
mushroom down.”

They grinned at each other.

“Mother, this is Heath.” He took Claire’s
hand in his and to
Anabelle,
it looked as if Claire
simpered. She loved playing southern belle to foreigners. Anabelle rolled her
eyes. If her mother started batting her eyelashes, she would vomit.

Under the pretense of gentile manners, she
knew Claire had already noted Heath’s long frame, aquamarine eyes, sandy hair
and blue bow tie. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this girl. Two beautiful men
and nothing.” She shook her head. Disappointment thy name is Claire Broussard.
“And he’s British. I love Gerard Butler. I’d be a cougar for him,” she gushed.
The metamorphosis from southern belle into schoolgirl gave Anabelle whiplash.

“For the love of…Gerard Butler is Scottish,
mother.”

“British, Scottish, same thing. They’re
from an island across the pond and better yet, they’ve got those delicious
accents.”

Charlie inhaled another shrimp and Heath
took more joy in his rescue attempt.

“Stop it already. Let me die in peace.” She
shrugged him off and grabbed a water bottle from a waiter.

“I couldn’t possibly.” Heath said and assumed
the look of a choirboy.

“Would you look at Claire with her boy toy?”

Derek stood on the outer fringes of the
terrace, had arrived minutes ago but the complete envy along with the trio of large
feathered red hats of the white haired ladies caught his attention.

“He’s almost half her age,” said another
lady in purple behind her mouth in a stage whisper.

He grinned at her half shocked, half
envious tone.

“Yummy.”

“Miriam Bloodsworth, you naughty girl.”

Good for her. Although he wasn’t sure he wanted
to hear details of naughty grandma’s escapades and stepped around them to find
Anabelle.

“Well no wonder, the other day I saw
Anabelle spending time with a young man. They were both terribly flushed so you
know
they were up to no good.”

Loud cackling followed and he froze. Were
they talking about
his
Anabelle?

“Do tell.”

“It’s obvious she’s followed in her
mother’s footsteps.”

He studied the envied lady in question and
saw a resemblance between her and Anabelle in the same hair color with a touch
more gray and a similar nose. Yep. He was pretty sure they were the
subject
of current gossip. When he was with Anabelle, he had
a hard time keeping his hands to himself, so it was hard to pinpoint exactly
when they’d been caught.

“Lucky Claire.”

“I, for one, would love to have a boy toy
on my arms.”

“Ain’t that the truth?”

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

“If I had my hands on him, I’d twist him
into a sexual pretzel he won’t ever forget.”

No the poor fellow probably wouldn’t. Derek
didn’t envy the boy toy in question. A visual of this grandma twisting a young
man into a sexual pretzel made him wince but the ladies enjoyed the possibility
judging by their collective cackling.

He stepped away and fingered his collar.
The damn thing was uncomfortable he was glad he didn’t often have to dress up
like a monkey.

He spotted Anabelle in a group with Charlie,
a familiar looking guy, Anabelle’s mom and her boy toy. Somehow it felt wrong
to call him a boy toy as if he were a plaything to be discarded.

Did Anabelle think of
him
as a boy toy? He hoped not.

The guy was closer to Anabelle’s age than
that of her mother and Derek tensed when the guy gave Anabelle a familiar hug. The
urge to vault over the crowd and rip the guy from her side was strong but he
held back. The guy said something and made Anabelle laugh. Derek’s temper began
a slow boil.

Jealousy was unfamiliar territory and he
didn’t like it.

According to their agreement they didn’t
have that type of relationship. Maybe for a real relationship, she wanted
someone more like these guys, someone closer to her own age, someone who
wouldn’t be confused for a boy toy. She seemed disinclined to make their
relationship public
knowledge,
every outing had been
just the two of them or in surrounding cities where they weren’t known. So maybe
the purple hat trio had a point.

He served a purpose.

Provided a service. Hot sex.

Damn.

The thought of serving a single purpose sucked.
A smart person would distance himself, ease up on the intensity, but he was
afraid it was too late for him.

Fuck.

Instead of walking away, like the poor
suckers from the classic Odyssey should have, he walked towards the siren
who
lured him by the simple act of breathing. He couldn’t
help but think of the painful end to the sailors who hadn’t ignored the call of
the sirens in the first place.

A familiar set of wide shoulders caught her
eye and Anabelle grabbed Ethan’s arm, ignoring his pained wince. “Dear Ethan,
would you please ask my mother to dance.”

“It’s the salsa.”

“Then show her some moves.”

“But—“

“Go! For the love of Pete.” Maybe it was
the desperation he read on her face, or the nails he wanted out of his arm, but
he moved. “Ms. Claire, want to try the salsa?”

“But I don’t know how dear.”

“Allow me to show you.”

As Derek advanced on the small group, his
attention remained on a panicked looking Anabelle. He narrowed his eyes as she
shoved the boy toy towards the dance floor where instructors showed basic salsa
steps while guests followed. Anabelle’s mother was pulled along with him so he missed
meeting her mother.

“Was it something I said?”

Anabelle’s laugh sounded forced. “Of course
not. Ethan wanted to salsa with my mother.”

“I see,” he said but he didn’t. Not really.
“Hello ladies.” He gave a brief nod to Charlie but his attention was on Anabelle.
She looked like a Grecian goddess in a dress meant to torture men. The drape of
the white fabric showed the length of her legs with each step and left her
shoulders bare. Anabelle was either cold or aroused because the protrusions of
her hardened nipples were visible and commanded his attention. He was torn with
the urge to drool or to wrap her up in jacket. He wanted her lovely assets to remain
for his eyes only but that would be Neanderthal-like and odd for him.

“Hi,” the ladies chorused.

He nodded at the guy before remembering him
as “bow tie” of the botched cupid’s date he’d interrupted. He shouldn’t have
felt proud of that, but shrugged. He was a guy.

Maybe she wasn’t officially his, but she
was more with him than she was with bow tie.

“Want to dance?”

“I don’t know how to salsa.”

“That’s okay.” He gestured to the couples
on the dance floor. “I don’t think they do either.”

She placed her hand in his and he pulled
her forward. They moved together in a slow dance heard only by them, forgoing
the sassy salsa.

“Should I be worried?”

She leaned back and looked at him. “About?”

“Bow tie.”

“Bow tie?” She giggled. “Is that what you
call Heath?”

He nodded.

“No, Heath and I are friends. He’s here
representing his firm.”

“And the guy from earlier?”

“You mean my mother’s date?” Her smile was
wicked. He liked it.

“Nice…and I thought the ladies gossiping in
the back had made it up.”

“People really think he’s my mother’s
date?” She
laughed,
sounding pleased yet slightly
incredulous, and interrupted their footwork. He pulled her back into his arms.
She felt good there.

“I swear. A group of ladies were
speculating about it when I walked in.”

She chuckled, the sound seductive but then,
there wasn’t much about her he didn’t find sexy.

“He’s not really her date. He was supposed
to be mine.”

He stopped, no longer interested in dancing.
What the fuck
.

“Come on. Keep moving. It was a blind
coffee date and a complete failure in the romantic sense.”

Mollified, he forced himself to relax and
moved again. There was no need to pummel anyone tonight, which was good since
it probably wouldn’t impress her mother. He shrugged.

“So, she’s with him now?”

“No, she refuses to accept failure as a
matchmaker so she’s on the hunt for his new match.”

“As long as it’s not you, it’s all good.” His
voice held a hint of the irritation he couldn’t hide. He shook his head, not
liking the odd feeling.

He looked at the dancing couple. Sharp gray
eyes met his gaze and scanned him quickly, pausing to focus on his hand, resting
low on Anabelle’s waist. Not quite appropriate for casual acquaintances, but he
didn’t move it.

Anabelle’s mother reminded him of Mrs.
Johnson, his eighth grade teacher. Her eagle eyes caught every infraction he
committed, knew his intentions to stray before he did. She’d been the all-knowing
Master. Scores of her former students had lined the pews with him for her
funeral a few years ago because despite her strictness, or maybe because of her
vigilance, she’d been respected and loved.

The last note of the song had barely ended
before Anabelle pulled him off the dance floor.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m thirsty.”

They headed towards the bar. Her dress dipped
low in the back showing lots of skin and the silky sight hypnotized him, so he
let her lead. When she abruptly stopped, he almost mowed her over.

“Careful now.”

“Sorry. I changed my mind. I’m not thirsty.
I’m hot.”

Yes,
you are.

“Let’s get away from the crowd.” She pulled
him towards the gardens and as he was eager to get up close and personal to her
in that hot dress, he followed.

He heard someone call Anabelle’s name and
turned to see her mother dart through the guests. But oblivious to the
commotion, Anabelle walked on.

“I think your mother wants you.”

“Ignore her and we might make it.”

“What?”

“Keep walking.”

He didn’t like that command and stopped. “Is
there a reason you don’t want to introduce me to your mother?”

“Of course not.”

“I’m not your dirty little secret am I?”

“No!”

“Then I guess introductions are in order.”
He turned and watched Anabelle’s mother and the boy toy maneuver through the
crowds to them.

“Good heavens, Anabelle, what’s wrong with
your hearing? Didn’t you hear me calling your name?” The boy toy he renamed “encroacher”
looked him up and down and he returned the favor, trying to understand the type
of guy her mother wanted for her. Based on the guy’s appearance, she wanted polished
perfection.

“Sorry mother.”

“Who is this?”

“Subtle, Mother. Where’s the southern charm
from earlier?

“Hello. I’m Derek. Nice to meet you.” He
held out a hand to avoid the escalating tension between the ladies and nodded
at Encroacher.

Next to him, Anabelle released a heavy sigh
while her mother held out a delicate hand. One could assume she was a fragile
lady except for the steel in her gaze. The steel warned him that maybe he should
have listened to Anabelle but it was too late.

“Hello Derek.”

Anabelle cringed
,
she couldn’t help it
. Claire had the amazing ability to make
one feel microscopically small. Derek stood tall and strong, not knowing Claire
would do her best to break him. Anabelle shook her head. He should have listened
to her and run while he’d had a chance.

There was no doubt the next few minutes
wouldn’t be pretty.

“You are Anabelle’s new friend?”

“Oh, Mother.” A mortified groan escaped her
and Ethan, the jerk, stood there and grinned. He seemed to find the scene
amusing.

“Well, what do they call it these days?
Shall I call him your friend with benefits? That’s what the article from the
plane called it.”

“Oh Lord.”

Next to Claire, Ethan crossed his arms over
his chest and nodded, his expression serious. With his black rimmed glasses, he
looked like a bobble headed Clark Kent gone Italian mafia as he stood in bodyguard
position, ready to do harm to anyone not showing the proper respect to Ms.
Claire.

“Or is he your fuck buddy?”

A few heads whipped around. Even Ethan
winced.

“For the love of—“

“Anabelle and I are in a relationship, Mrs.
Broussard,” Derek said, his voice strong and assured.

“Really?” her mother asked, echoing Anabelle’s
own confusion.

“And what are your intentions towards my
daughter?”

“Stop!” She was beyond mortified, had officially
entered the ‘black hole, swallow me now’ zone.

“Really, Anabelle, there’s no need to get
testy.”

“No need, mother? Really?” She hated the
screeching sound her voice made but have mercy.

“Simmer down,” Ethan murmured next to her
ear and she glared. Why had she wanted a brother?

“I want to ascertain his commitment level,
dear. Both Ethan and Heath have expressed their desire for marriage and frankly
you’re not getting any younger.” Claire ignored her daughter’s gasp and turned
to Derek. “I don’t mean any offense. You seem like a nice young man, I stress
the word
young
, but you may possibly
be too young for my daughter.” She turned back to Anabelle. “He has time to fool
around while you don’t.”

“Ouch. You bleeding, sweetheart?”

Anabelle ignored Ethan and the growl Derek
gave at the endearment and focused on her mother. “Thanks, mother. I’m glad I
don’t have enemies, having you around is hard enough.”

“I’m simply looking out for you.”

“Well, don’t.”

Ethan stepped between them and rubbed
Anabelle’s shoulder in apology.

“Come on Ms. Claire, I saw several fine
looking ladies you can introduce to me if you can.” Ethan pulled her mother
away before he turned back and sent her a reassuring wink.

It didn’t matter because she was going to
kill her mother.