He nodded. “I’ve heard that.”
Harper frowned, lowered her arms and looked down to where his hands were tensely curled at his sides. She took them in her own and moved each one to rest at the curve of her hips. “Relax, Sebastian. I’m not going to bite. We’ve got to be a lot more comfortable touching each other if we’re going to convince anyone we’re really together.”
He splayed his fingers across her denim-clad hips and pressed the tips into the ample flesh there. With her so close, he wanted to lean down and kiss her. Her full, pouting lips and wide, innocent eyes seemed to plead for it. Indulging seemed like the natural thing to do. She felt good against him. Perhaps too good for the middle of Neiman Marcus. There was definitely not going to be a problem faking attraction with Harper. The problem would be pretending that the attraction wasn’t real when no one was watching.
“I’ll go,” he blurted out, almost surprising himself.
Harper stiffened in his arms, looking up at him with a smile that was hesitant to believe him. “Are you serious?”
Sebastian nodded. “Yes, I’m serious. I’ll go to Ireland with you as your fake boyfriend.”
With a squeal of excitement, Harper hugged him tight. Before he could prepare himself, she pressed her mouth to his. He was certain it was supposed to be a quick, thank-you peck, but once their lips touched, there was no pulling away.
Sebastian wasn’t imagining the palpable sexual energy between them. The way Harper curved against his body and opened her mouth to him was proof of that. He wanted to take it further, to see how powerful their connection really was, but this was neither the time nor the place, so he pulled away while he still could.
Harper lingered close, a rosy flush highlighting her cheeks. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Would you care to walk me to my apartment? I don’t live far.”
“I can’t.” He wanted to—quite badly—but he got the feeling it was an invitation better declined at the moment if they were going to spend the next week together. Things could get weird before they even left.
Harper pulled away just enough to let a chill of air rush in where the heat of her body had been. “Why not?”
He picked up the wallet he’d set down on a display when he’d spoken with Quentin. “I still have to buy this.”
A light of amusement lit her eyes. “You’re so literal. I can wait while you check out.”
It would be so easy to say yes. He took a deep breath and thought up another valid reason. “I also have some things to take care of if I’m going with you on Monday.”
Harper pouted for a moment before she nodded and covered her disappointment with a smile. “Okay. Well, I’m going out with my girlfriends tomorrow, but how about we get together on Sunday night? We can get to know each other a little better before we get on the plane.”
“At your apartment?”
“A bar is probably a better idea. Being you’re a stranger and all, right?”
He breathed a sigh of relief. He could avoid temptation in a bar. Once they got to Ireland, he wasn’t so sure. “That sounds good.”
“Give me your phone.”
Sebastian handed over his cell phone and Harper put her information into his contacts.
“Text me so I have your information, too. We’ll get together Sunday.”
With a smile and a wave, Harper handed over his phone and disappeared from the store. Sebastian watched her walk away and, with every step she took, was more and more convinced that he was making a big mistake.
* * *
“I know that we’re leaving Monday and I should probably be packing or getting ready, but I really needed one last girls’ night before we go.” Violet eased back into the sofa cushions with a large glass of wine in her hand. “Why didn’t any of you tell me how stressful weddings could be?”
“Well, Oliver and I eloped, so it wasn’t stressful at all,” Lucy said. “Besides, in the end it’s just a party. Now, nine-month-old twins...that’s stressful.”
Harper chuckled at her new sister-in-law’s observation. The twins—Alice and Christian—were little darlings, but the minute they started walking, she got the feeling they would be tiny tornadoes of destruction. Especially Alice. She was a little spitfire, like her namesake, their great-great-aunt Alice.
“No one said you had to fly all your friends and family halfway around the world to get married,” Harper pointed out, taking a sip of her wine. “You could’ve had a ridiculously expensive and over-the-top affair here in Manhattan like Emma did.”
Emma came into the room with a frown pulling down the corners of her flawlessly painted rose lips. “My wedding was not over the top. It was small and tasteful.”
Harper arched an eyebrow and laughed. “You may have only had thirty people there, but I’d hardly classify it as small and tasteful.”
“I had a beautiful reception.”