Beau laughed and brushed her hair behind her shoulder, as if he’d performed the small, intimate gesture a thousand times before. She shivered as his fingertips lingered on the curve of her ear. “Guess I tipped my hand when I told you to wear something pretty?”
She turned to him, grateful for the rescue line. “I hoped you’d ask. I had a feeling, but I didn’t take it as a foregone conclusion.”
A teasing smile didn’t quite overshadow the sympathy lurking in his eyes. Yes, they’d touched on her situation before, but now she was one of two people sitting in the car who realized she’dgone to dinner last night expecting to become someone’s one and only, and instead came home alone. She looked away and blinked rapidly. A lump formed in her throat.
“What did you wear, honey?” her mom asked.
Beau beat her to the response while she battled the lump.
“She wore a purple dress that turned her eyes violet and turned me into the most envied man in the restaurant.”
Okay, two things just became immediately apparent. He really did have amazing powers of observation, and she should let him do most of the talking, since he could come up with a line like that from a two-second glimpse of her yesterday evening when she’d passed him in the hall on her way to meet Mitch.
“Which restaurant?” This time Beau’s mom posed the question.
Savannah held her tongue, waiting for him to respond, but he didn’t automatically toss out a place. Maybe he wanted her to go ahead and name the actual restaurant? The silence stretched.
“Le Bistro,” she blurted, at the same time Beau said, “Barcelona.”
“Le Bistro Barcelona,” she stammered. “It’s new…French-Spanish fusion.”
Beau’s mother laughed and turned in her seat to beam at them. “Olé and ooh la la! Sounds very sophisticated. I remember a time when this one wouldn’t eat anything he couldn’t pronounce.”
“I still don’t, but I can pronounce more stuff now.”
“Hmm.” Mrs. Montgomery faced front again, her smile undimmed. “I’d say someone broadened your horizons. Keep at him, Savannah. He’s a diamond in the rough.”
“Speaking of diamonds,” her mom broke in, “I can’t wait to see the ring!”
Dang. Her either. Nothing in her jewelry box could pass for an engagement ring. She stared at her naked left hand, and then at Beau. He ran his thumb over her ring finger and gave heran almost imperceptible headshake. Message received. He had nothing.
Stick to the truth as much as possible. Savannah cleared her throat and leaped into the void. “Well, actually, the thing about the ring is…I guess I talk about Sinclair’s talents a lot, because Beau knew when it came to something as important as the rings we’d use to symbolize our love, I’d want her to design them. We planned to ask her today after we made our big announcement.”
Their moms sighed in unison, but she battled a stab of regret. Her sister designed and created gorgeous, distinctive, and increasingly coveted jewelry, and Savannah had secretly dreamed of someday asking Sinclair to design her rings, but now she’d wasted the once-in-a-lifetime special gesture on this sham engagement. When she finally found the right man to spend the rest of her life with, how could she go to her sister and ask her to design the “perfect rings” for her again? On the other hand, if Mitch had gotten down on his cheating knee last night and proposed, he probably would have presented her with a standard platinum-and-diamond solitaire of whatever color, cut, clarity, and carat befitted the spouse of a junior partner at Cromwell & Cox. He would have wanted the same when it came to the wedding rings, because why spend money on an outward show of sentiment if it didn’t also convey a definitive message about his taste, status, and money?
She’d dodged a Tiffany & Co. bullet when she got right down to it, and from here on out she should take a page from Beau’s playbook—specifically the “not worry about the future” page. Hell, maybe there was no right man for her? She ought to enjoy this fake engagement to the utmost, because it could be the closest she came to fulfilling the silly wedding fantasies she carted around in her mental hope chest.
Her mom steered the Navigator into a guest spot near the entrance to the complex and the dads pulled into the open slotbeside them. “Any thoughts on a dress yet? I know you don’t consider yourself a traditional girl, but you look nice in white.”
“I don’t know, Mom.” Strapless white mermaid dress. Hair swept up, no veil, and the tallest heels she could find.
Beau held the door for her, helped her out of the car, and kept her hand clasped in his. Goodness, she’d never had such an attentive fiancé.
“If you’re planning a spring wedding, you’ve got plenty of time to shop,” Mrs. Montgomery pointed out as they made their way upstairs.
“But if you want to move more quickly…”
“Jesus, Mom—”
“What? Oops. That came out wrong. I’m not saying youneedto move more quickly. Um…do you?”
“Should I get my shotgun?” her father joked, sending her a wink.
“Only if you want me to use it on Mom.”
They stopped in front of her door. Beau raised their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her wrist. “We haven’t talked about timing yet, but there’s no particular rush.”
The first touch of his lips to her skin since they were babies sent a current of heat straight up her arm. Yes, he could muster up a convincing public display of affection. Too convincing. A thousand new ideas about her fantasy wedding ran through her mind…all of them involving the wedding night and those lips of his roving over her entire body.