Dragged to the Wedding(28)
“Thanks, Dad,” James said, his father unlikely to have heard as he skulked down the hall toward his old bedroom, the hum of the sewing machine penetrating the door. “How is it coming?” James asked as he went inside.
The machine stopped and Daniel lifted his gaze from his work, his lower lip between his teeth, eyes filled with concentration. James closed the door and hurried over to him, cupping Daniella’s made-up cheeks in his hands, leaning over the machine and kissing him. Yeah, it was probably the wrong damned thing to do, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to know what was real and what wasn’t. The tingle that raced through him all the way to his toes and the way Daniel returned the kiss were real.
Damn it all, it would have been so much easier if the kiss had been a complete dud and they really were just pretending. But it was real, and now he had to figure out the rest of it. James wanted Daniel with everything he had, and his whole body shook with excitement. But like it or not, he had to tamp down his feelings in order to keep them from his mother or this entire situation was going to get a hell of a lot worse.
“You’re really bad, James,” Daniel said softly as he pulled back.
“But I’m really good when I’m bad.” He wagged his eyebrows, and Daniel grinned widely, pink lipstick shining.
“I don’t get it. Do you Missoula boys all take a class in cheesy lines? You and Weston could sure as hell use some lessons in smooth...” Daniel pointed in queenly derision with a long-nailed hand. “Maybe I should offer a class in how to not sound like a dork.”
“I see. I thought I was being cute.” He drew nearer.
Daniel stood, leaving the wedding dress draped over the sewing table. “If you want to be remembered, try a sincere compliment.”
James nodded. “You mean, like your eyes are the same color blue as I imagine the ocean is from a cruise ship at midnight—dark and mysterious with just enough turmoil to be interesting?” He came even closer. “How was that? Or I could say that your lips always remind me of the sweetest chocolate, and I can never get enough chocolate, especially the dark smooth kind that I want to lick until it’s gone.” His breath came deeper, and James’s chest ached. “I could compliment your shoes or the fact that you always look perfect, but that’s what you’re wearing. It isn’t you. Your eyes are the same no matter how you dress, and so are your lips.” James smiled. “Maybe I could say that I want to follow that strip of skin down your throat until that little crescent disappears behind your first shirt button.” He backed away. “Is that closer to what you had in mind?”
Daniel swallowed hard, throat working, drawing James’s attention to the scarf around a long, slender neck. He knew it hid one of the few visible indications that he was a man, but he didn’t care, tugging the knot open, running his finger down warm, smooth skin until it slid over the silk blouse.
“I think you got it down.” Their gazes met, electricity filling the room.
The moment shattered at a knock on the door and Daniel tugged the scarf out of James’s hand, tying it in place once again. “Are the two of you busy?” Holly asked and then barged right into the room. “Mom said you were working on the awful dress.” She paused in the doorway. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Just a private conversation.” James sat on the side of the bed. “Are you only being nosy? Because I can arrange for certain people to be really nosy on your wedding night.” James grinned at Daniel. “We could arrange a shivaree. It wouldn’t be hard to find out where they’re staying.”
Daniel clapped his hands together in delight. “I could sing, and we could get all the groomsmen to bring pots and serenade the happy couple. I always wanted to do that. Doris Day has the most lovely songs.”
Just like that, James lost it. Lala Traviata’s rendition of “Que Sera, Sera” flashed in his mind and he was done.
“You do that and so help me god, I will...” Holly’s expression was pure horror.
James put his hands on his hips. “What?” He was having fun with this. Holly’s cheeks had turned bright red and her head seemed seconds from exploding.
“Come over here,” Daniel said, changing the subject. “I’m making some progress, but I want to check a few things before I put the final seams in. James can step out so we can work, and you can tell me all kinds of stories about the things he used to do as a kid.”
Daniel was completely wicked. Before James could protest, he found himself on the other side of the locked door with Holly giggling up a storm.
“What are you up to?” his mother asked, carrying a basket of laundry down the hall.
“They’re checking the dress, and Holly is apparently telling Daniella stories about me as a kid.” He took the basket from her and carried it to the master bedroom, setting it on his parents’ tightly made bed. The army had nothing on his mother when she made the beds, that was for sure.
“Heaven help us,” his mother muttered and then sighed. “Your sister doesn’t know the meaning of the word discretion. Remember the time she told the entire school that you once sat on a plate of baked beans? It didn’t matter that it was when you were three years old.” She snatched a towel out of the basket and started folding it. “I like Daniella. I think she’s interesting, and she certainly has no qualms about sharing. I bet she’s fun, and she’s really cute.” Mom placed the folded towel on the bed and got another. “If you let your sister mess this up for you...”