No Perfect Princess by Angel Payne, Victoria Blue Page A

year’s hat trends and last year’s NFL stats in the same conversation, just because she could. Then how I yearned to lend her my jacket because she’d forgotten— again —to bring her own. How I longed to see her huddled in that same jacket as I kissed her goodnight beneath a streetlight, mist from the bay turning her eyelashes into stars…wishing I could give her every jacket I owned, for the rest of my life…
    Yeah.
    Only all the shit like that .
    Because I’d mentally run the scenario of that little reveal, too. Not such a pretty picture. Telling Margaux Asher that you dreamed of playing house with her…the carnage from there wasn’t tough to envision. Expecting different was stupidity. The woman had been raised by the love child of Alexis Carrington and Betty Draper, turning the concepts of home, family, and traditions into a joke, if not a horror show, for her. Earlier, when I’d forced myself to make nicey-nice with Andrea and assure her I’d really be returning to the office Monday, I’d wondered what Colin Montgomery got out of his marriage to the woman. For all I could see, the man was nothing more than her purse holder and her drink fetcher. Maybe their roles got reversed when they were behind closed doors…
    Wasn’t going there for all the sand in the Sahara.
    Talk about an instant yank back to reality—though Margaux’s glower spoke enough about my tardiness to the party, and the “sulk” she clearly thought I was indulging.
    Ohhh princess, if you only knew what was really going on .
    But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
    My silence had put a few pounds on the elephant—and that was just fine by me. Maybe it was time to haul his ass out of here, salvaging whatever relationship she and I could have now.
    I had hope, a lot of it. We’d started with less than this in the beginning. We could be good friends, I believed it—once I got my shit together and controlled my rampaging dick.
    But tonight wasn’t the time to start. She was right. I’d stayed away too long. And she looked so damn good. Smelled so perfect and sweet. Even glared at me with such perfect fire. If we kept talking…I’d nuke the elephant. My truth would be out. And our relationship would be toast.
    Ice Road Truckers was the way better choice.
    How the hell I’d muttered that aloud, I had no idea. But I sure as hell had.
    “Ice road what ?” Margaux charged. “Pearson, are you even here right now?”
    Cloud, meet your silver lining . She made my next move damn easy. All I had to do was mutter something sounding stranger than that , then shove on out of here and call her tomorrow, blaming my bullshit on a bad shrimp reaction or something equally lame. My ticket out of the party was also my way to push the restart button on things with her. So simple, it was beautiful—
    And went unused.
    Because I was an idiot.
    An idiot who was nuts about her. Especially now, folding her arms as she shot one foot out from under that dress, seductress gone to sassy, pissy, and hurt—ensuring my senses were blasted equally by arousal and guilt.
    The former told me to really get the fuck out of here now. But the latter tied me to her, unwilling to let things be like this, even for one night. It forced me forward to once more flatten the space between us to nothing, one hand snaring her waist, the other slipping up to her neck. Her little gasp was surely just an involuntary burst of surprise, but it was so goddamn sexy, I pretended it was more—at least for one moment.
    One moment that made the world go away.
    One moment where everything was just me…and her…and the way we’d been in front of the lions at the zoo.
    I tightened my fingers along her scalp. Tugged her head back, as if preparing to inspect her. Let our breaths tangle, our heartbeats blend…our lusts crash.
    It’s not too late to cash in the carnality card, man. To drag her off to one of Kil and Claire’s twelve bedrooms, bend her over the bed, and show her exactly what