Seven Day Fiance: A Love and Games Novel (Entangled Bliss) Page 5

  And that made Cane nervous.

  The entire Robicheaux/Landry family was infected with wedding fever. Bridal magazines were in the bathroom, diagrams of seating arrangements littered the dining table, and discussions about the growing RSVP list for Colby and Jason’s wedding played on repeat—and now Cane was contributing to the insanity. The fact that this was all an absurd hoax didn’t seem to faze either of his sisters. They’d begun planning the pretend event anyway.

  Which was why he’d barricaded himself in his room, packing for the stupid trip. Normally, Cane didn’t give two shits about what he wore. Or what people thought of it. As long as they weren’t getting close, he was fine with whatever impression they got of him. But Angelle had his head all twisted. Was he supposed to be himself or dress to impress her folks? How far did this scam go?

  Angelle had said they knew everything about him, that he managed Robicheaux’s, tended bar on the weekend, rode a motorcycle, and played in a band. Other than leaving out his tats and highly coveted King of Abs title, she pretty much summed up his stats.

  The ones he let the world know, that is.

  Very few people knew about his OCD-like quirks, love for calculus and physics, addiction to Sudoku, or fascination with the Discovery channel. Or how at the age of twenty-one, the plans for his future altered. And the possibility of him getting married for real vanished.

  It was rare someone got close enough to learn any of those things. Or for Cane to want anyone close enough so he or she could. As always, Angelle defied his normal logic. He already felt more physically drawn to her than any anyone he’d ever met, and he was attracted to the woman she let his friends and family know so well. From her comments earlier and general wariness around him, it was obvious she’d made assumptions based on what he let the world see. It was probably better for both of them if he let her keep them.

  “Tell Angelle my signature colors are green and blue,” Emma declared, snapping Cane’s attention back to the present. He lifted his head to see her listing the rainbow on her fingers. “But I guess I can work with yellow or purple, too. Oh, it could be like an LSU wedding!” She jumped up and clapped her hands happily, then grew serious just as quickly. “But no taffeta bows on the butt, please. That mess doesn’t work on anyone.”

  She rolled her eyes and then with a mischievous giggle, spun on her heel and skipped away.

  Cane blinked. “Taffeta?” What in the hell was that, some kind of snack? Raising his voice he asked, “Colors?”

  “Duh,” answered her amused, disembodied voice from the hall. “For the bridesmaid dresses.” Her tinkling laugh clearly said she was enjoying his distress. And that he could add one more wedding planner to the mix.

  Great. Just what he needed—his highly impressionable, preteen niece playing Cupid.

  Emma’s matchmaking with Jason and Colby was already family legend. Between her and Sherry, his closed-off best friend and stubborn-as-hell sister hadn’t stood a chance. But Angelle wasn’t Colby. And Cane sure as hell wasn’t Jason. The two of them weren’t headed for a happily ever after. They were simply two highly attracted people, agreeing to pretend for the hometown busybodies, and then “breaking up” the moment they returned to town.

  With Angelle officially cleansed from his system.

  Cane’s gaze drifted to the bed, imagining red hair splayed across his pillow. Getting the uptight woman to give in to their attraction wasn’t going to be easy. But there was no doubt in his mind that Angelle would be worth the effort.

  Grinning, he zipped up his bag.

  …

  Angelle was gonna puke. Her hands were so clammy her perfume bottle slipped from her grasp, and a swarm of horseflies was dancing the jitterbug in her tummy. Ever since she’d left Robicheaux’s she’d been one big bundle of anxiety, and her completely addicted to love, highly enthusiastic roomie wasn’t helping with that one bit.

  “You realize at this moment we’re practically sisters,” Sherry said, riffling through Angie’s dresser. What the woman was looking for was anyone’s guess, but Angelle was certain it would end up being embarrassing. “Fake engagement or not, the chemistry between you and my big brother is explosive. You know y’all are gonna have to act all lovey-dovey to sell this thing, and I predict some serious fireworks occurring.” She bumped the drawer closed with her hip and frowned. “I’m just pissed I won’t be there to see it.”

  Ah, crap. Sherry was right. Pulling this off would require a lot of acting, and Angelle had the theatrical skills of a turnip. She and Cane had chemistry, all right—crazy chemistry—so the feigning starry-eyed passion in public didn’t worry her. It was pretending she wasn’t crazy about the sinfully sexy man when they were in private that would be the problem.

  An image of Cane wrapping her up in his big, strong arms and plundering her mouth flashed in her mind, and Angie’s tummy flipped again.

  “And I predict it’ll be a freaking miracle if anyone buys the charade,” she said, sinking onto her bed in a defeated plop. “Sherry, what have I gotten myself into? Seriously, Cane and me as a couple? It’s laughable. The two of us couldn’t be more opposite.”

  “Exactly,” Sherry declared with a smirk. “And opposites make for some yummy sparks.” She wiggled her eyebrows and did a shoulder shimmy, then said, “Now you hang tight for a sec; there’s something I want you to borrow for the trip.”

  As Sherry scooted out the door, Angelle pulled her knees up to her chest. Guilt and hopelessness made her head spin and with a sigh, she laid her cheek against soft, well-worn denim.

  What she was asking of Cane was huge—but what she was asking of herself was even bigger. Her gaze flicked to her wrist, the word Chance taunting her. So far, her new life mission had a 30 percent success rate. In other words, she wasn’t doing so hot. Cane represented the exact kind of guy she should be going after. Passion personified. Adventurous. A man totally different from her ex.

  And yet, so similar to the man her sister had been dating when she died.

  Angelle’s wrist throbbed as pain and regret sliced through her. She wanted to be like Amber, to take risks and live life to the fullest. But was she following too closely in her sister’s footsteps? Air hissed between her teeth as she imagined her daddy’s reaction to Cane’s ink. She’d left that detail out for a reason, wanting to delay the fallout.

  Her forehead thunked against her knees. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she imagined. Cane was a business owner, after all. He was strong and handsome and, despite his womanizing ways, obviously a good man. He worked hard and his sisters doted on him, as did Emma.

  Which meant her heart was in serious jeopardy. She frowned.

  Maybe she should call things off now, before it was too late.

  But then her thoughts turned to her mom and she sighed. Angelle had left her alone to deal with the town reaction to from her breakup, and it hadn’t been pretty. Mama was so eager to show off her engaged daughter, excited she could finally put a positive spin on the story of her runaway bride–like daughter. Knowing her, she’d invited half the town to welcome them home, and Angie only needed one guess as to who’d be sitting front and center.

  Groaning, Angelle closed her eyes. Brady would be there, all right, if for no other reason than to show he’d moved on. Since their very public breakup, they hadn’t spoken. Not directly, at least. Mama made sure to fill Angie in on all things Brady during their daily conversations, and Angelle was sure her mom did the same with him. But now that she was home, there would be no avoiding him. Their families were old friends, and the town was small. And that, more than any other reason, was why she needed Cane by her side. Yeah, the man inspired forbidden fantasies that would make even wanton women like Sherry blush, but he was strong. When the wolves descended, and they definitely would, she could lean on him to get her through it. Maybe even tap into that well of cool, calm confidence he naturally exuded and take a little for herself.

  She’d just have to be extra vigilant that in doing so, she di
dn’t let herself believe the lie.

  Strictly professional.

  “All right, chica, I got ya a few options.”

  Angelle looked up to see Sherry reenter her bedroom, arms laden with a multitude of lace, silk, leather… Her eyes widened in shock.

  “Sorry to tell you this, sweets, but your negligee selection is pitiful,” Sherry declared with a shake of her head. “And that mess simply won’t be tolerated as long as you share my apartment and have me as a friend. You’re way too sexy to hide under cotton and flannel. When you get back we’re totes hitting up Victoria’s Secret, but for now, these will do.”

  An explosion of colorful unmentionables hit her bed, and blood rushed to Angelle’s cheeks. She and Sherry were so not on the same page. Picking one up, she noticed two significantly placed cutouts on the bodice and dropped the garment as if it would bite her. “Ah, wow. Thanks for the offer, Sher. It’s very…generous of you. But, um, this stuff really isn’t me.”

  “That’s kind of the point.” Smiling, she sat down and shook Angie’s knee. “Listen, I’m not trying to pimp out my brother. But the two of you are going away together for a week. I’d be failing in my job as your friend and sex-obsessed cheerleader if I didn’t make sure you were prepared. Besides, can you honestly look me in the eyes and say you’re not attracted to him?”

  Angelle held her gaze for a nanosecond and then looked away, unable to lie. See, zero acting skills. Sherry plucked up another option from the pile, a green one with lace, and draped it over her knees. “This one looks amazing with your coloring.”

  Angelle banged her head twice on the soft fabric. Nine months living here, five of them spent as an honorary Robicheaux, and all her secrets were tumbling out in one twenty-four-hour period.

  “Sherry, I honestly don’t think I’ll be needing any of this stuff.” She traced the scalloped lace trim with her fingertips, too self-conscious to look up as she admitted, “And the reason I know I won’t be needing any of it—” She swallowed and buried her face in the silky fabric. “Is because I’m a virgin.”

  Silence.

  Complete and utter silence.

  I’ve actually shocked Sherry mute.

  Up to this point, Angie hadn’t thought that was possible.

  When the waiting became unbearable, she lifted her head and found Sherry studying her in confusion. Forehead wrinkled, she said, “But you had a boyfriend.” She tilted her head in wonder and gazed as if Angelle were the eighth wonder of the world…or something equally mind-blowing. “He proposed.”

  “Girls with boyfriends and even almost fiancés can be virgins, you know,” Angie muttered, trying super hard not to feel offended or annoyed. Living with Sherry, conversations sprang up all the time where she could’ve volunteered this information and didn’t, so this had to come as a shock. But the expression on her friend’s face was exactly why she hadn’t said anything before. “Look, at first I waited because I wanted to be in love. Then, even when I believed I was, it still never felt right. Brady assumed I wanted to be married first, but I don’t think that was it.”

  Sherry nodded, her lips pursed slightly as if in thought. “I respect that. So, what, do you think you were just never really in love with your ex?”

  Angelle shrugged. “I know I loved him as a person. I still do. He’s a good guy and was a great friend to me. But honestly? No, I don’t think I was in love with him. I think we became more like two friends who hung out and occasionally made out than a couple destined for an epic romance. There was no excitement, no passion. And I think that’s what was missing. If I had those things, it wouldn’t matter if I were married or not. I’m not sure it would even matter if I were in love. If it feels right, then I’ll gladly join the ranks of the hymenally relieved, but until then, I refuse to settle for anything less than what I deserve, either.”

  A smile played across Sherry’s mouth. “Damn, girl. I think I just fell in love with you a little bit.”

  A laugh exploded from Angie’s throat. It wasn’t easy being a secret virgin living with a self-proclaimed nympho, and admitting it aloud was like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Angelle knew her V-card was nothing to be ashamed of, but it felt good to be accepted. And now that her friend knew the truth, she’d understand why her gift, while being extremely thoughtful, was completely unnecessary.

  Winking, Sherry took the green nightie from Angelle’s lap…and placed it in the opened suitcase. When Angie started to protest, she held up her hand. “I heard you, okay? I heard you, I respect you, and if I swung that way, I’d be going after you myself after that speech. But you and my brother? Major excitement. Off-the-charts passion. And blocking out the fact it is my brother in the other half of this equation, it pays to be prepared. If this is gonna be your first time, I want my girl looking good. Especially since I pay attention and know it’s your birthday this weekend,” she added with a grin. “Don’t you want to give yourself a little treat?”

  It was her birthday this week—a detail Angelle hadn’t mentioned while propositioning Cane. Obviously, she had to tell him eventually. The last thing they needed was to get down to Bon Terre, have everyone buy their act, only to have it blow up when her own fiancé didn’t know something as basic as her birthdate. But in a way, Angelle wished everyone would forget it. Being the center of attention had been hard for her even when she was young. She used to cry during the Happy Birthday song, until Amber suggested she picture everyone as SpongeBob. Then after she died, it became sad and uncomfortable.

  Unaware of Angelle’s inner turmoil, Sherry grabbed a string of silver packets from under the pile of garments and dropped those in her suitcase, too. She made a V with her fingers, pointed at her eyes, then Angelle’s, and then pointed back to the case. “Again, prepared.”

  Angie shook her head with a smile. There was no arguing with Sherry, and it wasn’t as if sexy lingerie and condoms would make any difference. A week alone with Cane wasn’t magically going to make it easier to be around him or make her see him in a new light. He was still a player, still dangerous. Still temptation incarnate. Speaking of which… “Just, please don’t tell your brother about this, okay?”

  Sherry’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? I’m lobbying for us to become sisters here. No offense, but the last thing I want to do is advertise you’re uncharted territory. Cane has a hero complex. If he knew you were a virgin, he’d go all chivalrous. No, I’ll let you drop that little bombshell yourself in the heat of passion.”

  The heat of passion. A shiver rolled down Angelle’s spine as her overactive imagination fired up an image to match that description. Cane lowering himself over her, those brown eyes darkening to almost black. His mouth doing delicious, unspeakable things to her body. Her writhing under him.

  Holy hot flash! Angie released a breath, fanning the air up in the hopes of cooling herself down. Sherry laughed and stuffed another outfit into her suitcase, this one black leather.

  Cane Robicheaux was dangerous. If town gossip were to be believed, he had more experience than Hugh Hefner and would no doubt rock her innocent world. But he did bring the passion and excitement. Her gaze shifted to the remaining scrap of silk on the bed. Maybe giving in to their attraction—just a little…a few hot kisses, perhaps a bit of exploration—could be a good thing. She could check “experience real passion” off her to-do list and help the two of them appear more smitten for her hometown in the process. After all, engaged couples do make out. When her brother Troy got engaged, he and Eva could barely keep their hands off each other. Angelle would be a couillon—a complete idiot—if she didn’t go into this week remembering that. Not to mention it’d be a giant red flag for her folks.

  So, if Angie did decide to throw caution to the wind and take a chance—again, just a tiny, itty-bitty chance—it would be for the good of the ruse. Taking one for the team. For strictly professional purposes.

  Angelle bit the corner of her lip and met Sherry’s knowing gaze. “Give me the purple
one, too.” Just in case.

  Chapter Five

  Just over two hours. That’s how long the trip from Magnolia Springs to Bon Terre was. Cane hated being still for two minutes, and sitting inside a truck for that long was practically torture. That’s why he had bought his bike. Riding demanded his total attention, complete immersion. With the wind hitting his face, the energy of the engine ripping through his body, and his synapses firing to stay alert, Cane felt alive. Free. Unconstrained.

  But damn if driving with Angelle tucked beside him, the sweet scent of sunflowers filling the cab, didn’t make him feel alive, too. And turned on. This plan of his better work. So far, close proximity only served to heighten his desire, and it was beginning to grate on his nerves. Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he asked, “Anything I should know before we get there?”

  Angelle startled. Cane realized it’d been quiet, with not even the radio playing, for going on ten minutes. Apparently, they’d both been lost in their own thoughts. And from the way she’d jumped at the sound of his voice, he’d like to know what hers involved.

  With a nervous laugh, Angelle glanced over, dropped her gaze to his mouth, and then quickly looked away. Interesting. “Well, yeah.” Then she frowned. “A whole lot of stuff, actually. If you’re my fiancé, you should probably know everything there is to know about me. And I should know about you, too.”

  The smooth skin between her eyes furrowed as she nibbled on her bottom lip—an expression Cane had seen far too often over the last five months. It meant she was worried, nervous, maybe even scared, and for once, he could understand why.

  “Don’t worry about it, angel. We’ll figure it out.” He sent her a confident smile, hoping he was right. Spending the holiday with this charade blowing up in his face was something he’d really rather avoid. “We have two-plus hours to get a crash course in each other. Plenty of time to hit the highlights.”

  Angelle nodded distractedly, clearly unconvinced, and began tapping a rhythm on her lap. Cane knew a thing or two about nervous habits, so he placed his hand over hers to calm her down—and caught her shiver from the corner of his eye. The tapping stopped, and he bit back a smile.