Seven Day Fiance: A Love and Games Novel (Entangled Bliss) (6 page)

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.

Now unable to help himself, knowing his touch affected her, Cane encircled the slender bones of her wrist with his thumb and finger. Angelle was tough, but she was also much more delicate than any woman he’d ever known. So feminine and vulnerable. The contradictory mix fascinated him. It brought out every protective instinct he had, and attracted him like nothing else before.

On the underside of her wrist, the site of her tattoo, he felt the raised skin of a scar. Curious if the injury linked to the mysterious one-word brand, he grazed the pad of his thumb over the mark. Her pink lips parted. When he did it again, her head lolled, and her breath caught.

The stuttered sound, the rise and fall of her chest, the way her hand flexed and curled as his thumb drew slow circles…it only made him want her more. He hadn’t thought that was possible. And when her head shifted and she peered up at him with unmistakable, unhidden desire, well, it was all over.

Cane gunned the accelerator. Flipping on the turn signal, he switched lanes, headed for the rest stop an exit ahead. Angelle’s voice was whisper soft when she asked, “Where are we going?”

“We need to get something out of the way right now.”

In the quiet of the cab, he heard her swallow. There were no other words until he threw the truck into park a half mile up the road. As soon as he did, Cane chucked his seat belt, made quick work of hers, and stared into her unguarded eyes.

Angelle was one giant tell. If she ever tried playing poker, she’d lose her ass. Her family bought the fiancé lie up to this point because she hid behind a cell phone and several hundred miles, but the two of them wouldn’t have that luxury this week. People would be watching them like hawks, curious about their relationship, looking for sparks. And luckily, they had
that
in spades.

Brushing a lock of auburn hair away from Angelle’s face, Cane said, “This charade isn’t going to be easy. I’ll learn everything you want me to know, everything we have time for during the drive. But darlin’, there’s one thing we don’t need to work on. And that’s this.”

He lowered his forehead to hers, feeling the soft pant of her quickened breath hit his opened lips. He skimmed his nose across hers and closed his eyes as he breathed deeply. Sunflowers. A hint of vanilla. Cherry-scented lip gloss. And Angelle.
His
Angelle, at least for the next week.

Angling his mouth so their lips were barely touching, he said, “Desire, Angie. Attraction. We have it. We don’t have to fake that. And since we’re alone, and that’s
my
ring on your finger, it seems only fair I get to steal a kiss.”

Anxiety mixed with excitement entered the emotional gumbo of her gaze, and her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. It brushed over the seam of his mouth, and he growled low in his throat. “Our first kiss of
many
.”

Then, closing his eyes, pretending he didn’t see the sudden flash of affection in hers, he dropped his mouth and kissed her.

He kissed the shit out of her.

That desire he’d said they had, well, it damn near set off an explosion in his truck. Fire, heat, panting breath. Thoughts that had no place in a cramped cab alongside a busy highway, at least not in the light of day. But hell if he wasn’t wishing he’d stopped at a hotel instead.

Angelle was soft—soft hair, soft lips, soft sighs of pleasure. And she tasted sweet. So damn sweet. This was his bit of heaven, right here, and while Cane had no right to keep her long, now that Angelle was in his arms, he knew one night would never be enough. To get this woman out of his head, he’d have to extend his plan. It’d take at least a week with her in his own bed, stopping to refuel only when it became an absolute necessity. But he couldn’t rush this. This was Angelle. She required an entirely different game plan than the women he was used to. She needed to be wooed.

So, with his lips and tongue, Cane began showing her exactly what he wanted to do to her body. Everything he
hoped
to do before the week was out. And when her tiny, tentative hands reached out to grip the fabric of his shirt, he grinned.

Cane tore himself away from her sweet lips to slide his tongue along the column of her neck. A gasp escaped Angelle’s mouth. She was so responsive. She made him feel like everything was new for her, like he was the first man to make her feel like this. Pride and satisfaction coursed through his veins. He bit and then licked the underside of her jaw, and a deep moan broke free from her throat. And that released the hellcat.

Suddenly slapping his hands out of the way, Angelle knotted her fingers in his hair. Cane chuckled as she tugged roughly on the ends, impatiently yanking him closer and herself higher. Placing his hands around her slim waist, he slid across the seat and tugged her onto his lap. She settled a leg on either side of his hips and they shared a hiss.

“Good Lord.” Her voice came out a slur, almost dazed, and only a sliver of green peeked from beneath her thick fringe of eyelashes. But it was enough to see she was as into what was happening as he was. “So
this
is what it feels like.”

“What
what
feels like?” he asked, molding her curves with both hands. God, she was perfect. He had to keep reminding himself that their first time could not be at an overgrown rest stop on the side of the interstate in broad daylight.

Now, a motel room right off the interstate…

But as soon as that thought entered his mind, he felt it. A shift in the air. Angelle’s loose limbs tensed. Her spine straightened and her eyes widened. Dropping her gaze to his chest, she answered, “Kissing the mighty Cane Robicheaux, of course.”

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed herself off his lap. Cane sat there a moment, stunned.

What just happened?

This woman ran fire hot and ice cold. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying like hell to catch up. And telling his libido to slow the hell down. Sliding his hand to the back of his neck, he squeezed the muscles and watched as she lowered the visor and began smoothing the lines of her smudged lipstick, the hellcat officially back in its cage. “Everything all right there, angel?”

“Peachy.” Angelle fluffed her hair then snapped the visor back in place, smiling at the windshield. Avoiding eye contact. “But we should be getting on our way. Knowing Mama, she has a huge spread prepared, and trust me, we don’t want to be late.”

Glancing at the clock, Cane figured she was right. By the time they got to Bon Terre, it’d be after one. He had a hunch showing up late wouldn’t make the best impression—but he’d be damned if this truck was going
anywhere
until he got a good look at those eyes. He needed to see what in the hell was happening in that gorgeous head of hers before they budged an inch.

“I don’t know,” he drawled, stretching out his long legs as much as the cramped cab would allow. He leaned his head back and shrugged. “I thought we’d make a stop at the Harley store in Scott first. I’m starved and I hear they have a few good places to get cracklins around there, too. I was thinking we’d look around a bit.”

Angelle’s head whipped around so fast it would’ve been comical, had he not been preoccupied with the hidden secrets in her eyes. “Are you serious?”

“No,” he answered, searching her face. Confusion faded, leaving behind wariness, embarrassment, guilt, and even a shade of desperation swirling in the green depths. Whatever made Angelle shut down a moment ago was big. Important to her. And it didn’t have shit to do with her mama’s planned lunch.

Cane wanted to pry. He wanted to make her tell him what had spooked her so badly. But he couldn’t. Obviously, he’d pushed too far, made some mistake, and he didn’t want to do it again. If he wanted Angelle comfortable around him, then he couldn’t force her. She had to come to him, open up to him, on
her
terms.

Scooting back behind the wheel, he buckled up, knowing she was still watching him. He shot her a grin he didn’t feel. “Just messing with ya, sweetheart.” She released a breath and settled back in her seat, reattaching her seat belt. Cane shifted into gear. Reversing from the spot that would be forever etched in his memory, he said, “Let’s go meet the folks.”

Cane kept Angelle distracted during the drive. He asked about her family, her childhood, her favorite subjects when she’d been in school, and the activities she’d liked. Unsurprisingly, horses topped the list. Riding, training, breeding, as long as it involved a horse, Angelle enjoyed it. What did shock him was learning she’d been a math and science nerd, too. Cane had her pegged as a quiet literature or maybe a history girl, but Angelle’s face lit up discussing biology and physics. Discovering they shared an interest in the way the universe worked was refreshing and unexpected. And completely frustrating.

Cane didn’t need another reason to feel connected to Angelle.

He liked her too damn much as it was.

More surprises came learning about her family’s large chicken population, and that her closest sibling had been ten years older. He caught the past tense and wanted to ask, but he bit his tongue. He’d vowed to keep things light—for now. So instead, he asked about her hometown. Angelle’s somber mood instantly lifted as she proceeded to give him an earful about Bon Terre. By the time he took the exit, Cane was sure he could lead the town tour.

Waiting at a stoplight off the busy interstate, Cane glanced around. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve driven past this exit, but I can honestly say I’ve never been here before.”

Angelle laughed softly. “Not many people have. We’re a small town, but we like it that way. Our annual festival and parade draws a decent crowd, enough to feed the local economy. But come Sunday evening, they head on out, and we’re left again in peace.”

Peace
was an apt word. As he drove under the overpass, every lyric to every country song he’d ever heard came to life. Fields of crops, old dirt roads, and red pickup trucks. With the song “Mayberry” by Rascal Flatts playing in his head, Cane asked, “Anything else I should know in the next three minutes?”

She thought a moment. “Just be prepared to meet the welcome wagon. My family’s big to begin with, and I guarantee at least half the town’s population will be waiting on my doorstep. The prodigal child returning home is gossip enough, but they gotta be chomping at the bit to meet the
city boy
I tricked into marrying me.”

Angelle labeling herself a prodigal child was humorous, but what he laughed at was, “
City
boy?” He shook his head. “Have any of these people even been to Magnolia Springs?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said with a shrug. “Anyone who’s not from the country is considered city. Around these parts, that normally means Lafayette, but in comparison to home, even good old Magnolia Springs is
city
.”

Cane shook his head with a smile. He doubted it could be that much different from where he grew up. It appeared Bon Terre had more land and less traffic, but people were people. And with the last name Robicheaux, no one could say he wasn’t Cajun. He glanced over and noticed Angelle’s lips twitching with barely concealed amusement. “What?”

A full laugh broke free as she pointed to his Converse sneakers. He’d figured they would go over better than his motorcycle boots, but apparently, he’d guessed wrong. “You’re gonna catch so much crap for those.”

He rolled his eyes, returning the wave of a passing driver. It wasn’t as if he owned any cowboy boots. And to be honest, Cane didn’t care if the whole damn town had a problem with his footwear, especially when it made her laugh like that. “So everyone will be waiting to meet the
city
boy who sports messed-up kicks. What else?”

Angelle fidgeted with her fingers and turned in her seat to face him. “There’s a very good chance Brady will be leading the pack.”

Cane kept his face purposefully neutral. The truth was he hoped she was right. He’d like to meet the idiot who let her slip through his fingers. “How long were you two together?”