Wow.

  These people did not do parties like other people.

  “Rafe, Star, thank God!” Gigi hurried over to us, beautiful in a fifties-style summer dress. Her feet were noticeably bare, and I saw for the first time the tattoo of vines and flowers that wove along the edge of her right foot and crawled up the side of her ankle. It was beautiful.

  Rafe leaned down to kiss his sister’s cheek and murmured in amusement, “Where are your shoes?”

  “Oh, they were crippling my feet.” Gigi hugged me tight. “I kicked them off somewhere. Who knows where?”

  “I’d have done the same.” And I would have. “Your tattoo is awesome.”

  “Thank you! And look at you. You were smart and chose sexy-comfort.” Gigi eyed my feet and then swept her gaze upward. “You look unbearably beautiful. I’m not sure we can still be friends.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You couldn’t live without me now.” Gigi and I had met up a few times for coffee while I was in the city, and I had to admit I was falling a little in platonic love with Rafe’s sister. She reminded me a lot of Kendall and I couldn’t wait for them to meet.

  “This is true.” Gigi gave Rafe a meaningful look. “You should really do something about that.”

  Rafe scowled at his sister while I frowned in confusion. “What does that mean?”

  “Ooh, there’s Sharon. I haven’t spoken to her in ages. Catch up with you later!” Gigi dashed away with all the energy of an eight-year-old.

  “What did she mean?” I looked up at Rafe.

  He shook his head. “No idea.”

  Then his hand slid onto my back again and my brain fritzed. It was all I could think about as we walked through the party, nodding hello to people we passed. Rafe led us to a small cluster of guests who stood near a makeshift dance floor. Jen and Greg were among them.

  The sounds of children’s laughter and screams met my ears and I followed them to the pool where kids were in their swimsuits goofing around. I smiled at that, because the sight of them took a little of the stuffiness out of the party. I spotted Charmaine among the group and knew that Pippa, and possibly Hugo, had to be around somewhere.

  Jen saw us first, her eyes lighting up as we approached. Rafe’s parents greeted us warmly, and the whole time he didn’t remove his hand from my back. He gestured to the couple that stood with his parents. “Star, this is Emily and Matthew Van Beek. Emily, Matthew, this is my girlfriend, Star.”

  I shook hands with the couple, who seemed friendly, and wished Emily a happy birthday. I tried to concentrate on the conversation, but as they asked if it was true Rafe and I met at Charmaine’s birthday party, Rafe’s hand lifted from my back . . . and then I felt his touch between my shoulder blades. He trailed his fingertips lightly down my spine. Slowly, sensually.

  My breasts swelled at the unexpected touch, my nipples hardening. Panicked, I didn’t answer Emily right away.

  Someone coughed and then Rafe spoke. “We did meet at Charmaine’s party.” He trailed his fingers back up my spine.

  The bastard.

  I didn’t dare look down to see if my nipples were poking through the thin fabric of my dress. I couldn’t wear a bra, so all I had on was boob tape.

  What was he doing to me?

  “So you’re friends with Pippa?” Emily smiled.

  Trying not to frown, I wondered why if they were such close friends of the Whitmans they didn’t know how we’d met.

  “Yes,” Jen answered for me.

  Greg eyed her with a frown.

  “Well, now we are.” I stared in confusion at Jen. “But, no, I was at the party working. I’m a costume character actor.”

  Matthew looked curious. “What does that entail?”

  Rafe started drawing little circles on my lower back. I sucked in a breath and tried to subtly nudge him. If he felt the nudge, he didn’t stop. It was extremely distracting!

  And arousing.

  “I, uh . . .” What the hell did Matthew ask?

  “Star dresses up as cultural icons. Disney characters, movie characters, et cetera,” Rafe supplied for me.

  “Oh.” Emily shot Jen a visible what on earth? look.

  I stiffened.

  Rafe must have felt it, because his hand opened on my back and slid around to my hip to squeeze me in reassurance. “She’s also a professional line sitter.”

  “Do I even want to ask?” Emily chuckled.

  “And is that your career?” Matthew was clearly trying to figure me out.

  “Those are my jobs. I don’t really believe in the idea of a career.”

  Emily guffawed. “Well, I never.”

  “I mean for myself. Of course, I believe in careers. We need doctors, lawyers, vets . . . I get it. Just not for me.”

  When Jen glanced away as if I’d embarrassed her, I felt my stomach knot.

  “Aren’t you unusual, dear?” Emily observed, and I knew it wasn’t a compliment.

  Ugh.

  These were the Whitmans’ friends?

  “Star is unusual.” Rafe glowered at Emily. “Unlike most people, she’s kind to everyone, considerate, lacking in pretension, free-spirited, and the best fucking sex I’ve ever had.” Rafe gave them all a tight grin. “Now, where is the bar?”

  While I was pretty sure I stood there gaping like someone had just hooked me on a fishing line, Greg struggled not to laugh as he pointed out the bar to us. The rest of his companions stared at Rafe as if he were a stranger who’d trespassed upon their party.

  Thankfully, my legs worked as Rafe guided me away from his parents and their friends, muttering under his breath about “these fucking people.” Laughter rose inside me as I hurried to keep up, then he stopped at the bar. He ordered two cold beers and then led me away from the party beneath the shade of another massive oak. “Here.” He handed me a beer.

  I choked on a snort before blurting out, “The best fucking sex you’ve ever had?”

  Rafe studied my face for a second and then burst into laughter.

  I was so shocked by this I could only gawk at him.

  When his laughter trailed off, he grinned that sexy, boyishly wicked smile of his that made me want to rip his clothes off and turn that “best fucking sex” comment into reality. “They were rude and judgmental.”

  I glanced over at where his parents now stood alone, talking to each other in what seemed like hushed tones. “You’ve come a long way, Whitman.”

  Fingers, cold from the bottle of beer, touched my bare back again and I jumped a little as I turned back to him. Rafe caressed the skin, right in the middle of my spine, almost in a soothing motion. Something like remorse glimmered in his eyes. “If that’s how I acted when we met, then I’m sorry, Star. I was a prick.”

  Who was this guy?

  What was going on here? With the affectionate, sensual touches and apologies and sticking up for me? “Rafe . . .”

  “Rafe Whitman, as I live and breathe.”

  The woman’s voice changed Rafe’s demeanor in a blink. His hand fell away from my body, his expression blanked, and he straightened, stiff and composed.

  I followed his gaze to the woman who approached us with a smirk playing on her full lips. She was a level of sexy that would have made me insecure if I were the type of woman who allowed herself to feel small. Seriously, she was built like a Kardashian, and you could see every line of her sleek curves in the pale pink body-contouring dress she wore. It was sleeveless, with a scoop neck, and the hemline ended just below her knees. Her pale pink pumps matched. Her whole look was conservative but outrageously sexy, which was something I hadn’t known anyone could pull off.

  Her dark eyes flickered to me for a second before dismissing me. She forced herself between us to lay a hand on Rafe’s chest as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

  Rafe, thankfully, didn’t lean into the kiss.

  When she pulled back, she stayed close, hand still on his chest.

  I wanted to rip that hand right off him.

  The flare of jealousy was startling.

  Rafe glanced down at her perfectly manicured hand like it was bird poop and instead of relief, I felt my protective instincts awaken.

  He stepped out of her touch and toward me, sliding his arm around me to draw me against him. I snuggled into him, my bangles jingling on my wrist as I rested my hand where hers had been, as if to erase her touch. “Camille, how are you?”

  Camille observed our embrace and her smile turned pained before she covered it with one filled with triumph. “I’m well. Just got promoted to junior vice president at the bank.”

  “Congratulations,” Rafe said tonelessly.

  Who was this sexy corporate woman?

  She lost some of her confidence at his less-than-enthusiastic response. A sad tenderness replaced it. “You look great, Rafferty.” Her gaze came to me when he said nothing, and she reluctantly held out her hand. “I’m Camille Westmoreland. Rafe and I used to date.”

  I pulled on my best acting skills and didn’t react to that or the way Rafe tensed even more at her announcement. “Star.” I shook her hand. “Rafe’s girlfriend.”

  “And I always thought Rafe had a type,” she murmured, dragging her eyes down my body in obvious disbelief. Or maybe even disdain.

  “Camille,” Rafe warned.

  She shook her head like he was a misbehaving child who’d disappointed her. “You know where I am when you decide to get serious about your life.”

  My jaw actually dropped.

  Camille sauntered off, generous hips swaying almost hypnotically. Looking up at Rafe, I spluttered, “Th-these people . . . Rafe, please tell me they are not all like this?”

  “They’re not all like this. But they do think life should be lived a certain way. I told you that. That’s why you’re here in the first place.”

  For some reason, I did not want to be reminded of that right now. “Used to date?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He finished his beer and grabbed my hand. “Let’s find something to eat.”

  An hour later, Rafe was no less brooding. We’d had a stilted conversation with Pippa and Hugo for a while. Pippa had spent the whole time bobbing up and down trying to see past people to the pool, muttering about how no one was watching the kids, until finally she stalked off to do that herself. Hugo was barely there anyway. It was obvious his mind was elsewhere, and when Pippa walked away, he used it as an excuse to disappear into the house.

  Gigi returned to us and navigated introductions with other guests who were mutual friends. Thankfully, not everyone was as passive-aggressively rude as the Van Beeks and Camille Westmoreland. In fact, most of the guests were very nice and I would have been having a good time if Rafe hadn’t reformed to the guy I’d met at Charmaine’s birthday party.

  “What is wrong with you?” Gigi grumbled when another couple left after Rafe grunted answers at their casual questions.

  “Nothing.”

  His sister looked at me, and I gestured subtly with my head. Getting my hint, she excused herself and I stepped into Rafe’s personal space. His nostrils flared at my sudden proximity.

  “So . . . used to date?” I tried again.

  “I told you—”

  “Why are you so sore about it?”

  “I’m not sore about it. I’m pissed that she approached me the way she did when she can see you’re my date. It’s typical Camille.”

  “Then you are giving her too much power.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Whatever she did, if you really are over it, why are you allowing her to ruin your day?”

  “She was rude to you.”

  “Yet when the Van Beeks were rude, you made me laugh about it. C’mon, you can be honest with me, you know. I might be the only one other than Gigi who you can be honest with at this point.” I pressed a fingertip into his chest, the gesture teasing. Finding solid muscle teased me in a different way. I dropped my hand. “So?”

  Rafe exhaled heavily, but the tension in his shoulders loosened as he held my gaze. “Camille was my last relationship. We broke up two years ago. Dated for four years and she cheated on me with a famous actor and dumped me.”

  My lips parted in shock. “She what?”

  “Oh, that’s not the worst part. When he dumped her, I came home to our apartment to find her there, cooking dinner like nothing had happened. She expected me to take her back.”

  “She did not?” I gaped at the outrageous arrogance.

  “She did. So I moved out. Now and then we show up at the same events because of mutual acquaintances and even if she has a date, she tries to convince me we’ll end up together.”

  And he was still bothered about this? Did that mean he still cared about her? A burn flared in my chest, and to my horror, I realized it was jealousy. “You don’t want her back? You can’t forgive her?”

  Rafe’s gaze searched mine. “I was blind to her for a long time. I couldn’t see past her intelligence, confidence, her ambition—”

  “Her rockin’ bod,” I added.

  “Maybe that too.” His smile slipped as he swallowed hard. “But I see past all that now. To what’s important. She was self-involved and she could be unkind. I used to ignore all the catty, judgmental comments she made about other people, writing them off as a consequence of her drive and ambition. Now I think she was never that confident. Who needs to tear down other people to be truly confident, right? But I couldn’t see that then. I just saw her intelligence and determination and I was attracted to her for it. Looking back, I’m not proud of the guy who admired her. That’s not the guy I thought I was.”

  “You know, there’s nothing wrong with admiring ambition. I don’t judge people for that. In fact, contrary to popular belief, I’m the most ambitious person I know.”

  He quirked an interested eyebrow.

  I grinned. “Everyone has ambitions. To be a doctor, a lawyer, an astronaut, a vet, a successful businessperson, a good mother, a good father . . . My ambition is to live a life that makes me truly happy. And I reckon that’s probably the most ambitious anyone can be in this world.”

  Rafe’s eyes lightened, and the look he gave me made my heart race.

  So much so, I sought to change the subject. “So you’re over her?” Why did I need the words?

  He continued to stare at me with a brooding intensity. “Oh, I am definitely over Camille.”

  Relief filled me and I swear, someone else took over my body. Perhaps the green-eyed monster. Because the next thing I knew, I’d grabbed hold of his lapel and pulled him down to me as I lifted onto my tiptoes and covered his mouth with mine. It was supposed to be a quick but hard kiss. However, Rafe brought our mouths back together with his hand on my nape. His other hand pressed deep into my back as he took over the kiss.

  I gasped at the touch of his tongue to mine, and the sound seemed to ignite Rafe. He deepened the kiss and I met him in it. My tongue to his. His kiss was hungry, desperate almost, and it set every inch of me on fire. It wasn’t pretty or romantic. It was blatantly sexual and it consumed me with the need to get him very, very naked and inside me.

  “Uh, guys, get a room.” Gigi’s voice cut through the moment like a bucket of cold water.

  I jerked back, remembering where we were, and Rafe’s hand flexed around my nape as if to stop me from moving away. My lips tingled as we breathed hard, gazing at each other in stupefaction.

  Hottest kiss of my life.

  Rafe appeared dazed enough for me to believe maybe it was for him too.

  But this wasn’t supposed to be real. We both needed to remember that. So I grinned mischievously. “Well played, Whitman. I hope the ex saw that.” I stepped out of his touch and glanced at Gigi, who smiled knowingly at us.

  At Rafe’s silence, I forced myself to look at him.

  The glint of hard determination in his eyes made my heart pound.

  Oh boy.

  “I need another beer.”

  * * *

  • • •

  While I didn’t know how to act around Rafe after the most spectacular kiss anyone had ever given me, he’d returned to Mr. Relaxed. In fact, he was in a damn good mood. I couldn’t analyze that without freaking out.

  When it came time to leave, Jen got me alone and apologized if the Van Beeks had offended me. I told her I wasn’t easily offended, but I was grateful that she’d acknowledged her friend’s rude behavior.

  Rafe had stuck to his one-beer rule because he was driving, but after our kiss, I’d had a few more, and between that and too much sun, I was feeling a little tipsy. I commandeered the radio in the car and switched it to a rock station. Making myself at home, I’d kicked off my gladiator sandals and put my feet on the dash, tapping my hands on my knees as I sang along to the Eagles.

  We slowed in traffic, and I glanced at Rafe, only to find him staring at my legs. My dress had fallen with gravity, baring me from the knee down.

  “Sorry.” I lowered my legs, thinking he minded my feet on his pretty car. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  His gaze flew to mine. “It’s fine.”

  I didn’t put my feet back up on the dash.

  The music changed to Queen, and Rafe reached over and turned down the volume. “Do you think I’m a prick for dating Camille?”

  Shocked by his question—a question that suggested he cared about my opinion—I struggled to find the right words.

  His expression turned guarded. “You do.”

  “No.” I hurried to assure him as I straightened in my seat. “I already told you that. Look, we’ve all dated people we wished we hadn’t.”

  “She cheated because I didn’t love her. She’d tell me she loved me and I couldn’t say it back.”

  “Wow. You dated her for four years without saying ‘I love you’?”

  He shrugged. “I was focused on setting up my clinic and I had little free time and Camille was ambitious, so she understood. I thought I wanted someone like that. Someone who didn’t mind if I didn’t show up for dinner that night. Someone who didn’t mind if I couldn’t say ‘I love you.’ Turns out she minded.”