J.C. and the Bijoux Jolis (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #3)(5)

Wait. Staring at her?

No.

Eyef*cking her, same as he’d been doing since last night when he sidled up to her at the rehearsal dinner and tried introducing himself with so much innuendo, she almost couldn’t hear his words through the cloud of smarm.

Jean-Christian was a predator, plain and simple, and every lazy eye blink, every sexy smirk, every deep breath he took was premeditated to make a woman rip her panties down the middle and mount up with abandon.

And the thing is? Libitz had no problem with that.

Though she wanted, one day, what KK had found in étienne, she had no illusions that it was going to happen any time soon. She’d dated boys from prep school, from summer camp, and from college. She’d met them through well-intentioned mothers at her parent’s temple; through sorority sisters whose boyfriends had brothers; through J-Date, an online dating service for young Jewish singles; and occasionally at posh hotel bars, where she wasn’t above a quick f*ck in a coatroom if she felt like it.

Libitz was no prude, and despite her longing, she had no fanciful ideas about a happily-ever-after around the next bend. Whatever romantic bones she had in her body were protected so far beneath the surface, she wasn’t even positive they still existed. If she hadn’t hidden them away, after all, her veritable parade of Mr. Wrongs would have surely crushed them all to dust.

No, Lib didn’t mind that Jean-Christian Rousseau was on a mission to screw every human being with a vagina in a ten-mile radius, but she refused to be added to his list.

Why?

Mostly because of Kate. Kate English. KK. Libitz’s best friend since kindergarten, where their desks and coat hooks had been side by side because of their last names, English and Feingold. Neither girl had been blessed with siblings, but they’d quickly chosen each other as their adopted sister for life. Through six years of elementary school and seven years of middle and high school, where Libitz was one of four Jewish kids at Trinity Prep in Manhattan, KK and Lib had remained inseparable. There was nothing that Lib wouldn’t do for Kate. Nothing.

And she certainly wouldn’t dream of jeopardizing her long-term relationship with Kate’s new family by f*cking her best friend’s brand-new brother-in-law. He wasn’t some random guy she met in a bar who could give her a nice anonymous f*ck. She was going to know him for the rest of her life, which made him complicated.

Not just complicated.

Forbidden.

But that didn’t mean it was going to be easy to refuse him.

Jean-Christian Rousseau was the epitome of a beautiful bastard—a gorgeous specimen of a male, a man so eminently f*ckable in every way, it physically pained her that she couldn’t let it happen when she’d lowered the bar for far-less-deserving men.

Letting her eyes flick to his for just a moment, she scowled at him and watched as his dark-green eyes lit with amusement. Deep inside, under the bridesmaid dress and the silk lingerie she’d bought for Kate’s wedding, she felt a heat, a blissful pressure in her core, her muscles clenching and relaxing as she turned away from her nemesis, feigning disgust.

Well, partially, anyway.

He was brutally hot. It would be impossible to be disgusted with his tall, muscular body, Henry Cavill good looks, sexy smile, slight French accent, and easy, charming manners.

But when Libitz looked just beneath the surface of the stunning packaging, disgust wasn’t far behind or difficult for her to find and grasp. He was also an opportunist, a sexist, and a possible misogynist. From all accounts, he ploughed (literally) through women like a wrecking ball taking out fifty-seven floors with a single swing. It happened fast, and he was long gone after the destruction.

How did she know this?

Well, she knew what she’d been told by Kate and Stratton—that his list of conquests was substantial, leaving more than one disappointed woman behind—but more importantly, she knew his type: beautiful, charming, self-centered, self-serving men who thought with their dicks.

How many hearts had he broken?

A million, she’d bet. Or more.

And the funny thing was? If you asked him, he’d probably say, “None.” He probably assumed that because he wasn’t interested and made it clear, it staunched any interest or expectations on the side of his partners. Stupid, selfish man. Women didn’t work like that.

At any rate, it wasn’t her business how many hearts he’d broken, only that hers would not be among them.

Unfortunately, however, with a man like J.C. Rousseau, the stronger she was in her refusal, the more ruthless he would likely be in his pursuit. At this point, after two solid days of rolling her eyes and ignoring his come-ons, she was a juicy bone and he was a dirty dog with one thought in his very teeny, tiny mind: to eat her whole.

Libitz just hoped the weekend ran out of time before it all came to a head, because she had experience with men like J.C. Rousseau, and when they didn’t get what they wanted, it rarely ended well. For whatever reason, he’d chosen her as his target for the weekend, and she sensed that he wasn’t going to back off…which meant that eventually he’d run out of patience, call her a “bitch” or worse, and either cause a scene or create a rift between himself and his new sister-in-law, who wouldn’t stand for Lib’s abuse.

And that was the antithesis of everything Libitz wanted both for Kate and for herself. She wanted KK to have a happy life with her new family, smooth and full of love at this tender beginning. And Lib, who also wanted a permanent place in Kate’s new life, didn’t especially want to piss off her brother-in-law out of the gate.