The Dating Plan(41)
“How is Layla?” He secured his helmet to the back of his bike.
“Very skeptical of you and your motives.”
He bit back a chuckle. “I would expect nothing less. She always had your back.”
“So this is your motorcycle.” Daisy walked a full circle around his bike.
“That’s my baby.” He patted the dark brown seat. “It’s a Ducati XDiavel S in liquid concrete gray with black mechanics.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.” The words dropped from his lips before he could stop them. She was wearing a cherry red dress with white polka dots that hugged all her curves and dipped low at the top, giving him a delicious glimpse of the soft swell of her breasts.
“Thank you.” Her gaze dropped and she pulled her phone out of a small red purse that matched her shoes.
Liam had never thought much about a woman’s shoes before, but Daisy’s shoes demanded to be noticed. Curvy and round with bows on top and a high, graceful heel that made his mouth water, they were sweet and sexy all at once—the kind of shoes a man could admire when his lover was bent over his table in her fancy dress, skirt flipped up, and . . . fuck, why had he locked his helmet to his bike?
Shrugging off his leather jacket, he held it discretely in front him and forced his mind back to the conversation because, holy hell, when had he ever let his Daisy fantasies get this out of control?
“Not bad reviews for the XDiavel.” She read off her screen. “‘Brave, irreverent, and unconventional.’ ‘So good to be bad.’ ‘Powerful.’ ‘Muscular.’ ‘Imposing front.’ ‘Strong and restless.’” She snorted a laugh. “Did you match the motorcycle to your personality or was it the other way around?”
Liam’s chest puffed with pride. “It called to me in the showroom.”
Daisy laughed. “Imagine that.”
It was the laugh he remembered, the deep, throaty chuckle that warmed him inside. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine her on his bike, arms locked around his waist, chest pressed up against his back, her thighs curved against his hips. He imagined riding with her until they ran out of road, leaving the past behind them.
Maybe Rainey was right. Maybe he had fallen for his fake fiancée. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it except keep playing the game.
“Who are we meeting today?” Daisy asked. “I like to be prepared.”
“A mix of great-aunts and great-uncles who came from Ireland for the funeral, and relatives who live nearby.” He rattled off a list of names. “You’ll know my aunts Roisin and Fiona right away because they’re always fighting, and usually they’ll drag my uncle Fitz into it. Great-Uncle Seamus is a bit of character. He was only here a few days and managed to stir up trouble flirting with the neighbor’s wife. Brendan will be there with his wife, Lauren, and his son, Jaxon, and there might be a few others . . .”
“Don’t look so concerned.” Daisy tapped her head. “I’ve got this. Every name is in the mental vault, and I’ve got our talking points on my phone in case you didn’t read them.”
Puzzled, he frowned. “What talking points?”
“They’re going to ask us questions about our relationship,” Daisy said. “I was caught off guard at work when Tyler blurted out the news of our engagement, and I don’t want it to happen again. I wrote out the story of how we met in an e-mail, as well as the answers to other questions they might ask, and sent it to you. As I suspected, you didn’t read it.”
Liam grimaced. “I get a lot of e-mails . . .”
Her free hand found her hip. “Is that supposed to be an apology?”
“Yes?” Despite Daisy’s obvious annoyance, he felt a curious sense of peace wash over him. He’d been worried about this get-together, but Daisy clearly had everything under control. Just as she had done in the past, she took all the chaos and made it calm.
“It better be or you’re suddenly going to find yourself without a fiancée.” She pressed her lips together and glared. “You should read it before we go in so you know how we met.”
“I thought we met at a tech conference a few weeks ago after you bumped into me with an armload of stolen pads,” he teased.
“I didn’t steal them,” Daisy gritted out. “And we can’t say that because we’re supposed to have met months ago. I came up with a story about how we met at a bus stop during a rainstorm. Kissing in the rain is the ultimate cinematic symbol of uncontrollable passion. It’s the moment when the audience willingly accepts that the characters’ love is so intense that they don’t even notice they are getting wet.”
“Someone has been reading too many art house film reviews.” With one hand on her lower back, Liam walked her to the front door. “Just so I understand, we met again after ten years, and instead of the usual catch-up, we threw ourselves at each other in a passionate kiss, so instantly and intensely in love we didn’t even notice the rain?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“No kiss. I’ll make it clear in the story.” She handed him the box of sweets to type on her phone.
Liam leaned over to look at her screen. “Also make it clear that I don’t take the bus, so I would never be at a bus stop.”