Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(50)
The bottle stopped.
Carter stopped gnawing his lip. He looked up, surprised he cared who the stupid bottle had chosen. But, somehow, he did.
It pointed to Dan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
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“CARTER!”
Carter turned toward the shrill greeting. The way Valerie was charging through the crowd of alumni, you’d think she used to play offense for the varsity team instead of being the head cheerleader. “You’re late,” she chided.
“Car trouble.”
Valerie’s gaze slid over Liz before settling on him again. “You always were trouble,” she murmured. “Bad boys are always bad boys, aren’t they?”
“Sometimes they’re just misunderstood,” Liz replied. Somehow her hand had found his elbow. He wrapped his fingers over hers gratefully.
Valerie raised her over-plucked eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t think misunderstandings required bail. Not that I’m one to point fingers,” she chuckled and leaned close, and Carter wondered if she’d been making use of the cash bar. She’d never been one to shy away from liquid courage. “God, you look good in a suit,” she purred. “Come with me. The photographer from the local paper is here taking candids. I know the perfect spot for us.”
“If it’s posed,” Liz cut in, “it’s hardly a candid.”
“We just got here,” Carter soothed, noting Valerie’s flash of irritation. “I think Liz and I will just mingle for a while. Catch you later?”
“Sure,” Valerie smiled, her lips taut, then pulled him close to murmur in his ear. “But if Miss Goody-Two-Shoes can’t keep up with you, you know where the fun crowd will be.” With that she waved at another late arrival and slipped away.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Liz mumbled.
“That makes two of us,” Carter concurred.
“No, I mean I don’t feel well. This dress is so tight, I can hardly breathe. I feel lightheaded.”
Carter peered at Liz’s chest as she swayed ominously. He reached out to hold her up, then frowned, his fingers pressing into her sides. “Good God. What have you got on under there?”
Liz’s cheeks bloomed with color as she batted his hands away. “My bra.” He raised one of those blasted eyebrows. “It’s lightly padded,” she murmured.
“Lightly? There’s got to be a good quarter inch of stuffing working against you. Just go take it off and you’ll have room to breathe.”
“You sound like my sister. This silk is so thin, I’m afraid—”
“Someone might notice you have breasts? Too late. I see them.”
“This is mortifying.”
“More so than fainting into the cheese buffet? Take it off, Liz. You’ll feel better.”
“I don’t—”
“Do it or I’ll do it for you,” he warned as he propelled her down a nearby hall.
“You wouldn’t.”
He grinned, enjoying the way her white teeth nibbled her lip nervously. “Is that a dare?”
“No! Anyway, I can’t do it. If you must know, my sister zipped me into this thing. I can’t reach the zipper myself.”
“How did you plan to get it off when you got home?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I just bought it six hours ago.”
“No pre-planning? That’s not like you. Sure you don’t have a touch of ADHD yourself? Well, worry yourself no more. Turn around.”
“Why?”
“I’ll unzip you,” he said magnanimously. Far be it for him to stand around while a woman suffocated in her own undergarments.
“Here?”
“We’re behind the potted plant, nobody’s looking. Now’s your chance.”
“I think I’d better go in the ladies room.”
“I can’t go in there.”
“Afraid it’ll impinge on your masculinity?”
“No. They banned me from it eight years ago. Long story,” he added at her raised brow.
“I’m sure.”
“Turn around. We can do this.” He gently grasped her shoulders and maneuvered her around.
“Oh, all right. Just make it quick.”
“Now those aren’t words I usually hear from a woman when I’m unzipping her dress...”
“Carter.”
“Okay. The coast is clear.” He gripped the zipper pull and leaned toward her ear. “Do you want me to unclasp you while I’m at it?”
“What?”
“Do you want me to unclasp you, you know, while I’m back here?”
Her cheeks went crimson as she turned away from him. “It’s a front closure. Could we please hurry?”
Carter slid down the zipper and pushed at the shoulder straps of her dress—just to be helpful—as Liz practically snapped her bra off into his face. She was just shrugging the shoulders of her dress back up when footsteps approached down the hallway.
“Carter McIntyre? Is that you? Ho! How’s it been! And Brainy Beacon?”
Carter stuffed Liz’s bra into his pants pocket as Liz shot upright beside him, the back of her dress flapping wide. She brushed her hair behind her ear, in part, he surmised, to keep her straps from slipping down her arms.