The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(84)

I stare at my reflection in the mirror and exhale heavily. I turn and check my behind. I’m wearing a gold Chanel dress that Jameson picked off the rack yesterday. My long dark hair is set into large curls and pinned behind one ear, and my makeup is glamorous with glossy red lips.

I’m nervous as all hell. This is the first time I’ve ever been anywhere formal with him as his date . . . and of course, his whole family is going to be there to witness it.

Could be a complete disaster.

Just don’t spill anything on your dress or drink too much champagne and be embarrassing, I remind myself.

God, I couldn’t cope.

The worst thing is, because I’m so nervous, I want to power drink.

“Are you nearly ready, my fuck bunny?” Jameson calls. He appears around the door and gives me a slow, sexy smile as his eyes drop down the length of my body. “Jesus, you look beautiful.”

I brush my hands nervously over my thighs. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.” He takes me in his arms and kisses my cheek. “I don’t like those red lips, though.”

“Oh.” My face falls.

“I can’t kiss you without wearing the evidence.”

I smile as he holds me. Something has changed between us again today.

Another day, another dynamic.

I feel so close to him. Something about all that honesty yesterday tore down my defenses against him. Molly is completely right, and I am looking for the negative in this, but I can’t help it; I fear my heart may be in dire danger.

If he leaves me . . . how would I cope?

I’ve been hurt before, and although I know that Jameson is in a completely different league than my past relationships, the prospect is terrifying.

This one will hurt . . . deeply.

He’s wearing a black tuxedo and a bow tie; his eyes are a brilliant blue, and his dark hair frames his beautiful face.

I’ve never had a man terrify me the way that Jameson Miles does. He’s everything I never knew I needed.

He takes my hand in his. “Do you have everything?”

“Uh-huh.” I put my hand over my heart to try to will it to slow down.

“What’s wrong?” he says softly.

“I’m nervous.”

He smiles sexily. “You’ll be fine.”

“Don’t let me drink too much, okay?”

“Okay.” He smirks as we walk to the door.

“And if you see me drinking too much, take my glass from me.”

He frowns.

“Honestly, Jay, I go from a level four to a ten in two mouthfuls.”

He smirks and then, thinking on that statement further, throws his head back and laughs out loud. “Not a truer word has ever been spoken.”

I drop my mouth open in fake horror. “I’m not talking about head, Jameson.”

“I am.” He kisses my hand. “And for the record, you went from a ten to a twenty.”

I smirk, and he bends and kisses my neck and then my shoulder and then my breast through my dress.

“The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave.” He runs his hand down my behind and gives me a sharp slap.

Half an hour later, the limo pulls into the parking bay, and I look around at all the beautiful people in black tie. As my nerves begin to kick me hard, Jameson picks up my hand and kisses the back of it, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

What will I say to his mother? His father? Oh hell . . . why did I come?

Alan opens the door, and Jameson climbs out and then takes my hand and helps me. His hand tenderly goes to my lower back. “Thank you,” he says to Alan.

“Thank you.” I smile.

Jameson takes my hand, and we walk up toward the large front doors. A few people do a double take as they see us, and people are staring. I hold my breath as he leads me through the crowd. “Hello, Jameson,” someone says.

He nods politely but doesn’t stop to chat. We walk in through the double doors, and he leads me straight to a table up at the front. It’s round with a white linen tablecloth and silver cutlery all lined up, and beautiful white flowers and candles sit in the center.

Crap, what’s the eating order of the cutlery? I need to go to the bathroom and google this shit. Jameson’s father is sitting at the table along with an older woman. She has dark hair that sits in a perfect bob. She’s very attractive and wearing a glamorous black evening dress with long sleeves.

“Mom, Dad, this is Emily.” He presents me proudly. “These are my parents, Elizabeth and George.”

“Hello, dear.” His mother stands and kisses both my cheeks and holds me at arm’s length as she inspects me. “Well, aren’t you something special.” She smiles warmly.

Oh, she’s nice. I smile awkwardly, and his father pulls me from his mother and kisses my cheek. “Hello, Emily. I didn’t get a chance to talk with you properly the other day. Lovely to meet you.”

“Yes, you too,” I whisper.

Jameson pulls out my chair, and I sit down as my heart races in my chest. I can feel my face flushing, and I silently die a little. Don’t go red now, stupid. I get an image of a beetroot face sitting next to Mr. Gorgeous here. Jameson pours me a glass of champagne and passes it over.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I take it from him. My eyes hold his in a silent “help me” signal.