A Novel Murder - K.C. Wells Page 0,1

being seen together to let your father think we were actually considering his stupid suggestion, but now? I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up the public smiles and fending off questions from friends who want to know if wedding bells are in the future.”

Jonathon snorted. “If they were really your friends, they wouldn’t be asking such idiotic questions. Unless they want to know when you’re marrying Clare, which is totally acceptable.”

“Have you asked him to marry you?”

Jonathon’s gaze was once more on Mike. “Not yet, no. I didn’t want to propose, then keep him waiting for years. If I’m going to get down on one knee, it’ll be because I already have a date in mind.”

She chuckled. “Sorry. I’m picturing you kneeling in Merrychurch’s tea shop, proposing over the coffee and walnut cake with all the old dears clucking around you.”

He widened his eyes. “Oh, I like that.” He leaned in close and whispered, “I already have the ring.”

Ruth gaped. “You dark horse. When did you get that?”

“When I went shopping after the New Year’s Eve ball. Mike stayed at the hotel.” Jonathon grinned. “I guess I wiped him out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me the details of your sex life.”

Jonathon smirked. “We were dancing. Not everything that comes out of my mouth is dirty.”

“No—only a mere 99 percent of it.” Ruth frowned. “Wait a minute. You were dancing with me all night. Mike sat and watched. How did that wipe him out?”

Jonathon bit back a smile. “We were dancing in our hotel room.”

Ruth arched her eyebrows. “Ah-ha. And now we have the truth. Horizontal dancing.”

He wasn’t about to deny it. At that moment he caught sight of a photographer getting closer. “Paste on your smile. We’ve got company.”

“I was thinking of something more along these lines.” Ruth gave him an adoring look.

He snickered. “Don’t overdo it, or my father really will be expecting imminent wedding news.”

“Too much? Got it.” Ruth smiled at him as they danced past the man with the camera, both she and Jonathon turning their heads in his direction. Once he’d taken his photo, Ruth leaned in. “Now dance me over to where Mike is, and the three of us can sit, drink, and talk—providing he hasn’t finished off all the champagne.”

“That works for me.” Jonathon steered them in Mike’s direction, loving how Mike’s face lit up when he saw them approaching. He took in the state of the glasses and signaled to a nearby waiter for more champagne.

They had plans to make, and a council of war required sufficient alcoholic lubrication.

MIKE PROPPED himself up on the pillows and watched Jonathon undressing. “So what am I missing at the Grosvenor? Because I thought we were staying there. What’s it like?” Not that he was complaining about Jonathon’s choice of hotel. The bed was as supremely comfortable as the last time they’d stayed there, and the unexpected bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket was a pleasant surprise. The Soho Hotel had been his treat for Jonathon’s twenty-ninth birthday, and they’d had a wonderful weekend.

“Swanky. Expensive. You’d hate it.” Jonathon flashed him a grin. “Besides, we had a great time when we were here last. I thought you might like to relive the experience.”

“Which part? The bath? The shower? The bed? The carpet? The lack of sleep?” Mike looked Jonathon up and down as the clothing fell away to reveal his lean form. “As handsome as you look in a tux, I much prefer you out of it.”

Jonathon’s phone buzzed, and he groaned. “I thought I’d put it on silent. It had better not be my father.”

“Then don’t look,” Mike suggested. “Whoever it is can wait. This is our first Valentine’s Day together, and I’ve spent most of the evening not being able to touch you. I want to make up for lost time.” He gazed at the red roses standing in a vase on the table. No one had ever bought him flowers on Valentine’s Day, let alone roses, and the romantic gesture was perfect after spending an evening keeping Jonathon at arm’s length.

Jonathon glanced over at his phone, then climbed naked onto the bed and crawled over to him. “It was a great dinner, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Mike agreed, temporarily distracted by Jonathon’s obvious arousal. His own erection was already tenting the soft white sheet that covered it.

“And the entertainment was top-notch?”

“It was.” Mike smiled. “But all I could think of was the finale when I finally got you to myself.”

“I’m