He watched Allison walk toward the First Lady’s table. His date for the evening was the President and First Lady’s niece. Talk about a friggin’ head scratcher for you.
“You should ask her out for dinner or something,” his sister whispered, interrupting his thorough visual inspection of Allison’s ass. “You haven’t stopped staring at her all night.”
If his sister had caught him staring, he wouldn’t deny it. “Not happening.”
Stopping near her aunt, Allison pulled out a chair between the First Lady and another man he didn’t recognize. After giving her aunt a kiss and hug, she did the same thing to the man on her right. Lucky SOB.
“That’s only AJ. He’s Elizabeth’s nephew from England,” Addison said, her voice still low as she patted his hand.
His sister referred to the First Lady of The United States as if she were talking about a neighbor down the street. “Thanks for the family tree lesson.”
“I’m serious. You should ask Allison out sometime. I think you’d have fun together.”
The man his sister called AJ said something and Allison’s head fell back as she laughed, and he pictured himself kissing all the pale skin exposed by her low-cut dress. He’d touched her arm earlier tonight, so he already knew how soft her skin was. Now he’d give almost anything to know how it tasted against his lips.
“Already told ya. Not happening.”
“When was the last time you went on a date?”
Addie could switch tactics all she wanted, it wouldn’t change his mind. A woman like Allison Sherbrooke didn’t date men like him. “Last month.”
“I didn’t ask when you last slept with a woman. How long has it been since you went out with someone you’d consider being in a real relationship with. You know, the kind you take to meet Mom and Dad.”
His sister knew him too well. Someday, he wanted what sister had; he just hadn’t had much luck finding it. Instead he found women who wanted to change him into some nine-to-five, suit-wearing chump who got manicures. Or worse. He got involved with Corey, the first and only woman he’d thought might be the one, at least until he returned from one of his deployments. Evidently, no sooner had his boots touched down in Afghanistan and she’d started sleeping around. Of course she’d had an excuse. She’d claimed she’d been bored and missed him. She’d argued that none of those men had meant anything. He said arrivederci, as well as a few other curses, and never looked back. That had been almost two years ago. Since then, he’d taken finding the one off the table and focused on other things.
“Just because I find her sexy doesn’t mean what your talking about could ever exist between us. Did you forget she calls POTUS, Uncle Warren?”
“So does Trent.”
He hated when his sister was right.
Addie poked him in the arm. “Don’t even think about saying that’s different.”
His baby sister was getting quick. “It is.”
Across the room, Allison gave the First Lady another hug before she stood. After saying something to the other people seated, she turned and walked in his direction, the movement of her hips and ass a red flag drawing the attention of every male present.
“Think about it. I’ve seen her looking at you tonight. She’d say yes if you asked her.”
It panged him to do it, but Rock looked away from Allison and at his sister instead. “Let. It. Go.”
Like a good annoyed little sister, Addie rolled her eyes and sighed. “Poor Trent. He looks miserable over there. I should go and save him.”
His brother-in-law looked as though he was about to face a firing squad as he spoke with an older gentleman. “Looks like he just got reinforcements.” He watched a couple join Trent.
“That’s Trent’s cousin Sara and her finance Christopher. They were at the wedding.”
He’d recognized the woman. After all, she was the President’s youngest daughter. Not to mention, there was no mistaking her for a Sherbrooke, yet he couldn’t honestly say whether or not he’d spoken with her back in January. Other than Allison, all the Sherbrookes he’d met that night had blended into one fuzzy memory.
Rock stored the information and went back to a more enjoyable activity, watching Allison walk back, envious of the damn dress she wore and the fact it got to cling to her body the way he’d dreamed about doing.
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