He shot Gina a faux insulted look. ‘Why do I get the feeling that Cassie isn’t fond of jocks?’
Gina lifted a shoulder. ‘Don’t take it personally. Cassie’s not fond of men generally.’ He shot her a look and she cut him off before he gave voice to what she knew he was thinking. ‘Not women, either.’
Tuck grinned, then turned his attention back to Cassie. Okay, so he had his work cut out for him. His momma always said things came too damn easy to him anyway. Her eyes were even prettier up close. A grey-blue, like a misty lake, with subtle charcoal and silver eyeshadow bringing out both colours perfectly.
He nodded at her place card on the table next to his and said, ‘Looks like I have the whole night to change your mind.’ Then he pulled out her chair and smiled at her.
Cassie didn’t move for a moment. She simply stared at him as the deep modulation of his voice joined forces with his heady scent to drench every cell in her body with a sexual malaise. Her nipples beading against the fabric of the flimsy dress Gina had loaned her snapped her out of it.
‘I usually require several pieces of evidence from trusted sources before I change my mind about anything,’ she said primly, taking the seat.
‘Noted,’ Tuck murmured, stifling a grin as he took his seat. He lounged back in it, regarding Cassie as she fiddled with her cutlery. ‘So, you don’t sound like you’re from around these here parts,’ he said.
‘No.’ Cassie refused to elaborate. Just because Reese thought it was a good idea to sit them together, it didn’t mean she had to be agreeable.
Gina rolled her eyes and took pity on Tuck. ‘Cassie’s Australian.’
‘Ah. Whereabouts? Sydney? That’s one pretty little city you have there,’ he said.
‘Canberra,’ Cassie said as she ran her finger up and down the flat of her knife. ‘It’s the capital,’ she added. A lot of people didn’t realise that.
And he was a jock.
‘Well, now,’ he said, leaning forward in his chair, his gaze acknowledging Gina before returning to Cassie, ‘we can have us a meeting of the United Nations.’
‘Hardly,’ Cassie said, desperately trying to sit as far back in her chair as possible and remember that he was a jock—a footballer—even if he did have pheromones so potent he should be being studied at the Smithsonian. Or milked and sold to the highest-bidding perfume manufacturer.
‘There are one hundred and ninety-three member states in the United Nations. And they meet in Geneva.’ She looked at Tuck. Jocks weren’t very good with geography. ‘That’s in Switzerland.’
Tuck raised an eyebrow. He was used to people making assumptions about his intelligence. Truth be told, he played up to them mostly—because calling people on their ignorance was usually an amusing way to pass the time.
It looked as if he was going to have a whole lot of fun with Cassie. ‘That’s just north of Ireland, right?’
Cassie pursed her lips. ‘It’s in Europe.’
‘Europe? Dang,’ Tuck said, broadening his accent. ‘I’m always getting them muddled up.’
‘Of course if you’re talking about the Security Council,’ Cassie plunged on, as the deep twang in his accent twanged some invisible strings low down inside her she’d never known existed, ‘that’s in New York. And you’d be in luck as Australia has just scored a seat on the Security Council.’
Tuck shot a look at Gina, who winked and grinned, clearly enjoying herself. Tuck was about to say something like, They wear those funny blue helmets at the Security Council, right? But the imperious tones of his and Reese’s Great-Aunt Ada interrupted.
‘Samuel Tucker,’ she said in her brash, booming New York accent. ‘How’d you sneak in here undetected?’
Tuck stood and smiled down at the self-appointed matriarch of the family. A died-in-the-wool Yankee, she liked to pretend that the Southern branch didn’t exist most of the time, but he had a soft spot for the sharp-tongued octogenarian.
‘Aunt Ada,’ he said, sweeping her up in his arms for a hearty hug. ‘Still as pretty as a picture, I see.’
Cassie felt herself sag a little as Tuck and his overwhelming masculinity gave her some breathing space.
‘Don’t sweet-talk me, young man. What are you doing all the way over here?’
Tuck gestured to the table. ‘I’m keeping Reese’s friends company.’
‘Reese…’ Ada tutted. ‘Running off after that Marine… That girl hasn’t got the sense she was born with…lucky she’s my favourite.’
‘Now, come on, Aunt Ada,’ Tuck teased. ‘I thought I was your favourite.’ Ada gave him a playful pat on the shoulder, then lifted one gnarled old hand and squeezed his cheek.
Gina’s mobile rang and she almost ignored it. She couldn’t decide what was more fascinating—the big blond quarterback sweet-talking an old lady or Cassie’s deer-in-the-headlights face. But it rang insistently, and Ada turned to her, looking imperiously down her nose.
‘Well, girl, are you going to answer that or not?’
Gina, recognising authority when she saw it, picked it up immediately. The screen display flashed a familiar number. ‘It’s Reese,’ she announced.
‘Reese.’ Ada tutted again. ‘Tell her to get back here. This non-wedding party was her hare-brained idea.’
Gina laughed, but as she answered the phone Ada’s interest had already wandered.
Cassie felt her shrewd gaze next.
‘This your girl?’ she said, turning to Tuck.
‘Absolutely not,’ Cassie said indignantly.
Then Tuck undid his jacket button and it fell open, wafting a heady dose of pheromones her way. She shut her eyes briefly as her pulse spiked in primal response.
‘She’s not your usual type,’ Ada said, ignoring Cassie’s denial.
‘I am not his girl,’ Cassie repeated, even though she could practically hear every cell calling his name.
‘It’s okay,’ Ada assured her. ‘I hate his usual type. Too…fussy.’
Tuck looked down at Cassie. She was frowning at him, her eyebrows weren’t plucked, and she wasn’t wearing a single scrap of jewellery. No one in the world would have described her as fussy. And yet there was something rather intriguing about her…
‘We are not together,’ Cassie reiterated. The thought was utterly preposterous.
‘Reese says she and Mason aren’t coming back tonight,’ Gina announced as she terminated the phone call, interrupting the conversation.
‘Right, then,’ Ada said. ‘Looks like we have a show to be getting on with. Samuel, go and tell that dreadful DJ to announce dinner. I’ll get the wait staff to start
