She shrugged. “There’ve been a few subtext jabs about bets being placed on when a certain vain socialite and her BFF beard will back down and admit their ‘wedding’ is a joke, but nothing too nasty.”

It was the only excuse he needed.

Reaching down, Clarke hooked his hand beneath her calves and scooped her legs up so they dangled over his. She yelped as she was thrown off balance and laughed as she looped an arm around his neck to balance herself. “Way to sell it, honey.”

He grinned back. “Look in love, pookie.”

She pressed her cheek to his as he snapped a couple of pictures of them hamming it up, surprised when he felt her head move, her lips press to his cheek.

He snapped the picture as she made a smacking noise, a playful kiss. A friend kiss. And again, Clarke was plagued with that pesky, inconvenient craving for more.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Clarke turned his face toward Audrey, his mouth capturing hers. She stilled in surprise but recovered more quickly than before, her lips parting beneath his almost immediately, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

So he did. Nudging her lips farther apart with his, Clarke let his tongue brush hers, playfully, experimentally, seeing how she’d react. How he would.

His own reaction was immediate. His body ached to do what his brain envisioned: lean her back on the cushion, discover what she was wearing under the pink sweater, learn the feel of her. The taste of her…

“Okay, so we— Whoopsie!” Michelle said with a laugh as she came back into the room.

Audrey pulled her mouth from Clarke’s, and his fingers immediately pressed into her back, wanting to bring her back to him. Instead he slowly, reluctantly released her, letting her laugh and smooth over Michelle’s interruption, not seeming the least bit embarrassed that they’d been caught making out in public.

And why should they be? Engaged couples were notorious for not being able to keep their hands off each other, and the entire nature of the store itself was a guarantee for a very naughty honeymoon.

A honeymoon that wouldn’t happen. Or at least, wouldn’t involve sexy delights like Audrey wearing tiny amounts of lace and nothing else.

Clarke reached for his beer and tried to pay attention to Michelle’s rambling about the various cuts of their new Moulin Rouge line, when all he really wanted to do was hand the woman his credit card, tell her they’d take all of it, and drag Audrey home for a fashion show all their own.

Christ. Clarke tipped the beer back, wishing it were colder and stronger. Get it together, man. It’s Dree.

“Well, I have my work cut out for me,” Audrey said as she picked up her wineglass and headed back to the dressing room after Michelle had left them alone once again.