Lukas Brandt had dozens of beautiful girls chasing after him, though. Many of whom would fit right in with his lily-white family. And while a lot of Southern girls are raised not to have sex before marriage, I didn’t know a single girl whose father required all guys who dated his daughter to sign a contract agreeing they wouldn’t have sex until after a marriage ceremony.
But Luk had dutifully driven the hour it took to get from Tulane in New Orleans to my father’s law offices in Baton Rouge. And two hours after that, I found him on the front porch of my Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority house, triumphantly holding up his copy of my father’s dating contract.
When I tried to apologize profusely for the weird obstacle my father had put in the path of any boy who tried to date me, he just smiled and said, “Don't you go apologizing, now. Dating you is worth signing on the dotted line.”
Apparently, he’d meant that. Here he was, after a year of sexless dating, waiting to fete me along with everybody who was anybody in Baton Rouge.
“Steph…” His eyes filled with sweet awe when I reached him at the bottom of the stairs. “You look amazing. You are truly the most beautiful girl in the world.”
When he said that loudly enough to be heard by everyone packed into the foyer, then pressed a kiss onto the back of my hand, I could almost hear the jealous hisses and sighs from the other girls at the party. Most of them would kill to net a boyfriend like Lukas Brandt. Happily.
I could just about feel my mother’s beam of approval from beyond the grave as I gave him a perfect curtsy and replied, “Thank you for cutting your holiday short to join us this year.”
“Anything for you,” he said, his warm green gaze steady on mine. “I truly mean that, Steph.”
“Stephanie, good, you’re finally here.” My father suddenly invaded our conversation, sliding in between us before I could give Luk the gracious reply he deserved. “Let’s thank everyone for coming out.”
He glanced distastefully over his shoulder at Luk, as if he were a plate of rotten food. It didn’t matter that Luk was the heir to a considerable fortune, Dad always treated him like an unwanted pest.
I really did need to talk to Dad about that one of these days. But as I’d explained to a government major my first year at Tulane, who didn’t understand why I wouldn’t just keep dating him a secret from my dad and forget about the contract, “Southern parents have a way of raising their girls to be dutiful, no matter how crazy they get.”
After casting Luk an apologetic look, I returned halfway up the foyer steps to thank everyone for attending—and even more importantly than that, thank my father publicly for throwing me this party.
This was the way of the birthday gala. My mother or, in the case of this year, I did all the work while Dad got all the public credit, as if he’d actually lifted a finger toward the actual execution of this party.
Even worse than having to play along with that piece of Kabuki theater, Dad all but pushed Luk out of the way once we got back down the stairs so he could parade me around the room like a prize show pony.
I spent the next hour pretending to remember people I didn’t recognize, air-kissing wives of business associates I knew my father did not like, and demurely batting away compliments as if I hadn’t planned and replanned my outfit and near-starved myself for two weeks straight to look flawless for this party.
I’d never been a fan of our current Mayor-President. He was what my mother had labeled “a bit handsy with young girls” before warning me never to get caught alone with him. And from what I could tell, his decades hold on his office was based more on cronyism than being of actual service to his constituents. But I let out a breath of relief when he dragged my father away to meet some new judge.
As soon as they disappeared into the crowd, Luk appeared with a glass of water and a plate full of hors d’oeuvres, as if he’d been waiting to attend to me.
“Oh, my goodness, thank you!” I said in a grateful rush before practically shoving all the real food into my mouth. “Why are you the most perfect boyfriend ever?”
Lukas waved me off with a grin. “Thank my mother. Making sure she ate was my main job at the parties she threw. My brother August had to take over the duty when I left for Tulane.”
“Well, if and when we meet, I am going to thank her mightily for raising such a good guy,” I said.
And I totally meant it. Lukas had told me his father was a withholding alcoholic who was currently running their business into the ground between a string of mistresses he practically shoved in his wife’s face. But instead of going the same way, Luk had decided to become everything his father wasn’t.
Honorable, noble, more concerned about others than himself, and above everything else, a good businessman. He’d been a senior when we met last year. But he’d stayed on at Tulane to pursue a business degree. He was a man with a plan for his life.
Honestly, my mother couldn’t have designed a better boyfriend if she had tried.
“I am a very good guy,” Luk agreed. But the look on his face was anything but angelic when he added, low and husky, “However, seeing you in that dress is making me majorly regret agreeing to sign your dad’s contract.”
He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in so I could feel his hard length against my stomach. “Not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to abide by that contract.”
I almost laughed. Almost. I wanted to hold on to Luk. Of course, I did. My mom would rise from her grave and haunt me forever if I failed to seal the deal. But, my father was serious about me not having sex before marriage. Like crazy virginity-contract serious.
Also, I wasn’t exactly as frustrated with the no-sex situation as Luk.
Don’t get me wrong. Luk was great. Everything my mother ever wanted. Plus, he was a really good kisser and made all of my sorority sisters jealous.
It wasn’t his fault he didn’t make my heart flutter. Didn’t fill me with a weird, tugging ache.
Not like Swamp Boy.
