Chapter Six #2
Slowing as they approached their destination, he groaned, long and exaggerated, while all too happy to have the barriers back in place. Still, he liked the less angry bantering Legs and couldn’t resist teasing her. “So you can break the rules, but I can’t?”
“That’s right. For your safety, all body parts must remain with their operator. We wouldn’t want you to lose anything important.”
“No, we wouldn’t.” He stopped in front of the hotel hosting the Libraries for Literacy Gala and jumped out. Handing the key to the valet, he rounded the car.
Another valet had already opened her door, so Avery held out his hand without thinking. “Oops, does this count as operator error?”
Blinking against the flashing lights from the paparazzi roped off to one side, she ducked her head and blindly accepted his hand.
He should have warned her, but they were like background noise to him, always there but nothing to pay much attention to, not like the flash of leg through the slit hiding in the fullness of her skirt.
He socked that little jewel of convenience away for later, then remembered the rules. No touching. No gliding his hand through the slit in her dress and up her long, silky-smooth thigh to discover other treasures.
Fuck. This was going to be harder than he thought.
With an inward sigh, he hooked his arm through hers to lead her up the red carpet, through the front doors, and into the lobby. A few people he knew, clients mostly, gathered here and there. Some stared at Legs with open curiosity.
He nodded at a few but didn’t stop like he would have had he been alone. Having a woman—a date—on his arm, was all new to him, and if he was honest, it made him a little nervous.
The ballroom was on the second floor, so he headed up the grand staircase. “My family is probably already here.”
When Legs didn’t comment, he looked at her.
Outwardly, she seemed to take it all in with the bored elegance of a seasoned debutante, chin high, one hand on his arm, the other holding her dress off the next step.
The rapid flutter at the base of her throat and a dewy sheen glistening on her upper lip argued otherwise.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
A rushed breath expelled from her as if she’d been holding it. “No.”
When they reached the landing halfway up, Avery stopped and turned her to face him. “What’s wrong? Do you feel sick?”
Blue eyes darted to those still watching them from below and to others passing them on the stairs. “They’re all staring.”
“Yes, they are.” His smile widened into a grin. “And why wouldn’t they? You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight.”
He’d hoped she’d call him on his bullshit—not that he was lying; she was stunningly beautiful—or give him a snort or a whispered fuck you in that damned sexy voice of hers, but she couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing.
Instead, she pressed a hand to her stomach and swallowed. “What if I can’t do this? I’ve never been to anything like this before. I’m not like these people.”
“We’re just people. Besides, this crowd won’t be much different than the night we met.”
Desperation emanated from her as she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Yeah, but I was on the other side that night. I was invisible, part of the background.”
Cupping her flushed face with his hands, he walked her backward, out of the way of nosy passersby, and lowered his head so that she’d hear him, really hear him. “Believe me, you were not invisible. You walked around as if you owned the place, confident, sexy as hell. I watched you all night.”
That garnered the snort he’d been after, even though he meant every word.
“You’d watch anything in a skirt.”
He grinned. “Only if they have legs like yours.”
“Or boobs like What’s Her Name.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he said, unable to hide the grimace as he pulled back and grasped her hands.
She laughed, the sound natural, easy, and music to his balls. “Did you ever learn her name?”
“Yeah, she’s stalking me now.”
“Poor baby.”
“Do you feel up to breaching the castle of doom or shall we head for the hills?”
“Castle of doom, it is.” She turned toward the second set of steps and peered up at him with a smile that tightened his gut.
What the fuck?
“I might need to have another laugh at your expense. Maybe a few as the night progresses. You know, just to make me feel better about myself.”
“I am at your disposal.” At least for as long as it took to satisfy his family and his matchmaking mother. Because, fuck, for a minute, he’d almost forgotten why Legs was here. And that sure as hell wasn’t to tie him to her side. He was a free agent, and she was…
Not my fucking girlfriend.
****
As ballrooms went, this one was just like all the others Jo had worked in, serviceable but beautifully decorated.
This time, though, she wasn’t mapping the logistics of table placement, how many steps to the kitchen, and the best inconspicuous places to stand so that she was invisible.
Tonight, she felt like all eyes were on her.
Avery might have talked her off a ledge, but he’d created another in the process, and she needed to check herself. He was only being nice to keep her in the game, and earlier at her apartment… Well, that was just the player wanting to play, and maybe a battle of egos with Chase.
To put them back on an even keel, Jo slipped her fingers free of Avery’s. He turned around, concern darkening those deep brown eyes as they flickered from their parted hands to her face. He thought she was freaking out again.
She smiled to assure him, but his frown stayed in place. “Rules.”
“Right,” he said, his lips twisting into a smirk. He nodded and continued to weave through the tables toward the front where the entire Preston family waited for them.
Being late was something she tried to avoid, but right now, she wished they were running behind and could have snuck in during the program while all eyes were on the podium and talking was impossible.
Suck it up, buttercup.
Avery was stopped almost immediately. Five men stood, all of them shaking Avery’s hand while giving her curious looks, as if sizing her up. Avery ran through their names quickly, but there were too many to remember.
The subject changed to business, and Jo tried not to fidget. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, one text after another rolling in. No doubt Chase had already blabbed her misfortune to Walt.
One of the women rose to greet her, her smile genuine. “Olivia Martinelli.”
“Jo Hayes.” Jo glanced at the other women, but they were deep in conversation.
“Don’t mind them,” Olivia whispered. “They’re just part of the decoration and about as dull.” She rolled her eyes. “Nothing but arm candy.”
A nervous giggle burst from Jo before she could stop it. She shouldn’t laugh since she’d recently joined their ranks. “I hear the pay’s great.”
Maybe she should compare notes with the other two, just to make sure she was earning a fair wage.
But then, the men they were here with were payment enough in and of themselves—one with an intensely sinful vibe, the other broodingly hot.
Both provoked images of mayhem. Mayhem that resulted in one big O after another.
Not that Avery hadn’t offered or that she’d ever reached the big one Brooke rattled on and on about, but Jo still figured she was getting the better deal. Independence. Security. A heart that remained in one piece.
Okay, so there were a couple of scratches and dents. But it wasn’t broken.
“Sorry,” Olivia said, drawing Jo out of her head, “but I’ve been held hostage by a debate over the difference between flamingo pink and rose petal blush since we got here.”
“But don’t you know, that’s the hottest new conversation,” Jo said lightly tapping Olivia’s arm, the dark green acrylics Brooke had given her for Christmas shimmering. Underneath, her nails were a mess, filed down to the quick. Baking didn’t allow for French tips.
French crêpes, French macarons, French toast? Mmm, magnifique.
“Of course, what was I thinking?” Olivia teased back, her voice sing-songing as she blew on shiny black nails as if they were wet. She sighed. “The things I do for my job.”
Jo darted a glance at the tall, dark and spank-me daddy talking to Avery. “He’s your boss?”
“Yeah, he’s a slave driver.” Olivia’s gaze melted over him, and for a fraction of a second, her guard slipped.
There was something more there. Then she blinked and smiled.
“He’s also my best friend, and I’d do anything for him, even if it means putting up with his obnoxious friends and eating horrible food. And the hours suck.”
Jo’s heart constricted. Foolish girl. She was yet another reminder not to break the rules again or let herself become too invested in this charade. She wasn’t Cinderella, and Avery wasn’t her happily-ever-after prince. He was the Big Bad.
Something told her every man at this table was just like him.
“Let’s go,” Avery said at her side.
“It was really nice to meet you,” she said to Olivia.
“Maybe we can chat later?” Olivia gave her female companions a side-eye. “To help keep me sane?”
“I’d love that.” Jo gave her a sympathetic wave and followed Avery to his family’s table.
They were clustered in two groups, the men in what looked like a serious conversation, the women smiling as they watched her and Avery approach.
Charlotte Reese linked her arm through Marcus’, and Jo thought she whispered, “See, it’s her.”
He followed her gaze and a smile of recognition parted his lips.
She’d met them at the tasting at Giselle’s, but she hadn’t expected them to remember her. And she’d refreshed her memory of the rest of his family with an extensive Google search after agreeing to Avery’s plan.
Again, she withstood a round of lengthy glances as Avery introduced them, ending with, “These are my parents, Laine and Connie Preston.”
Everyone smiled and stared at Avery expectantly.
“Oh, sorry, this is…um…” He glanced at her for help.