Chapter 19 #2
“She certainly does.” Robyn’s voice is even. “Excuse me a moment, would you?”
She turns toward me, and her eyes meet mine for the first time since Cassia started in on me.
“I’m going to find the bathroom,” she says under her breath. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will, but I’ll walk you over there anyway.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come inside with me as well?”
I half smile. “No, I think you’ll manage.”
We do the polite goodbye to the couple, and I walk her to the bathroom door. I post myself outside it with my back to the wall and my eyes on the room. She’s in there for less than three minutes, and when she comes out, the lipstick is fresh, and the smile is back in place. We rejoin the crowd.
The next hour is more of the same. By now, what’s left of her champagne is warm, but she declines when I offer her a fresh glass.
A hand lands on my forearm.
“There you are.” Cassia’s voice is soft. She’s appeared at my side again. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Mrs. Holt.”
“It’s Ms.”
“Ms. Holt.” I keep my voice even. “You should be enjoying the party.”
“I am.” She tilts her head at me. “I’m just having trouble finding interesting conversation.”
“That can’t be true in a room full of intellectuals.”
Then she laughs, and two males nearby look over.
“Charming and dismissive. That’s a new one for me.”
“I’m sure it is.” I smile at her, not wanting to appear too cold. I have to be the perfect date, which means remaining polite.
“You didn’t commit to our dance later. Are you in or out?”
I’m not sure she’s referring to dancing.
I need to play the game. Ms. Holt is a donor.
“A dance sounds great. It’s—”
She groans. “I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere. Don’t be so boring.”
“I am boring and not much of a dancer.”
“I doubt that very much.” She touches my arm. “I can tell.” She licks her lips. “We’d have fun.”
“I have no doubt. I’m here with Robyn. I like her very much, and I would hate to hurt her.”
“She would never find out.”
“I would know.”
“So, chivalry isn’t dead, after all. You’re a keeper, Ridge. Such a pity.”
“Have a good evening, Ms. Holt.”
“I will.”
She holds my eye for one more breath, then a smile blooms on her face, and she drifts off again. I watch her go. She slides into a circle by the bar and starts laughing at something a male is saying, her hand on his sleeve.
I turn back to find Robyn, and she isn’t there.
The space at my elbow where she had been thirty seconds ago is filled instead by the canapé waiter. The small group has broken up. I do a slow sweep of the room, but I can’t find her.
My dragon comes to attention so fast I feel my vision hone. I keep my expression flat as I move, looking everywhere for her as I do.
My heart rate is picking up when I finally catch a flash of green at the far end of the room.
Thank fuck!
I push my way through a couple, put my warm beer down on a passing tray, and start across the room toward her.
She’s standing near one of the tall windows that look out over the gardens.
I stop dead about ten feet away.
She finally took off the wrap, and her dress is strapless.
Her shoulders are bare. There’s a delicate silver chain looped around her neck, and the pendant sits in the dip between her collarbones.
And her chest.
Holy fucking hell.
Robyn’s breasts are fucking beautiful. The night I took her home, I spent more time on them than was strictly necessary.
They’re full, soft, and so damned heavy.
They fit in my hands like they were made just for me.
Tonight, the bodice of that dress is cut low but not overly so. It’s tasteful. It’s elegant.
It’s also devastating.
I stand there for a few moments like I’ve been hit with a cleaver between the eyes.
Then I notice that there’s a male with her.
He’s well-built, with hints of salt and pepper at the temples.
He’s in a tuxedo. He’s smiling down at her.
One hand is in his pocket. The other is around the stem of a wine glass that he hasn’t lifted in a while.
His attention is on her face, and then it dips down for one second and comes back up to her face.
He’s looking.
I can’t really blame him, but I want to pluck his eyeballs out for it, anyway.
He says something, and Robyn laughs. It isn’t the polite laugh she’s been doling out all night. It’s an actual laugh. Her shoulders move with it. Her head tips back a fraction, and her hand comes up to her chest in a small reflex.
He touches her arm. Just above the elbow. It’s light and friendly. His eyes dip again for half a second, and the touch lingers.
He wants to fuck her.
I see green.
The hot, ugly kind. It rolls up through my chest and into the back of my throat, and I feel my dragon flex along my ribs with a force that makes my jaw tighten in order to lock him down.
Shit!
I have no right to feel this way.
She isn’t mine.
She laughs again when he whispers something in her ear.
Fuck that!
She’s my date. We agreed in the car that everyone here was to believe it.
I’m going after her.