Chapter 5 #2
Their eyes met and held, and for a few pulsing minutes, they were oblivious to the other couples whirling around them.
Time seemed to stand still, and their awareness of each other was so sharp, so intense, that it held them enthralled.
His eyes drifted to her lips and had Indigo holding her breath as she wondered if he was going to kiss her.
Just then, someone jostled them, breaking the spell, and the music ended.
Shaking his head as if to dispel the intimacy, Brant led her off the dance floor and left her in the company of some of the other wives.
For the remainder of the evening, he avoided her and did not ask her to dance again.
Pretending that her heart was not sinking in despair, Indigo listened, or tried to listen, attentively to the wives she had been introduced to, including Monique Romano, who gushed over how the dress fit her as if it had been made exclusively for her.
She was embraced and welcomed by Leesa, Kelly, and a few others, including Althea and Stacey.
The women made her feel at home, and immediately, invitations to functions were issued.
She participated in the conversation and even laughed at the jokes, but her eyes were on her husband.
The twisted feeling inside her chest, she acknowledged as jealousy when she saw him dancing with several women, all of them beautiful and slender.
To hell with him! she decided after standing there, feeling the hopelessness washing through her body.
They had shared a damn moment; she was sure of it.
And if he refused to acknowledge that they had shared a moment, then she would ignore it as well and pretend it didn't happen.
And two could play the game. Pasting a dazzling smile on her lips, she finally accepted the next guy's invitation to go on the dance floor.
Brant could not account for the fact that when he saw Reginald Lowe dancing with her, his arms wrapped around her waist, he wanted to plow his fist into the man's laughing face.
After all, he was the one who had left her in the company of the other wives, and in all fairness, he had been dancing with other women, some of whom he had been involved with in the past.
He was acting irrationally and unfairly but did not know how to do otherwise. What he was feeling since she descended the stairs at home was twisting him up inside and making him confused and damned ornery.
And he had switched to the hard stuff, which meant he was going to have to drink some coffee or let Indigo drive his car.
"If you keep staring at her like that, you're going to have to get a room. As it so happens, your family owns more than half of the hotel, which shouldn't be a problem for you. Perhaps you should request the honeymoon suite. After all, from what I hear, you're newlyweds."
He tore his gaze from the couple on the dance floor to glower at a grinning Jackson Colby. The man was leaning indolently on the counter of the bar, his white tuxedo shirt open at the front and his tie missing.
"Go away," Brant growled.
"Not a chance. I love me a good story, and when I heard that the man I think of as my friend, that he had gotten married to some woman I don't know, I had to see for myself. And wonder at the haste and why the hell wasn't I invited."
"It was a private ceremony. What are you doing here? Last I heard, you were in Italy."
"Came back this afternoon, and instead of trying to get some much-needed rest as I originally suggested, my darling Jerri dragged me out of the house. That woman will be the death of me." The words were contrary to the lovesick expression on the man's face whenever he mentioned his wife's name.
"You could have said no," Brant pointed out.
"To Jerri? No, my friend, one does not say no to a woman like her. Besides, I'm actually glad I came." He took a sip of his champagne and eyed the other man over the rim. "Why are you allowing other men to dance with your lovely wife?"
"She's a free agent."
"If that's the case, why do you look as if you're about to march out there and wipe the floor with poor Jason?"
"She's free to do as she pleases," he muttered into his glass and was about to take a sip when he noticed that 'poor Jason's' hand was riding his wife's buttocks. With a snarl, he shoved the glass at Jackson and marched onto the dance floor.
Lifting his own glass in a toast, Jackson watched the scene unfold, shaking his head when Jason released Indigo with undue haste. "Good for you, my friend," Jackson murmured with a chuckle and went to find his own wife.
The journey home was done in complete silence.
Indigo was fuming at the high-handed way he cut in on the dance and bluntly told her partner to get lost. Then he coldly told her that it was time they were leaving.
Without waiting for her to say goodbye to the friends she had just made, he took her arm and practically dragged her out of the room.
And now his face looked like a thundercloud, when it was she who should be offended.
He had ignored her the entire night and danced with women who did not seem to care about his marital status because they were draped all over him.
And just because Jason had gotten a little handsy, something she could have damned well dealt with herself, he had overreacted.
The fact that she had never seen him angry before sent shivers racing up and down her spine.
She did not dare hope that he was angry because he was jealous and had not wanted another man touching her.
Because that would mean what, exactly? Biting back a sigh, she sat up when he turned into the private driveway leading to the townhouse and brought the vehicle to a stop. Shoving the door open, he marched around to yank open the passenger side and waited for her to alight.
Without a word, he marched up to the front door and unlocked it.
She had shrugged out of her coat before she realized that he had walked past her and was making his way toward the staircase.
"That's it?" She caught up with him just as he mounted the steps. "You're not going to speak to me?"
"I don't want to say something I will regret in the morning," he told her tightly. Turning around, he mounted the rest of the steps with her following behind him.
"You're upset because I was dancing with Jason."
"Your powers of observation are admirable." The sarcasm in his voice could not be ignored.
"And you're a hypocrite." She clamped her hand on his arm just as he was about to turn toward his suite. "You danced with me once. And then you practically shoved me toward your friends' wives. Not to mention the fact that you were dancing with all those women."
"Who happened to be friends of mine," he said tightly, golden eyes glittering. "You just met the guy, and you stood there and allowed him to have his hands all over you."
"I was about to tell him to-"
"What? Procure a room upstairs to finish what he started on the dance floor?"
She stepped back as if he had slapped her. Brant could not believe the way he was behaving. He had seen the bastard's hands on her naked flesh and felt the red haze washing over him. "Look, I'm-"
"Go to hell!" she whispered. Before he could react, she had rushed toward her suite and slammed the doors shut behind her. He heard when the lock slid into place, making it impossible for him to go after her. Striding toward the locked doors, he lifted his fist and hammered on the solid oak.
"Indigo, please open the door." He waited a minute, and when there was no response, he knocked again, this time louder. "Dammit, just let me explain."
When she still did not respond, he stood there for a minute before turning on his heel and walking to his own suite. Slamming the doors shut, he just resisted the urge to slide the lock, just as she had done. He hadn't meant the nasty remark; it had just popped out of his mouth.
He had behaved irrationally, and it had to do with the fact that he had started to feel something for her.
Yanking off the jacket, he tossed the cashmere carelessly over the tan leather sofa in front of the fireplace.
Sitting on the side of the bed, he took off his boots and rose to finish taking off his clothes.
He had been able to ignore the eagerness to come home to her and to hear her voice.
He had chalked it down to being starved of female companionship.
Dragging on an old pair of sweats, he walked over to the cabinet to pour himself a drink.
Taking it back with him, he sat on the chair and moodily watched as the blaze from the fire smoldered and simmered.
Tonight, seeing her descend the stairs and looking like a very provocative and curvaceous angel had triggered a desire inside him that had only increased on the ride to the function.
The minute he had held her in his arms for that one dance, the feelings had taken on an intensity that staggered him.
It had to be lust and a combination of being without a woman for longer than he had ever experienced. That was the simple explanation. His flesh was starved. He could go out of town and hook up with someone from his past, someone who would have the understanding that it would have to be discreet.
Tossing back the drink, he grimaced at how distasteful the very thought was to him.
It was not a real marriage, but he had every intention of honoring his vows.
And strangely, the idea of taking another woman to bed was not something he was interested in.
With a resigned sigh, he poured himself another glass and prepared for a very long night.