I opened my mouth, then paused just before I formed my own name. I swallowed heavily. “Lia Ward.”
Richard smiled. “It’s been a genuine pleasure to meet you, young lady.”
Another voice joined us, just as his big hand slid around my waist, settling easily on the bare skin where my dress gaped open.
“There you are,” Bauer said. He grinned widely when I slowly lifted an eyebrow. “Thought you got lost.”
Richard moved his eyes between us. “It’s my fault entirely. I’ve been monopolizing her. She’s quite intriguing.”
Bauer’s eyes touched briefly on my lips when he answered. “That’s one word I’d use.”
I felt my mouth open slightly. What was he doing? Lia had barely mentioned Bauer, except in passing, and always negatively, and he was staring at her lips—my lips—like he wanted to devour them in one bite.
“Bauer ‘the Hawk’ Davis,” Richard said, snapping his fingers together. “I knew I recognized you.”
Bauer’s face lit in surprise at his performance name. “Not many people do.”
“Shame what happened with Burton.”
The man currently holding my waist tensed slightly but nodded. “Indeed.”
“They’ll regret it someday, I have a feeling.”
Bauer’s eyes sharpened. “Not many people are this well-informed on the snowboarding scene.”
“I have a place in Vancouver, so I’m your neighbor to the south.” Richard held out his hand. “If you don’t make the next Olympics, I’ll riot.”
Hand still firmly in place along my back, Bauer smiled. I blinked at the sight of it. It was wide and bright and happy. This was the real him, talking about something he loved.
“Thank you.” He tilted his head. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Richard,” he answered. “I should be getting back in. Horrible small talk must be made, unfortunately.”
I smiled as did Bauer.
Richard glanced back and forth between us. “Keep hold of this one, Bauer. She’s a keeper.”
Neither of us answered, for entirely different reasons, but as Richard walked away, I took a cautious step away from Bauer. His hand slid off my back as I realized we were alone again. Just me and the wrong brother.
BAUER
If I was a hunter, pulling back on my bow, then Claire was the deer about to bolt into the safety of the trees.
Before she could move a single muscle to do exactly that, I nodded in the direction of the guy who just left.
“That was him, you know.”
She blinked rapidly. “Who was?”
“Richard.” I tucked my hands into my pants pockets. Maybe it would make me appear non-threatening or some bullshit. “That was him.”
“Yes, it was,” she answered slowly.
I grinned because she clearly thought I was an idiot. “No, that was the guy my mom has been eyeing. Or his money, rather.”
Claire’s face flushed a pretty pink. She wasn’t even trying to act like Lia now, and that felt like a small victory.
“That was Mr. Harper?”
Nodding slowly, I watched her expression change as she processed that.
“Oh.” Claire’s brow furrowed. “Well, I guess that makes it easier to meet him later.”
Under the lights of the hallway, her hair gleamed. Her cheeks were still pink, and she needed to touch up her lipstick after eating, but damn if I didn’t want to mess it up just a little bit more. It might have been crazy, but I got the feeling that Claire Ward didn’t like wearing that blood-red color.
“What’d you two talk about, princess? He seemed awfully smitten.”
Vaguely, she gestured to the photograph next to her, one of many lining the hallway. They were black and white, all boasting ridiculous price tags. The one in front of us was really depressing, if you asked me, but they’d certainly been staring at it like it was a freaking Van Gogh.
“That’s it?” I asked.
Claire chewed on her lip as she studied the image again. Ahh. She was nervous to answer.
Everything about this was strange, and inside the safety of my tux pockets, I found my thumb drumming a rapid beat against my thigh as I tried to figure this woman out.
Every woman, from the age of four to ninety-four, was a puzzle. Some were easier to put together, with better guides of what went where, and some were a bit tougher to assess. Honestly, I loved that about women. The beautiful variety of each one came in the pieces that you clicked into place.
And Claire, with her yellow dress and deep brown hair and blue eyes, was as intriguing of a puzzle as I’d seen in a long, long time.
The strains of music drifted out of the open doors of the ballroom into the hallway where we stood, and when I looked over my shoulder into the room I’d just left, a few couples started filling the dance floor, swaying in each other’s arms.
She was doing her best to ignore my presence entirely, or maybe she was that lost in thought. I approached slowly, sheathing whatever weapon that might spook her, giving her a small smile as I held my hand out.
“Dance with me?”
Claire’s chest fell and rose on an inhale as midnight eyes snapped to my face. “You want to?”
“Ouch.” My hand rubbed at the spot above my heart, and I saw her gaze flicker to the tattoos again. “Yes, even social reprobates like myself enjoy dancing with a beautiful woman.”
Even as the pink deepened on her high cheekbones, she was clearly undecided. Time to see if this first corner piece would click into place, or if I was completely off-base.
“Come on,” I said quietly, “the Lia Ward I know is fearless.”
Oh, no, she didn’t like that. Her eyes flashed like an impending lightning storm, and I felt the surge of electricity gather around me like a cloud.
Claire set her small purse down on a decorative table just next to the photo, slid her hand in mine, and stepped closer. But not quite close enough.
Bracketing her feet with my own, I slid my free hand around her waist and brought her flush against me. Just close enough to be improper, considering we were alone in the hallway.
If someone walked past, they would stare. They might gawk at the way I was holding her. And damn if I didn’t want them to.
I knew what they’d see, how they’d judge. The bad boy and the good girl, a strange pairing maybe, but if they saw us like this, swaying in a quiet hallway, they’d assume we were crazy for each other. That something about her had me obsessed. Something about me made her feel dangerous.
And maybe that was true, even if just for this one night.
In my arms, Claire Ward felt incredible. Her body was warm, her skin soft, and she smelled like oranges.
But she was holding herself a little stiffly, so I backed off just a couple of inches as I gently led her in a slow circle. When I directed her in a slow turn out and spin, she smiled.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.