Good with His Hands (13 page)

There.
Her heart stuttered. Nope, that wasn't him. Even from across the dining room, she realized she was looking at Bryce. Aside from superficial differences like the kinds of clothes they wore or the way they styled their hair, the two men carried themselves differently. She was surprised they were both in attendance. Sean had given her the impression they didn't run in the same circles.

She went back to searching the room. Once she spotted him for real, looking devastatingly sexy in a black suit and white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, it occurred to her she would have found him more quickly if she'd simply looked for a throng of females instead of a lone man. He was surrounded by no fewer than four women, including Lydia Reynolds and a blonde with unnaturally full lips who stood very close and had a hand on his arm. Dani blinked. Was he here with a
date
?

Well, really, what had she thought—that he'd wait for her forever?
You told him you didn't want to see him again and that there was no chance you'd change your mind.
Apparently, of the two of them, Sean wasn't the only liar.

After watching the blonde in the bandage dress lead Sean to a table, Dani had made it a point to stop staring. Instead, she focused her attention on dessert, stabbing it rather savagely.

Face propped on her hand, Meg peered at her with concern. “Did that tiramisu do something to you personally?” she asked, stumbling a bit over the last word.

“Sorry.” Dani pushed away the plate. “I think I've hit my quota on fun. Instead of staying for the dancing, how about we go home and get started on our movie marathon?”

“'Kay.”

This was good. Go home, change into comfy clothes, try again to get Meg to eat.
And avoid watching Sean dance with a hot blonde date?
Okay, that was a perk, too.

As the DJ in the corner kicked off the after-dinner party with a Beach Boys tune, Dani made sure she and Meg both had their purses and cell phones. They bid their table companions goodbye and headed for the dining room exit, but they weren't quite fast enough to make a clean getaway.

“Danica?”

At the sound of Tate's voice, she squeezed her eyes shut.
Just kill me now.
She didn't want to make a scene by being rude to him, but she was feeling too drained to stand around making small talk. Maybe she could keep walking and pretend she hadn't heard him over the music and background party noise?

But Meg stopped dead in her tracks, whirling around. “Ooh! It's about time I gave him a piece of my mind for how he treated you.”

As potentially entertaining as that would be to watch, especially given Meg's incongruous use of words like heck and darn, Dani shook her head. “Absolutely not. He isn't worth it.”

Meanwhile, Tate was catching up to them. He flashed Dani a smarmy game-show host smile. “That
is
you. I'm so glad to see you out and about.”

As opposed to what, sobbing quietly in her room while clutching a photo album of the two of them?

“And you look really good.” He managed to make it more condescension than compliment. “You weren't leaving already, were you? It's still early.”

“Not a chance,” Meg said, pronouncing it
shance
. “We're...only goin' to powder our noses. Then we're gonna dance! With a whole bunch of men.”

Tate spared her a withering glance before turning back to Dani. “Well, I suppose that's the benefit of bringing your little friend here as your date. You're available to—”

“Dani.” A deep, familiar voice interrupted.

They all three turned, with varying degrees of surprise, to see Sean strolling up to them. He held a hand out toward her. “Care to dance?”

“If you don't,
I'm
taking him,” Meg warned in an unsubtle whisper.

Stay here, on the receiving end of Tate's sham concern, or spend time in the arms of the sexiest guy in the room? No contest.

Dani curled her fingers through Sean's, a delighted zing shooting through her at the physical contact. “Lead the way.”

 

11

N
ODDING
POLITELY
TO
indicate that he was listening, Bryce Grayson surreptitiously checked his watch. He'd been dying to leave since before dinner, but his boss's wife was on the event committee. Seizing the first opportunity to bolt didn't seem like a good career move.

Then again, if he had bolted, he wouldn't be stuck listening to Dr. Hargrove, a local cardiologist, tell the same golf story Bryce had already heard twice this month. This was only marginally a step up from the dinner conversation, which had included a divorcée unsubtly hinting that Bryce should introduce her to Sean—
not likely
—and a namedropping couple who'd apparently met every Important Person who'd ever passed through the Atlanta area. By the time Bryce had finished dinner, he'd had a headache. The dance music wasn't helping.

Neither was the knowledge that Sean was in the ballroom. Bryce was unaccustomed to moving in the same social circles as his twin. Did others notice that he hadn't approached his own brother all night? Bryce had started to, but what was the point? His last two exchanges with Sean had become hostile pretty quickly. While he hoped Sean would be more diplomatic in a public setting, he wasn't willing to take the risk.

When the doctor finally reached the conclusion of his story, Bryce offered what might have been his first genuine smile in hours. “So good to see you again, but I think I'm going to head home. Long week at the office,” he added, trying to look fatigued rather than exuberant about his impending escape.

Bryce had only taken a few steps toward the door, however, when his brother's ex-girlfriend suddenly inserted herself in his path. “Tara.” He nodded in greeting. “I understand you're on the committee for this event. Job well done.”

“Thank you, but I'm afraid we're headed into fiasco territory. Ride to my rescue?”

Not if it involved anything like appearing publicly in an outfit as ridiculous as what Sean had worn. “What do you need?” he asked cautiously.

“Someone to run interference. The committee members worked their tails off to make this a perfect night, and I don't want it ruined by tacky people making a scene.” She gestured toward the side of the dance floor. Two women and a man were involved in a heated conversation that appeared to be escalating. “I'd take care of it myself but I have to prevent another social disaster. Judge Waylan's wife
and
his girlfriend just headed toward the ladies' lounge.”

Getting involved in the business of strangers wasn't exactly in Bryce's comfort zone. “You sure you don't want to delegate this to one of your committee members?” he hedged.

“And throw more estrogen on the fires of a potential chick fight? No.” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Besides, you've always had such an authoritative air about you.”

Was he misreading the purr in her voice? The idea of his twin's ex hitting on him was distasteful enough to propel him toward the altercation brewing by the dance floor. “All right, I'm on it.” He'd see what he could do to stem brewing trouble, and then he was definitely leaving.

Ahead of him, a woman with curly red-gold hair was angrily addressing a short man, poking him in the chest with her finger. A second woman clutched his arm, making rebuttals in a heavy accent.

Bryce cleared his throat. “Is there a problem here, folks?”

The man in the tableau looked embarrassed to have a witness. “No problem, just, um, catching up with—” he eyed the curly-haired spitfire in the lacy black dress “—an old friend.”

“Friend?”
The woman on his arm sneered. “She is a drunken lunatic!”

The alleged lunatic balled her hands into fists at her sides. “Why you—”

“Excuse me, miss.” Bryce interjected himself between the two females. Other than create a physical barrier, he wasn't sure what to do. The sudden change from one song to another inspired him. “Would you like to dance?”

Waving away the couple with a hand behind his back, he focused on distracting the woman with the wide brown eyes and red-gold hair. Now that he got a better look at her, he noticed that she had a creamy, porcelain complexion and the face of an angel. Ironic, given what he'd witnessed of her temperament.

She met his gaze, seeming bewildered. “Whoa. I'm seeing double.”

“Have you had a lot to drink?” Maybe he needed to get her to a chair.

She paused as if taking a mental tally, then shrugged. “Irrelevant.”

“Not if you're having double vision,” he said gently.

“I see two of you because there are two of you.” She gripped his shoulders and turned him toward the dance floor, pointing.

Following the direction she indicated, he spotted Sean in the crowd. “Oh. Right. We're twins.”

She gave him a look of exaggerated patience. “Duh. You're the Bryce one, right?”

This was the strangest conversation he'd had all night, but at least it wasn't boring. “Yeah. I'm the Bryce one. And who might you be?”

“Meg.”

“Could I interest you in a cup of coffee?” he offered. “Maybe some dessert to go with it?” He figured adding chocolate as an enticement sounded kinder than admitting he was trying to sober her up.

“Dessert.” She sighed wistfully. Suddenly, she reached for him, moving much faster than he'd expected for a woman who was swaying slightly, and pressed his hand to her lace-covered hip. “What do you think? Too plump?”

“I... What?”

“I need a man's opinion.” For a moment, the expression in her doe eyes got less vague. “You are a man.”

He didn't know if it was the undercurrent of appreciation in her voice or the soft, full curve of her beneath his fingers that sent a rush of heat through him. He did, however, know that it was inappropriate to be groping a stranger.

“Do my hips inherently fill men's heads with thoughts of babies?” she demanded.

Thoughts of how babies were made, perhaps.

“Um...no?” He tugged his hand away, trying to regain his composure. He'd done his job of averting a scene. He was free to go now. But he was troubled by the trace of sadness in her gaze. He realized he wanted, quite badly, to see her smile. “Nice dress.” It was unlike anyone else's.

“You should see my underwear,” she said absently. The bizarre statement was matter-of-fact, no whisper of come-on in her voice.

He had no idea how he was supposed to respond, which was just as well, since he couldn't find his voice anyway.

Standing on her tiptoes, she peered around him, tottering on her high heels. Bryce's hands came up automatically to steady her. Maybe he should stay close to her. In case she needed help.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Tate got away before I got a chance to tell him he's an excrement head.”

His lips twitched. “Interesting way of putting it.”

“I don't swear. It's a rule.” She lifted her chin. Her imperious expression was surprisingly effective, given that she didn't even reach his shoulder and she was wobbling. “People need to respect the rules.”

He nodded. “I myself am a firm believer in them.”

That earned him the smile he'd wanted. Her lips curved in an approving grin, making her eyes twinkle. The way she looked at him, he suddenly felt a foot taller.

“Rule follower, huh? I...” She blinked as if she'd forgotten what she was going to say. Then she yawned, and it occurred to him that someone should probably take her home.

“Did you come here with someone tonight?” he asked. Even as he voiced the question, he sincerely hoped the answer was no. In fact, he so badly wanted her to be here without a date that it startled him. Since when was he attracted to unpredictable strawberry blondes who made muttered comments about underwear?

“Came with my friend,” she said sleepily. Once again, she gestured toward the dance floor. “Danica.”

Crap. “Danica Yates?” He frowned, wondering how much it would count against him that Ms. Yates disliked him. Although, upon second glance, he realized Danica was the woman dancing with Sean. Had the real-estate agent reversed her ruling on Grayson men?

“Danica is my best friend,” Meg said, her angelic face crinkling into a fierce scowl. She pressed a palm to her forehead. “And you're just... I shouldn't even be talking to you.”

“Wait, I—”

“No, I think I need to get home,” she said in a moment of clarity. She headed toward the dance floor, presumably to let her ride know it was time to leave. Then she paused, giving him one last sleepy smile over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Hot Architect.”

She knew he was an architect? He was surprised Danica had bothered mentioning it. Then the rest of what she'd said clicked, prompting a grin.
She thinks I'm hot?

* * *

U
NSURE
WHAT
TO
say to Sean—and biting back the question
Is that skinny blonde I saw you with your date?
—Dani had followed him silently to the dance floor. The loud music provided a convenient excuse not to talk. For the first few measures of the song, she simply gave into the impulse to melt against him and enjoy the moment.

But he had questions of his own. “You were really going to marry that guy? He seems like a putz.”

Too true. She sighed. “He wasn't always so self-important. I think getting promoted and Ella falling for him went to his head.” It was probably for the best Sean had interrupted when he had, before Dani was provoked into cutting Tate and his ego down to size. A petty part of her had enjoyed Tate's expression—and how he'd had to crane his neck to look up at Sean—when his “poor Dani” act had been interrupted. “I'm glad you ran into me when you did.”

“It wasn't coincidental. I asked Lydia Reynolds if she knew where you'd gone, and she said you'd been cornered by your cretin ex.”

“You knew I was here?” she asked softly. The few times she'd glanced his direction, he'd been busy with admirers.

He nodded. “I heard you laugh during the fashion show. You're a saint, by the way, not to have mentioned those damn fins yet.”

“Now I'm worried I have an obnoxiously distinct laugh,” she joked. “How else could you have recognized it over the music and noise of the crowd?”

His gaze held hers. “I think I could pick you out of a hundred voices or a thousand faces. Dani, I...”

Her breath caught in her lungs, and she swayed even closer to him. Hunger lit his gaze, and an answering hunger surged to life inside her. He stared at her mouth, and a tingly sensation spread from her lips, in anticipation of his kiss, to other parts of her body, lower and stronger until she found herself shifting restlessly, trying in vain to alleviate the ache.

With a muffled groan, he cupped the back of her head. “If you can't forgive what I did, tell me right now. I'll walk away, and that will be the end of it. Otherwise—”

“I can,” she blurted, her voice unrecognizably breathy as she tightened her grip on him. “I forgive you.”

He brushed his tongue over the seam of her lips, then into her mouth with a boldness that reminded her of the way he made love—confident and skilled, so adept at knowing what she liked that she wanted it to go on forever. Maybe it would have, if they hadn't backed into the couple next to them.
We can't do this here.
They should go to her apartment and—

Oh, Lord, she'd completely forgotten about her temporary roommate.

Breaking off the kiss, she glanced around. “I am a terrible friend. I have to find Meg. She had several of those Hang Tens on an empty stomach. I mean, she's fine as long as she's not driving, but I should probably discourage her from drinking any more of them.”

“That's being a caring, concerned friend.” He tapped her nose lightly. “You're not terrible at all.” From his elevated vantage point, he scanned the room. “There she is.”

He caught her hand in his, the simple act filling her with joy. On their first date, they'd pretty much gone from verbal foreplay to energetic sex. They'd skipped the smaller, yet surprisingly poignant, milestones.

Meg was weaving her way toward them. “Dani? Not to interrupt, but I think I'm go to ready.”

Dani draped an arm around her friend's shoulders. “Or, loosely translated, ready to go?”

“That, too.”

“Why don't I walk you ladies out to your car?” Sean volunteered.

Meg stuck her hand out in the apparently sudden realization that they'd never officially met. “I'm Meg Rafferty, Dani's best friend in the world. And if you ever make her cry again? I have more than enough siblings to provide me an alibi
and
help hide the body.”

He flinched. His gaze darting back to Dani. “You cried over me?”

“Um...no comment.” Dani had grown up never quite comfortable sharing her more sensitive moments with the Major. As an adult, she preferred to keep that side of herself hidden.

Dani and Sean each gave their vehicle tickets to the man at the valet stand. They stood on either side of Meg while they waited, in case she needed the physical support.

Over the top of Meg's head, Sean gave her a look of such fierce anticipation that it warmed her to her toes. “How soon can I see you again? A guy on my crew is having a birthday party tomorrow, but I'm free Monday night.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “I have some evening showings for a client who has trouble getting away during the day. Tuesday?”

His face fell. “I'm supposed to— You can come with me,” he interrupted himself. “My parents came back from Hawaii with a ton of pictures, but the last time I went over to look at them, Dad fell asleep midway through. According to Mom, we still have one hundred and forty seven to go. In the interest of full disclosure, Bryce might be there, too.”