His Name Is Sir (The Power to Please #3) (20 page)

Chapter 11

I had loads to catch up on at work the next day, plus I spent a considerable amount of time in Isabel’s office giving her my glowing report of everything I had seen and heard at Roundtree Holdings. I was glad to be busy. It kept my nerves in check.

I had hoped to take a short nap before getting ready for my date, but I didn’t make it home until nearly seven o’clock, thanks to working late. No nap for me. I probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.

By eight-thirty, I was primped, packed and prepared for Gibson. He didn’t keep me waiting, buzzing up exactly on time.

I didn’t want him recalling our last meeting in my apartment, so I was standing in the hall with my overnight bag when he came around the corner. He looked devastatingly handsome in a lightweight summer sport coat and dark slacks. His hair was pushed back away from his forehead, as usual, and as usual, I wanted to muss it up some.

He smiled, gave me long admiring look up and down, then said, “You’re stunning.”

I said, “So are you.”

He leaned toward me and I caught his scent, and a whiff of the outdoors. He took my small case from my hand and asked, “Since you’re out here, I’m guessing you’re ready to go?”

I nodded, quickly checked my door to make sure it was locked, then we walked in silence to his car. I looked at the car and was speechless for a long minute at least.

Finally, I asked, “What is it?”

Gibson asked, “Do you like it?”

I gave him a “you have lost your mind” look, and said, “It’s the most beautiful car I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?”

“Seriously. What’s it called?”

He headed for the rear of the car and said, “Vanquish.”

While he put my bag in the trunk I admired the car. It was a spectacular bronze color that glowed under the streetlights. The lines of the body were unlike anything I was used to seeing.

Gibson opened the passenger door for me.

I said, “Are you actually driving tonight?”

He said, “I have no choice since not even your tiny self could fit in this back seat.”

I slipped into the buttery leather seats. Heaven. Breathed in the scent of new car and leather and masculinity. Savored the sound of the engine when Gibson pulled out of our parking spot and into the street.

I enjoyed the ride, the feel of the thing, the way it moved over the road, watching Gibson’s hands on the wheel, appreciating his pleased expression.

Finally, I asked, “Why don’t you drive this car every day?”

He answered, “I’d hate to deprive my driver of a good job. And most days, I work during my travel time. It’s hard to type on a laptop when you’re driving.”

“Well, as someone who has seen people typing on laptops while driving, I’m grateful that you restrain yourself. Hey, it just occurred to me. Don’t you need directions?”

“GPS. I called the Hoytes and asked for their address.”

“Oh really? That’s interesting.”

“Why?”

“You could have called and asked me.”

He gave me a little sideways glance then said, “True, but if I had called you and heard your voice, and thought about how you might be looking, what you might be doing, I never could have waited until tonight to see you.”

“Oh. That’s okay then.”

“I’m glad you’re fine with it.”

I wanted to tell him to forget about the party at the Hoytes’ house, but I had texted Elaine the night before and told her I was bringing Gibson, so I couldn’t just not show up. I made a promise to myself that we would only stay long enough to avoid obvious rudeness.

We stuck to less titillating topics for the rest of the trip. Gibson found the address with no trouble, though we were both surprised at all the cars lining their long drive and out onto the curbs of the street. Happily for me and my feet, the Hoytes had arranged for valet parking.

Gibson didn’t blink when he handed his keys to a teenager who was practically drooling over the car. I wouldn’t have given that kid the keys, if it had been up to me.

The Hoytes lived in a huge Tudor style home in a wealthy area of the city, with more than enough room for them, their two grown children, their children’s future spouses, and a swarm of future grandchildren. I didn’t think the Tudor style much suited the Hoytes’ homey personalities, but the inside was pure Hoyte style, eclectic to the extreme, what I could make out of it.

The entryway and other ground floor rooms were teeming with people. I would have guessed easily fifty-sixty guests were milling around in this area alone, and any number of staff added to the melee, trying to deliver drinks and snacks to the crowd.

The smells from the party trays mingled with the alcohol and the combined force of too many people crammed into too small a space. Between that, the noise of everyone talking and the chipper country music playing over the speakers, I was sent into sensory overload.

Gibson and I worked our way through the crowd, seeking out our hosts. I saw a few people I recognized from other outings with the Hoytes and made a few hellos. Gibson nodded at several people.

It took a full five minutes before we found Elaine, who was stepping out of the kitchen. She greeted us in a flurry of hugs and apologies for not being at her welcoming station at the door. She said the caterers were giving her grief and not getting the food out fast enough, so she was forced to keep them on their toes, as she put it.

Ron arrived a moment later, and there were more hugs and apologies, and so forth. While Ron and Gibson exchanged a few words, Elaine pulled me to the side.

She kept her voice as low as she could and still be heard. “There are too many people here. Ron told everyone to bring whoever they wanted, and that would have been fine if they had just brought one, like you. But some of these fools brought four and five people with them. We’re going to run out of food and booze.”

“Can I help? I can pitch in. We could go get more supplies.”

She snorted. “I appreciate the offer, but more supplies is the last thing I need. The only way we’ll get rid of some of these people is if we run dry.”

I grinned. “I can help some other way.”

She patted my arm. “Thank you, honey, but no. Nothing to do. Except, you might try to convince me not to shoot my husband for handing out invitations willy nilly and puttin’ me in this mess.”

“I think you’ve given me an impossible task.”

She glowered. “I have.”

I glanced over at Gibson and Ron who had been joined in conversation by a pair of other men who I didn’t recognize. Ron was talking animatedly, and soon was ushering the men out of the room. Gibson sent me a small smile and a shrug before he left.

Elaine gave me a hard look. “Listen, honey, I think you should take your man and head on out of here while you can.”

I asked, “Why?”

“I’m guessing you haven’t seen him. I set him up with some folks in the back hall, hoping that’d keep him out of the way until you came.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Michael Weston. He’s here. I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t invite him. He came with other people.”

“Well. Damn. I didn’t expect that.”

“Of course you didn’t. I’m going to kill Ron, I swear.”

“It’s not his fault. But you’re right, I’d rather avoid Michael. Especially since I’m here with Gibson.”

Elaine pulled me into a corner. “Is it serious between you and Gibson?”

“I don’t know. I think it could be. Maybe.”

She chuckled. “That’s clear as mud.”

“I know. Elaine, you told me once that there are two sides to every story. You were right. About Michael’s story.”

She shrugged. “That’s how it usually goes.”

I said, “I can’t go into details, but pretty much everything Michael told us was untrue. I was completely wrong about Gibson, and Michael. I trusted the wrong person. I shouldn’t have been so gullible.”

“Aw, honey. Don’t blame yourself. I sure as hell am not gullible, and even I didn’t know what to believe.”

“Well, anyway, I don’t want Gibson and Michael to meet here, so I’m just going to get Gibson and leave.”

Elaine glanced around. “Looks like you’re goin’ to have to find him first.”

“Ron dragged him off with some other men.”

Elaine said, “He probably wants to show off his guns. We’ll go find them.”

We only took two steps before the door to the kitchen swung open and a frazzled-looking woman rushed up to Elaine.

She grabbed Elaine’s arm, “That boy you hired dropped all the pâté on the floor. Idiot! We’ve got to come up with something else to serve. You have to show me what you have so I can ...”

Elaine held a finger up in front of the woman’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I’ll be there in a minute. You handle it. Look in my cupboards, in the fridge. Think for yourself.”

The woman huffed and stomped back off into the kitchen.

I said, “Go on, Elaine. I can find Gibson on my own. It’ll be fine.”

“Oh, honey, what a mess, huh?”

I shrugged and smiled. “You’re just too popular and likable. You have too many friends.”

She snorted. “You mean Ron has too many friends, or should I say, moocher friends of friends. Anyway, I’m sure Ron’s taken Gibson off to look at his guns. No man enters this house without seeing Ron’s gun collection.”

She pointed to a door and told me to leave that way and gave me directions to Ron’s study. I told her thanks and goodbye, then headed off to find Gibson.

I moved into a hallway that was filled with people. I turned to the right and pushed and shoved until I thought I was approaching the right room. It was slow-going, with so many bodies clustered around.

When a hand closed around my upper arm, I didn’t even look to see who it was. I simply called out, “Sorry!” and kept moving.

The hand didn’t let go. In fact it was pulling me toward the wall. I spun to see who had hold of me.

It was Michael. Hell.

He pressed me up against the wall and smiled down at me. It wasn’t a friendly smile. Instead of being neatly tucked behind his ears, his long hair uncharacteristically hung around his face. His jaw was clenched tight and his brow was knitted.

For a handsome man, he looked distinctly unattractive at the moment.

I hissed, “Let go of my arm.”

He said, “I came tonight because I thought you’d be here. I was so happy when you arrived. Then I saw who you were with.”

“Back off, Michael. Who I’m with is none of your business.”

“You didn’t have to come with him to get my attention, you know.”

“What?”

“Obviously you’re using him to get to me. It’s not necessary. You should know that I still want you.”

I couldn’t believe his gall. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“Sure you didn’t. Or maybe you’re using him for revenge ... again.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I yanked on my arm, but he held me firm. I was sick of this new habit he had of thinking it was okay to grab me. “I’m with Gibson because I want to be with him. If I had known you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come.”

He leaned down close to my ear. “I’m tired of these games, Sweet. It’s time to end it.”

“I did end it. When I broke up with you.”

“You don’t really want to be with a cold fish like my cousin.”

“That’s it. I’m done. Let go of me now, or I’ll scream.”

He said, “You won’t scream. If you do, Gibson will hear.”

He was right. I wasn’t going to admit it, though. I said, “Michael, you and I are through. Finished. I like Gibson, and if I want to be with him, or any other man, I will. You and I aren’t together, and won’t be, ever again. I can’t be any clearer about this.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “The man robbed me and my family out of what was rightfully ours. You could have moved on with anyone, but you picked him. My enemy. That speaks volumes to me.”

I said, “It shouldn’t. Anyway, it’s my understanding that you’ve been fully compensated by Gibson, and then some.”

His rough expression flickered for a moment, and his hand briefly loosened its grip on my arm. He said, “So Gibson’s been telling tales. Did you think that maybe I was forced into that compensation, by circumstances?”

“No. I didn’t. And I don’t.”

Michael’s face fell and he suddenly appeared contrite and wounded at the same time. I wasn’t buying either one.

He said, “He’s brainwashed you.”

His hand had loosened more. I twisted and yanked my arm out of his hold. I said, “That’s not true. Get over it.”

He said, “I can’t.”

“If I had come in here with anyone else, you wouldn’t be acting this way. It’s because it’s Gibson.”

“No. Or, yes, some of that’s true. But not completely. I still want you, Sweet.”

“But I don’t want you.”

And I pushed past him and shoved myself back into the flow of the partygoers. He didn’t grab me again, and I didn’t look behind me to see if he was following me. I wanted to find Gibson and get out of there before anything worse happened.