Yours to Savor (28 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Sandra felt every eye on her as she walked through the bustling hotel lobby. Brandon had encouraged her to wear a yellow dress bright enough to match his car, and between his persuasive kisses, she’d been unable to resist. Coupled with the three-inch stilettos that made her hips sway and threatened to punish her with a fall if she took one wrong step, well, of course she would stand out.

But she wouldn’t have traded this moment for the world, all because of the man whose arm she hung on to.

Brandon had adopted that powerful, confident gait as he walked, head up and shoulders back. In his formal black slacks, ostrich leather shoes, thin black blazer, and a shirt of the palest green that complemented his eyes,
he
easily drew the eye of every woman in the room. The natural swing of his wide shoulders made people bustle to get out of his way, and Sandra found an unexpected thrill at that reaction. Cutting through the crowd in front of the doors was as easy as slicing a hot knife through butter, and Sandra did her best to match the projection of confidence that Brandon exuded.

“Is this how people
always
react to you?” Sandra asked as they waited for the valet to bring Brandon’s car around.

“Not always,” Brandon noted. “Only when I have someone as beautiful as you beside me.”

Sandra blushed at the compliment. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel this way.”

Brandon smiled. “What way?”

“Like I’m someone special.”

Brandon tossed his head back and laughed, then brought his arm around her shoulder to tug her close. “Of course you’re special, Sandra. Especially to me.” Without warning, he spun her in front of him, and moved in for what felt like the most glorious kiss of her life.

“Brandon,” Sandra gasped when he let her go. “We’re in
public
!”

“So?”

“So, I thought you were… you know…
shy
.”

For the second time, Brandon threw his head back and laughed. It was a loud, booming sound that made Sandra feel more alive. “Shy? Well, that’s a first. I’ve been called many things, but
shy
has never been one of them.”

“Then why—” Sandra started, but Brandon’s Ferrari appeared in front of them at that moment. Brandon reached into his pocket and gave the valet a tip, before walking around to open Sandra’s door for her.

“Shall we go?”

The drive to the Pacific Northwest Ballet
took longer than Sandra expected. The building was on the outskirts of town, and they had to fight through rush hour traffic to get to the show on time. Brandon parked in the lot when they arrived, and surprised Sandra by leading her away from the main entrance.

“Where are we going?” Sandra asked.

“I got us a box,” Brandon explained, smiling. “There’s a special back entrance that takes us there.”

Sandra knew better than to be impressed by this point, but Brandon’s privileged world was not something she thought she’d ever find herself in. Even now, walking through the crisp evening air felt a little like being in a fairytale.

Clarisse was waiting for them inside.

Brandon’s assistant looked spectacular, as always, in a trim black dress and fur coat. Sandra wondered how wealthy Clarisse had to be to afford the beautiful pearl necklace that hung around her neck. Maybe it was a family heirloom.

Clarisse was ecstatic to see Sandra, but Sandra couldn’t say she returned the sentiment. It wasn’t that she
disliked
the woman; rather, she’d been looking forward to having Brandon to herself that night. And he’d never even mentioned that Clarisse would be here!

Sandra was surprised by the irrational bolt of jealousy that shot through her when Brandon ducked in to give his assistant a very congenial kiss on the cheek. Before she could say anything, however, the three of them were shown to their box as a voice on the intercom announced the start of the show.

The private box fit seven, but Brandon had bought all the seats to ensure they’d be alone. There were three seats in the front row, and two in each of the back ones. Brandon offered Clarisse the seat closest to the stage, and took the one beside her in the middle. Sandra sat on Brandon’s other side.

Though their box boasted an outstanding view of the stage, it wasn’t much higher than the crowd below. Only seconds after Sandra sat down, the houselights dimmed, and the stage lights flared on. The crowd’s hushed murmur ceased.

A spotlight shone on a solitary figure, dressed in a black bodysuit with everything covered but his eyes. He stood there, still as a frozen lake, as a lonesome melody began to play in the background. Wisps of fog drifted from the sides, one lit up a bloody red, the other a stormy blue.

“Aterballeto is Italy’s leading contemporary ballet company,” Brandon whispered in her ear. “I’ve seen them perform there, but never in North America. This performance is called
Moonshadows of a River Dance
. Pay close attention to the lead soloists. The choreographer does a masterful job of displaying their talents. There will be many dancers on stage at the same time, so it will be easy to lose track.”

Sandra smiled, nodded, and focused her attention on the show. A woman stepped out of the darkness to stand beside the man. Without warning, he struck out a hand and grabbed her. Music began to blare. Sandra jumped in surprise, but then quickly found herself lost in the excitement of the show. Brandon was right. Before long, dozens of other dancers had streamed onstage. They formed lines and extravagant shapes, leaping and catapulting over one another as they ran from side to side, contorting their bodies in the air, landing with grace and skill. The performance was magnificent as a whole, and Sandra loved watching the beautiful bodies and figures, all so strong, yet so very graceful. The choreography was immaculate and inspired. Each move by every dancer was distinct yet somehow perfectly in line with the music.

Sandra was so absorbed in all of it that she was shocked when the dancers streamed offstage and the lights came on.

“Is that it?” she asked Brandon, anxious.

He looked at her and chuckled. “No. This is just the intermission.”

“Oh. So there’s going to be more?”

“Of course. This is just a chance for everybody to stretch their legs. Come.” He got up and offered Sandra a hand. She took it, and together they left the box with Clarisse in tow.

Outside, Sandra wouldn’t have minded Clarisse’s presence so much were it not for the way she monopolized Brandon’s attention. Clarisse was a great fan of the ballet and, unlike Sandra, could actually comment on it knowledgeably. As soon as they reached the concession, all of Brandon’s focus turned to his assistant. What made it worse was just how
familiar
Clarisse acted around him. She touched his arm, whispered in his ear, laughed at a private joke. Sandra stood with them as other people milled around, and felt a little ridiculous in the bright yellow dress amongst the sea of dark silks and subdued pastels. When she had been on Brandon’s arm, she didn’t mind standing out. Now, she felt like she was on the outside looking in, and decidedly unwelcome. Clarisse and Brandon had known each other five years, Clarisse told her once. Right
now,
Sandra felt like an intruder to their world.

Brandon didn’t even seem to notice when she excused herself to go freshen up. She found a private restroom one floor up. She went in and locked the door before approaching the mirror to stare at her reflection.

A little bit of her fear was assuaged by the woman staring back at her. Even in the vibrant color, she looked dignified. The dress might be bright, but it was still classy. The fabric hugged her figure nicely, and even though the hemline ended just short of her knees, it somehow still seemed reserved enough for a ballet theater.

Sandra turned the tap on and dipped her hands into the running water. Something about Clarisse irked her, more than it should have if Clarisse’s only transgression was taking over Brandon’s attention. She had done nothing wrong, not purposefully, and had always been friendly and courteous toward Sandra. Yet it was strange how Brandon allowed Clarisse to act so informally around him. It could not be typical for a regular boss-to-employee relationship. And, why had Brandon not said anything about inviting her? Something was
off
, Sandra was sure of it. She needed to figure out
what
…

She sighed. The only thing she
knew
was that she was overreacting to the whole thing. There didn’t have to be anything unusual about Brandon’s relationship with Clarisse. Brandon seemed like a man who took good care of those around him, and if Clarisse had been his assistant for so long, why
wouldn’t
he invite her to a show like this? Especially given Clarisse’s clear interest in ballet.

Sandra turned the tap back off and tried to focus on something else. The performance so far had been magnificent. She would not have originally thought Brandon one to appreciate such things—especially not after their first encounter. Now, after seeing his more tender, caring side this morning, she wasn’t surprised.

Sandra heard the door creak open behind her, and spun around in surprise. “Sorry, there’s someone in here!”

But the door kept moving. All of a sudden, Brandon’s familiar figure filled the doorway.

“Brandon…?” Sandra said. “What? How did you…?”

He held up the flattened end of a paperclip between his fingers, roguish grin on his face. “It’s a push-pin lock,” he explained. Two powerful strides took him right across the room. “Do you know, Sandra, how fucking hard you are to resist?”

Before she could answer, his mouth crashed into hers. For the first moment, Sandra was painfully aware that the door was still unlocked and anybody could walk in on them. That worry vanished as she lost herself in the great heat of Brandon’s kiss. There was nothing gentle about the way his mouth collided with hers. It was all raw, unrestrained hunger on his part.

His hands were on her body. One started trailing up her leg. “Brandon…” Sandra breathed, breaking away from his kiss to clear her mind, “…not here.” She gripped his wrist to push his hand away from between her legs. She didn’t want him to realize how turned on he’d made her—nor how wet her panties were.

His hand disappeared. “You’re right.” The flare of disappointment at how fast he’d acceded overwhelmed any pleasure she got from having her way. “I’ll see you in the box,” he said. “Don’t be long. The second half’s starting soon.”

Just like that, he was gone, leaving Sandra in the restroom with her heart racing and her cheeks burning from the scratch of his stubble. She walked to the door on wobbly legs, pushed the lock in tight, and took five deliberate breaths. She had to compose herself.

Back at the mirror, she could see how flushed her face and neck were after Brandon’s single kiss. She shook her head in disbelief. There was no way she could reconcile the sheer
speed
with which she’d responded to him sexually. It was unprecedented. Even worse, she could not deny how cheap it made her feel—or how damn
hot
all of it was!