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Thankful for the intervention, Bishop grabbed a juice—he was driving back—and collected a champagne cocktail for Laura.
He nodded at Ava Prynne’s glass. “Top up?”
Ava’s curious gaze, swinging from Laura back to her boss, lightened a little. “Uh, no, thank you … Sam.” But the smile she had for him fell as she looked back to Laura, then she manufactured an excuse to leave behind an awkward situation. “Katrina from accounts has just walked in. I’ll see you both later.” Ava and her blue micro dress hurried off.
Laura’s brow quirked at an amused angle. “Lucky I’m not a jealous woman.”
“You have nothing to be jealous of.”
He’d said the words before he’d thought, but it was true. Laura had never had reason to think he had eyes for anyone but her. She still didn’t. Ava Prynne, Annabelle … no one compared.
Tables set with gleaming cutlery and fragrant multicolored centerpieces occupied the far end of the room. To their left, waitstaff manned a line of bains-marie filled with steaming dishes. The tantalizing aromas of roast beef, mornay and Chinese cuisine seeped into his lungs.
Ready to set off toward the food and avoid any more awkward introductions for the moment, he tipped his chin at the spread. “The buffet’s out.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I’m not that hungry yet. Are you?”
“I can wait.” In fact, he could wait until they got home. He’d thought they could handle whatever came from tonight but now, whether it might seem rude or strange, God how he wanted to leave. But he could delay … keep them alone and together for a time.
“Would you like to dance?”
Laura’s emerald eyes lit up. “You recognize it, too.”
“Recognize what?”
“That song.” She sidled up to him, toying with the silk knot at his throat. “It’s our bridal waltz.”
He concentrated and the memories the tune stirred left a warm place in his chest. He cast a glance around for a dance floor, but couldn’t find one.
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