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“Hello.” Clever comeback, she thought.
“And just like that, an evening I thought would be boring is anything but.”
Based on what the sight of him in a tuxedo was doing to her insides, boring was the last word that came to her mind. The first word would be sex and if all his harnessed intensity was aimed at her, she’d be in his bed, no questions asked.
“So what brings you here?” he asked.
“I’m working, actually. Networking. Darlyn was supposed to be here also, but she’s still under the weather. So I’m on my own representing the firm.” She was babbling and took a sip of wine to stop herself. “How are you, Mitch?”
“Better now.” His gaze boldly checked her out from head to toe. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks.” She decided to mimic his bold appraisal and looked him up and down. “You clean up pretty good yourself. Quite a change from the pajamas.”
He glanced down. “Speaking of monkey suits…It’s your fault I’m here.”
How did she interpret that comment and respond appropriately? He didn’t look annoyed. More like a predator on the prowl.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. At our monthly status meeting my associates drafted me to represent them when I was preoccupied with figuring out how to convince you that we would work well together.”
The glitter in his blue eyes made her heart hammer against the inside of her chest. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the huge room, which made a witty comeback something of a challenge.
“Oh?”
“I promised myself that I’d bring it up the next time I saw you, but never expected I’d have the pleasure so soon.” He took her elbow and steered her to the bar, where he ordered a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks.
For someone who relied on talking to put food on the table and a roof over her head, being around Mitch was an incredibly humbling experience. Which was a good portion of the reason she could never work with him. She emptied her wineglass and set it on the bar.
“So, you don’t like dressing up?” she said, watching him take his drink, then slip five dollars into the bartender’s tip glass.
“I’m much more comfortable in my pajamas,” he answered, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Warmth crept into her cheeks. As far as his attire went, the pajamas were a good look. But in black tie and jacket he was a tall, dark, handsome fantasy come to life. How could she not fantasize about being in his arms with his lips pressed to hers?
Good grief. She needed to get away. “It’s nice to see you again. But if you’ll excuse me, I’m going over there to check out the silent auction items.”
“Great idea,” he said, falling into step beside her.
The man couldn’t take a hint if she pressed it into his hand. He was the perverse type who would stick like glue if she asked him to get lost. She simply turned away and felt his gaze on her as he followed.
They browsed the items on display—jewelry, paintings, pricey glass art, spa packages—and stopped by the large sign that read Marshall Management Consultants. After reading the fine print, he set his drink down and filled out a bid, then stuck it in the box.
“Wouldn’t you rather have a picture or a weekend spa getaway?” she asked.
He drained the contents of his glass and the ice clinked when he lowered it. “No.”
She folded her arms over her chest and blushed when the movement drew his gaze there. He made no effort to hide his positive reaction.
“Since when did you change your mind about what I do?”
“Since a very wise woman pointed out to me that if I don’t, my ass could be grass and in jeopardy of getting hit by the door on my way out.”
“You’re already getting counseling sessions,” she reminded him. “Why would you voluntarily buy more?”
“Let’s just say that I always get what I want.”
Sam didn’t miss the expression in his eyes, the intensity snapping there. She got that familiar, fluttery sensation in the pit of her stomach because the look clearly said he wanted her. And not for counseling.
She had a feeling what he wanted didn’t actually involve talking.
Mitch leaned back and slid his left arm across the back of Sam’s chair, noting that his fingers literally itched from the urge to touch her shoulder and explore the shimmery, sexy, mysterious softness of her skin. He took a steadying breath and glanced around the ballroom, lights dimmed for dinner. Flower arrangements in fall colors of orange, gold and brown decorated the tables, garnished with small pumpkins as a salute to Halloween coming in a few weeks. Candles glowed from the center of the array and the flame only made his dinner companion look more captivating.
He leaned closer and said, “I told you to stick with me. Is this a good place, or what?”
“Technically I’m not with you,” she said pleasantly. “My father gave me a ride. And you crashed this table.”
“A gentleman wouldn’t abandon a lady whose date is home sick. Especially a lady who looks so beautiful.”
“Oh, please—”
He touched a finger to her lips, stopping the words, but kicking her pulse into a flutter. If he hadn’t been focused on the fascinating place where clavicle and neck collided, he might have missed it. Tapping gently, he said, “Don’t say anything you’ll regret.”
“I’d just like to say that if you insinuated yourself next to me in order to continue your campaign to change counselors, you’re wasting your breath.”
“The seat was open,” he said, feigning self-righteous indignation. “I only wanted to keep you company.”
“And I was looking at this as an opportunity to meet strangers.”
“Problems become opportunities when the right people join together,” he said, quoting the words on her wall.
“Exactly,” she agreed.
“How about for tonight we call a truce? You won’t ask if I’ve been playing well with others and I won’t hit you up to be my coach.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”
She looked at it, hesitating.
“What?” he asked, meeting her gaze.
“I’m just trying to find the asterisk in that statement.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“You know, the asterisk. Have you ever noticed that everything has an asterisk—an exception to the rule? Fine print. Excluded under the warranty. Discount applies only when a pregnant ape swings across the freeway at exactly 12:01. Life is an asterisk and one always needs to tread carefully lest they rear up and bite one in the backside.”
“I’m shocked and appalled,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Who knew the poster girl for optimism, voted most likely to be positive, bright and cheery, had such a cynical side.”
“Go figure.”
Her shrug did amazing things to the bare shoulder that was driving him completely nuts.
“All I’m saying is that we agree not to talk shop,” he clarified.
“Okay.”
But before they could talk about anything, the public address system emitted static and then Arnold Ryan was introduced. Since their backs were to the dais, Sam turned her chair around to see. Mitch did the same and managed to get his close enough to brush her arm. The contact left a trail of silver glitter on the black sleeve of his jacket and he thought how characteristic of her to leave a glow on everything she touched.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Arnie greeted the crowd. “Thank you all for coming. We’re gathered here for a cause near and dear to my heart.”
That’s when it hit Mitch that he’d been pressed into service because of being in the doghouse and hadn’t bothered to get any details.
He leaned over to Sam and whispered, “Does he actually have a heart?”
She turned to look at him and their lips were inches apart. Her eyes widened a fraction before she said, “Of course he does.”
“What is he talking about?”
“Did you bother to read your invitation?” she asked.
“No.”
She shook her head in exasperation, but the corners of her mouth curved up as if she would expect this from him. “My father is kicking off a fund-raising drive for the Catherine Mary Ryan Cancer Center. Colon cancer killed my mother and he wants to fund a diagnosis-and-treatment facility dedicated to her memory.”
“The valley certainly needs one.” The dim light underscored the shadows in her eyes and he recalled her saying she’d been raised with Ryan’s children. “How old were you when your mother died?”
“Six.”
His father died because his cop instincts made him intervene in a convenience store robbery. Mitch knew how it felt to lose a parent at a young age, but he’d had his mother. And Robbie for a while. Senseless death made him angry. The guilt and pain that haunted him twisted together and knotted in his gut.
“Mitch?”
He blinked, clearing away visions of the past and focused on Sam. “That must have been tough. Losing your mom so young.”
She nodded. “But every cloud has a silver lining and tonight is all about that. Making something good come out of tragedy.”
In his opinion the two were mutually exclusive, but he wouldn’t tell her that because the sparkle was back in her eyes. He wouldn’t live up to her low expectations and say anything to snuff it out.
“That’s the spirit, Sunshine.”
Before she could respond to that, the room erupted in applause because her father had completed his remarks. Sam stood to turn her chair around and he took care of that like the chivalrous guy he was. When they sat again, he noticed the waitstaff was distributing dessert and coffee while a group of musicians set up behind the lectern at the front of the room.
“Looks like there’s going to be dancing,” he commented.
“On the invitation it was clearly stated that the evening included cocktail hour, dinner and dancing.”
“I like surprises.”
“See. Even boring clouds have a silver lining.”
“Maybe. But only if you’ll take a turn with me on the dance floor.” He was sure she’d turn him down and was already marshaling his arguments.
“I’d love to,” she said.
Strains of a slow song drifted to them and he stood, holding out his hand to her. She slid her fingers into his palm and when she rose, the muted light caught the sequins in her dress and the glitter on her skin.
Speaking of surprises…He’d get to hold the silver lining in his arms.
The wooden floor in the center of the room filled with other couples and Mitch placed Sam’s hand in the crook of his arm as he led her there. He held his breath, anticipating the pleasure of her closeness. Then he pulled her into his arms and found the softness of her pressed against him more intoxicating than his Jack Daniel’s.
He looked down at her. “I was sure you’d tell me to take a hike.”
“I love to dance.”
“So I could be any jerk off the street and you’d have agreed?”
Her alluring mouth curved up when she smiled. “I believe we established that my jerk quota has been filled recently. So, I’d have to say no.”
“Then I’m not on your jerk list?”
“I don’t think that about you. Quite the opposite.”
He found her completely charming and was grateful to be on her good side. “What’s the opposite of a jerk?”
“You’re a guy who saves lives. In my book that makes you a—”
“Here you are, Samantha,” said a voice behind them.
Sam leaned to the side. Even with heels she wasn’t tall enough to see over his shoulder. “Hi, Dad.”
Mitch turned and deliberately left his arm around Sam’s waist. “Ryan.”
“Dr. Tenney. How nice of you to join us this evening.” His tone said he wasn’t actually feeling the love.
“You throw a great party,” Mitch answered politely, if only to prove to Sam that he could be polite.
“Thank you. The turnout is very gratifying.” He looked at Sam. “My remarks were well received.”
“Absolutely,” she answered, tensing.
They’d been too busy talking to listen to the speech. In his opinion Arnold Ryan was a pompous ass who gave his daughter a hard time for no good reason. Mitch tightened his hand on her waist, hoping she felt his support.
“So, Doctor, how are things in the E.R.?” Ryan asked.
Mitch shrugged. “Funny you should ask. Sam was just singing my praises.”
