For 100 Days Page 15

  “Go on,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine.”

  He nods. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watch him walk away, savoring the cut of his suit on his fine form and the loose, animal prowl of his limbs as he crosses the ballroom and is greeted by the beaming politician. Mayor Holbrook pumps Nick’s hand enthusiastically as the small crowd of reporters close in on them.

  I stand there for a moment, then decide to busy myself with a glass of wine. I drift through the elegantly dressed crowd, wending my way toward one of the bartenders positioned near the ballroom’s dance floor.

  I can’t say that I’m completely comfortable among this elite crowd, but the music being played by the small orchestra at the front of the ballroom is relaxing and the sea of beautiful gowns and tuxedoes provides plenty of distraction for me as I request a glass of Pinot noir and settle in to people-watch until Nick returns.

  With wine in hand, I begin weaving back through the gathering. The ballroom is packed and bustling, both with the mayor’s invited guests and the army of hotel catering personnel who stroll the room offering fancy hors d’oeuvres to the clusters of conversing partygoers.

  As I meander back toward the other side of the room, one of those catering servers accidentally pivots into my path, nearly crashing into me with her silver tray of crudités. In reflex, I hold my wineglass up and out of the way as the short blonde comes to an abrupt halt, facing me. For a stunned moment, neither one of us speaks.

  “Avery.” Kimmie’s pinched expression goes from shock to confusion as she looks me up and down. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Chapter 22

  I am so busted.

  Dread washes over me as I stare at my least favorite coworker from Vendange. Kimmie is the last person I expect or want to see here tonight. She could screw me in any number of ways right now, and the thin sneer that spreads over her face only drives that point home even harder.

  I tell myself to ignore her attempt at confrontation. After all, considering the situation, my best defense is likely an offense. “I’m surprised to see you here, too, Kimmie. I didn’t realize you work for the hotel.”

  She’s still scowling, but my question seems to catch her off guard. “I don’t, usually. My cousin is the catering manager. I fill in when they have large events and need the extra staff.”

  “Oh. Well, enjoy the party then. Don’t work too hard.” I force a light smile and start to step past her.

  “Does Joel know you’re here?”

  Her acid tone freezes my feet in place. I should’ve guessed she wouldn’t let me skate by so easily. But the note of accusation in her voice pisses me off. I swivel a cold look on her. “What does that matter to you?”

  “It doesn’t. But I think it’ll matter plenty to him.” Her lips purse, and I can already see the glimmer of satisfaction in her face. “When he called me to see if I could take your shift today, he said you called in sick. Funny, you don’t look sick to me.”

  “How nice of you to say so,” I reply with equal venom.

  “So, what are you doing here? You can’t possibly be on the guest list for something this swank, so how’d you get in?” She glances around me, her gaze searching now. “You here on a hot date or something?”

  She titters as she says it, as if she finds the idea preposterous. But her question hits its mark with laser accuracy—even more than her implied threat about ratting me out to Joel. And as she scans the crowd, obviously looking for clues as to who I could be with, genuine panic blooms in my stomach.

  If she sees me with Dominic Baine, I have no idea what she’ll do.

  If she decides to confront me again, when I’m standing near him, I’ll not only be humiliated, but sick for the embarrassment it could cause him. Especially in such a public place.

  The thought settles on me with a weight I can hardly bear. If Nick were to find out I’ve been lying to him, pretending to be someone I’m not, he’ll be furious.

  If it should happen in front of his peers or the mayor—or, dear God, in front of the press—he’ll have every right to despise me.

  Kimmie studies me with open amusement. “What’s wrong, Avery? I swear, you look like you just swallowed a bug.”

  It feels like I swallowed an entire hornet’s nest, but I’m not going to dignify her needling me by giving her any kind of response.

  I down my wine and set the empty glass on her tray without comment. I hear her outraged scoff as I brush past her, but I don’t turn around to enjoy the moment. I don’t hesitate for a second as I step through the crowds at a brisk clip, desperate to get away from her. With any luck, I can find a ladies’ room to hide in somewhere until I’m able to calm my jittery nerves enough to return to the party and wait for Nick.

  I’m so preoccupied with that mission, I hardly register the presence of a tall, handsome man emerging from out of a cluster of tuxedoes up ahead. Warm brown eyes dance with friendly greeting as Jared Rush flashes his megawatt smile at me.

  “This party just got vastly more interesting,” he drawls as I slow to a pause in front of him. “Good to see you, Avery.”

  “Jared, hi.” Summoning my composure, I return his welcoming smile. “Nice to see you here too.”

  As rattled as I am, his laid-back charm helps calm my nerves. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes. Tonight, his long brown waves are contained in a loose ponytail at his nape. The look is considerably tamer than the first time I saw him, but even dressed in an impeccably tailored tuxedo with his wild mane swept back off his face, Jared still exudes a swaggering, rebel vibe that he wears without a trace of apology.

  I like that about him and am genuinely glad to think I have at least one ally here tonight.

  Making his excuses to the other men he’d been talking with, he turns his full attention on me. “Where were you heading so fast? Don’t tell me you’re about to leave.”

  “No, um . . .” I shake my head in vague denial. “I was just thinking about getting some air.”

  “Can’t say I blame you. Anytime you have this many politicians in one room, all that hot air makes it damn hard to breathe.” Jared nods toward the open French doors of the ballroom. “I’d be happy to escort you outside if you’d like. If you’d like something better to eat than the frou-frou appetizers they’re passing off as food tonight, I’d be happy to buy you dinner as well.”

  “Oh, I—” My gaze drifts away from him, searching out Nick on the other side of the gathering. He’s still talking with the mayor, and, since I last looked, there is a growing crowd of other men and women all vying for his time now too. “I’m actually here with someone, Jared.”

  “Ah.” He inclines his head in acknowledgment. “I should’ve known I wouldn’t be so lucky to find you here unattached.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” The grin he gives me is boyish. And a little wicked. “Although, I have to wonder what kind of fool would leave a woman as lovely as you all alone for even a minute in a room full of wolves like me.”

  “She’s not alone.”

  Nick’s deep voice slashes through the din of the room, low and level. I turn and find him standing directly behind me, as if he crossed the length of the room in an instant. He must have broken away just as I’d searched him out a moment ago. Even the mayor and his companions seem befuddled to have lost him so abruptly, their stares rooted on him from across the ballroom.

  Nick seems utterly unconcerned with anything other than me.

  From the thunderous look on his face, I half-expect Jared to stammer an apology and retreat as fast as he can. But he doesn’t. Instead, he exhales a sardonic chuckle and slowly shakes his head.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. I guess if I’ve got to lose out to someone, it might as well be you, Baine.”

  “Glad you feel that way, Rush. As for wolves looking to encroach on my date, you’d be wise to keep your paws to yourself. Be a shame to lose them.”

  Nick says it with wry
humor, but to me, his eyes tell a different story. There’s a warning in his eyes as he jokes with Jared, who’s clearly a friend. And I’m sure I’m not imagining the flare of possessiveness I see in Nick’s face when he turns his sharp blue gaze on me.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight, Jared,” he says as he reaches out to give his offered hand a firm shake. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly taking an interest in politics?”

  “Me? Hell no. I’m just here as part of Kathryn’s entourage. You know she lives for this crap.”

  At the mention of another woman—one Jared is evidently attending tonight’s event with—I can’t help but look at him in question, especially considering he’d been putting a fairly strong move on me.

  “Kathryn is an old friend of mine and Nick’s. She’s practically family.”

  “Oh.” I smile, curious to know more. But as I glance in Nick’s direction, I swear I catch the slightest hint of a shadow skate over his schooled expression.

  Jared seems to sober a bit now too. “You should say hello to her, Nick. It’s been too long. She’ll never say it, but she misses you.”

  Nick remains silent for a long moment. “I’ve already endured one command performance. That’s enough for one night.”

  I don’t know what to make of the tension that’s suddenly descended on the conversation. I can see Jared’s pensiveness, his silent frustration. In Nick, I see the same, but there is anger there too. I see the wall go up around him. Jared seems to recognize it too.

  Nick looks at me, his expression shuttered, impenetrable. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

  “Okay, sure.” I nod, unsettled by his darkening mood. I’m also well aware that I have my own reasons for leaving—namely Kimmie. Somewhere in the ballroom, she’s floating around, no doubt waiting for another chance to pounce.

  Nick turns to Jared and holds out his hand. “Give Kathryn my regrets.”

  “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?” There is no anger in Jared’s voice as he shakes Nick’s hand, only sadness. “How long are you going to shut her out, man?”

  Nick doesn’t answer, merely tips his head in a nod and mutters, “Goodnight, Jared.”

  Chapter 23

  Nick doesn’t take me out the front of the hotel. Instead, he guides me down a luxurious mirrored corridor, texting Patrick along the way.

  I hurry alongside him, past soaring marble columns and massive floor urns filled with luscious greenery on either side of us. Nick’s pace is clipped, and I struggle to keep up in my delicate high heels.

  Although he projects an air of cool, collected purpose to anyone looking at him now, I know him too well to be fooled by his outward demeanor. He’s brooding, practically vibrating with agitation. He hadn’t been overly enthused about attending the gala to begin with, but after running into Jared, he’s all but dragging me out of the place.

  “This way,” he says, catching my hand in his.

  We turn down another glittering passageway, one that carries us farther away from the hubbub of the party. Up ahead is a discreet side door for the hotel. Through the brass-trimmed glass, I see a glossy black limousine roll to a stop just outside.

  Patrick gets out and meets us on the other side of the car as we exit the hotel. He opens the back door and Nick gestures for me to slide in ahead of him.

  “Back to the apartment, sir?” Patrick asks.

  “No. Just drive,” Nick tells him. “I’ll let you know when I want to stop.”

  He gets in and as Patrick shuts the door behind him, Nick presses a button on his armrest and the privacy panel closes. The opaque glass descends silently, sealing us in together in the backseat of the long sedan.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  He’s already reaching for a cut-crystal tumbler on the center console between the two rear-facing seats in front of us. When I shake my head, he lifts a decanter of dark amber whisky and pours a two-finger measure into his glass.

  “Do you want to tell me what that was about back there?” I ask hesitantly.

  “No.”

  Without looking at me, he throws back the liquor in one swallow. A curse erupts out of him as he sets the tumbler down on the console. When he sits back against the leather squabs of the bench seat we share, his gaze is turbulent, haunted.

  The car pulls away, easing out into the evening traffic. For a long while, the only sound is that of the soft jazz coming from the limo’s sound system and the heavy drum of my own heartbeat.

  “I’m sorry,” Nick murmurs. He reaches over to me, idly stroking my thigh. The hem of my dress has risen well above my knees from sliding into the limousine, and Nick’s thumb traces a slow, sensual pattern along my bare skin. Yet despite his tender touch, his gaze is hard on me, his tone edged with ice. “You looked like you were having a good time talking with Jared before I came over. I didn’t mean to cut your night short. If you would rather have stayed—”

  “I don’t care about the party.” I’m pissed that he would even suggest it. I place my hand on his, squeezing my fingers around his larger ones. “As for Jared Rush, he’s interesting, but I don’t care about him either.”

  Nick grunts. “You’d flay his ego if he heard you say that. I don’t think he’s ever met a woman who’s immune to his charms.”

  “Yeah, I kind of gathered that when I met him at the gallery last week.”

  “Last week?” When I nod, his eyes flare darkly. “You never mentioned that to me.”

  “I just did.”

  Nick studies me intently now. “Jared Rush loves beautiful women. I’m sure I don’t have to guess whether he made a pass at you.”

  “He didn’t. Not really.” I shrug. “He was nice. Friendly.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  I hear the sullen note in his voice, but I’m not quite ready to call it jealousy. Resentment, perhaps. Suspicion, most definitely. “We talked a bit about art. When he found out I paint, he invited me out to his studio to see some of his work.”

  Nick chuckles, but there’s little humor in it. “That’s a new approach, at least.” His gaze bores into me as his fingers continue to dance lightly on my inner thigh. His jaw, however, is clenched tight enough to make a tendon tick in his cheek. “What did you tell him?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything. I have no interest in Jared Rush.”

  I’m astonished to realize how true that statement really is. I can’t deny that Nick’s friend is attractive. Jared’s attention is flattering. Any woman would think so. But in a ballroom full of handsome men, I was aware of just one. The one I’ve been unable to resist from the start.

  Lifting my hand to touch Nick’s face, I draw in a fortifying breath. “The only man I’m interested in is sitting next to me right now.”

  “Is that so?” His tone is level, but that just tells me how on edge he truly is.

  “Yes. Only you, Nick.”

  That furious pulse in his cheek throbs against my fingertips as I softly caress his jaw. His eyes search mine in the darkness of the limousine. Outside, the city flashes by in strobes of bright light and color and a frenzy of street noise.

  The moment feels tentative, charged with electricity, yet fragile. I want to ask him about the woman Jared mentioned. Kathryn. I want to know who she is and what she means to Nick. Or, rather, meant to him. Jared said she was an old friend. Practically family to both of them, he’d said. Obviously, that was no longer true for Nick.

  Why? I want to know. It’s clear that she has no place in Nick’s life now, yet I feel a pang of jealousy kindle inside me. I feel a twinge of wariness too, because I’ve just witnessed Nick’s forbidding side firsthand. Margot’s warning about him slicing people out of his life when they get too close to him chases through my mind.

  Is that what happened to Kathryn? Will I be next?

  There’s a part of me that wants to know—needs to know—before I let myself tumble any deeper into a fantasy that won’t last . . . cannot last.

 
; I’m on the verge of asking him, but Nick’s fingers are working their magic on me. He slides his hand beneath my knee and gently guides my legs apart. Then he turns toward me on the seat, his heated gaze holding me captive as he skates his palm under my skirt and up my inner thigh.

  “Come here,” he murmurs thickly, reaching out to grasp my nape with his free hand. He drags me against him, taking me in a fierce, consuming kiss while his other hand cups my sex.

  His lips are greedy, his tongue demanding as it sweeps inside my mouth. He tastes of whisky and thinly held aggression and so much desire it staggers me. His touch intensifies between my legs, and I can’t hold back my moan when his fingers push aside my panties to touch my bare flesh. I’m drenched already, trembling with arousal and aching for him.

  “Christ, your pussy is soft,” he rasps against my lips. “So fucking sweet, Avery.”

  I feel a tug, followed by the sharp pop of rending lace and satin. He doesn’t ask for permission or forgiveness, just rips away my panties, then shoves my dress up above my hips to expose me to his hungry gaze.

  I’m boneless now, utterly his to command. He pivots me on the long bench seat and stretches me out before him. In some distant part of my conscience, I’m aware of the driver just on the other side of the glass and of the city bustling on either side of the moving limousine. I’m aware of all the reasons I shouldn’t be with Dominic Baine. All the reasons I shouldn’t want this reckless passion we share.

  But none of those things matter right now. Not in this space. Not in this moment, when he’s looking at me as if no other woman exists. As if I belong to him, body and soul, and he can’t wait to take what’s his.

  “Damn, you are beautiful.”

  His palms are hot on my naked inner thighs. They are firm and strong. He parts me wide, lifting my knee so that one leg is resting against the backrest of the bench seat, my other leg draped over the edge. His fingers trace my skin, from the arch of my foot strapped into my delicate black sandal to the apex of my thighs.