The heat of his body tightened my core, and I tangled my free hand in my purse strap, letting the metal bite into my hand.
“Donations are starting to pick up.” The guy glanced my way. “Sorry, I’m Colt. Rafe’s younger brother.”
I shook the extended hand. “Noelle.”
“I know.” He angled his head toward Rafe. “Everyone’s holding out for you.”
Rafe sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Colt, we discussed this.”
“I’m not dancing.” Bishop’s arms were folded across his chest, his glower cold enough to freeze the Arctic.
“Oh, come on.” Colt slapped Bishop on the back. “You promised.”
“I was lying,” Bishop snarled, but the tightness in his body relaxed a fraction when Colt rolled his eyes.
The younger man had absolutely no fear as he held up his hand and batted at the mistletoe hanging in front of his eyes. “I don’t care if you get up there and stare, but you promised, and we all know you keep your promises.”
Rafe’s fingers skimmed my hip. “He’s right.”
“I have an idea.” Ash bumped his way between Rafe and Bishop.
He met my gaze, and a sinful smile tipped his lips into a curve. “Let’s dance for Noelle. If you want to sell the idea that she’s our old lady, we have to prove it.”
“You already told them I’m a reporter. Isn’t that enough reason for me to be here?”
A man on the other side of the room looked our way.
Something evil skittered across his expression, there and gone so fast I’d think I imagined it except for the way my gut instinct had me reaching for a weapon I wasn’t wearing.
Ash tapped a finger to his lips, a slow wink setting off butterflies in my stomach.
Rafe nudged Bishop in the ribs. “He’s right. Let’s go.”
Bishop grumbled but complied.
I imagined he’d never tell Rafe no about anything.
The band changed songs, and Ash walked me to the front of the stage.
Everyone who’d been dancing stopped and scattered, leaving the stage empty.
Ash climbed the steps first and strolled to the edge where I stood.
“This one’s for you, sweetheart.” Grinning, he unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it into his mouth, then walked backward a step and reached for the buttons on his suit jacket.
A heady thump-thump of bass rose in the air. Bishop and Rafe joined Ash on stage.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
A woman beside me dug a hand into her dress and yanked out a wad of bills.
She tossed a five on the stage and whistled.
Colt stood beside me, his shit-eating grin turning to bold laughter. “We’re going to make a killing tonight.”
“Thought it was a fundraiser.” My eyes were glued to the stage.
Ash shook his ass at me, looking over his shoulder while he finished unbuttoning his jacket and peeled it off his shoulders.
