Her thin smile is indulgent. “Your celebrity will only add to it. People will talk about this for days, which is the true measure of any successful party.”
The last thing I want is to be paraded around. But Dee gives me a pleading look that I assume is for Lexie’s sake. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”
For Dee, I allow Miranda Townsen to take my arm and lead me away. Aside from meeting Theodore Townsen, a male clone of his wife, I’m introduced to Dr. Richard Schnauss—a preppy socialite, from his side-parted brown hair to the points of his shiny black wing tips. After he nearly puts me to sleep with a lecture on bone fusing, Miranda presents me to her friends and their single daughters as if I were the catch of the day. When I spot my woman in red sipping a glass of champagne at the end of the bar, I offer my excuses to the former Miss Something or Other and make my way over to Dee.
“Dance with me,” I whisper against her ear and splay my palm wide across her bare back.
“I’d love to.” I guide Dee to a corner of the dance floor, where I draw her close.
“She’s still looking at you.”
“Who?” I ask.
“The woman you were just talking to.”
I drop Dee into a sudden dip. “That’s all she gets is a look,” I say, my eyes feasting on the arch of her neck and the sensuous fullness of her glossy lips. “I’m taken.”
When I pull Dee back against my chest, her lush breasts gentle against me and her alluring scent rises up to tickle my senses. “Happily taken,” I add.
“Very smooth.” She laughs. “Thank you for enduring Miranda and the rest of it.”
“Anything for you, baby.”
Dee sighs and slips her arms around my neck, resting her head on my shoulder. We sway together as Etta James sings, “Here we are in heaven, for you are mine…at last.”
Over a late night dinner, I get acquainted with Dee’s friends. Lexie is cultured and sophisticated, yet she has an easy, unassuming way about her. What she sees in the uptight doctor is beyond me.
Jordyn’s someone I could hang with. She can recite sports stats better than any guy I know and she’s a riot with her glib and uncensored tongue running commentary on Miranda and her guests. When I learn she’s an architect, I discuss my plans to expand Papa’s Kids on a piece of property I’ve purchased. Her initial ideas fit with my vision, and we exchange contact information.
The steak I order is excellent, but my date is better than anything on the menu. I touch her every chance I get—caressing her soft shoulders, sliding my fingers down her silky back, squeezing her thigh beneath the table, inches away from where I know she’s sweet and creamy.
By midnight, I’m itching to get out of my suit and between the sheets with Dee. Unfortunately, a text from Stiles makes that impossible. I grimace.
“What’s wrong?” Dee asks.
From across the table, her friends stare at us curiously.
I sigh, hating to alarm her. “Remember the two men you saw on Saturday outside the community center?”
“Yes.”
“I hired one tonight to keep watch for photographers. I wasn’t really expecting to draw media interest. But I have.”
“If my mother did this…” Lexie says. “Sheknewthere was to be no press coverage!”
“I’m certain Miranda wouldn’t do such a thing,” Richard says, rushing to the woman’s defense.
I’m not so certain, but I say diplomatically, “It could have been anyone here with connections.” My gaze travels back to Dee. Her caramel-brown eyes are panicked. We both feel it—the sharp invasion of my celebrity into our private space.
As soon as we step outside those front doors, beams of light will rapidly flash in our faces. Questions will be fired at us. And tomorrow she’ll be front-page news. I know what to expect—I signed on for that. Dee didn’t. I promised to protect her from this, and I will for as long as possible. “I’m going to keep you out of it,” I say.
“How?”
“I’ll leave now. Alone.”
“Don’t worry,” Lexie says. “I’ll make sure no one speaks to the press, including my mother.” As a public relations specialist, she’s equipped to contain this situation.
“Thanks.”
