“God, you have that same…whatever it is…that your mother had. No wonder Joe pissed it all away to get between her legs. I’ll bet you’re a real firecracker in bed.”
This was bad.
I knew I could yell for help, and I would if it got that far. But that would bring people through the doors from the dance floor, and who knew who would find us. God forbid it’d be someone with a camera. Which was just about everybody with a phone.
I did not want to cause a scene, did not want any more attention on me than I’d already had today, but the old guy was strong and he was starting to push himself on me.
His hand mauled my boob, and I had realized I was just going to have to take my chances with the rest of the reception guests and call for help when Edgar removed himself from my body.
Orwasremoved, I realized, as I saw a flash of black tux, white shirt and hair lift Edgar off me and push him up against the opposing wall. The guy held Edgar there with a hand planted firmly and unrelentingly in the middle of Edgar’s chest.
“You all right?” he said to me.
I nodded, unable to speak. Speechless upon seeing whom it was who’d saved me…at least from public humiliation, if not from Edgar himself.
“You?” I said, stunned to see my knight in shining armor.
Chapter6
“Doyou have any idea who I am?” Edgar Prescott said.
“I couldn’t give a flying fuck. But if I had to guess, I’d say you were some old goat who had too much power for too many years and thought he could get away with just about anything,” Stick said.
Stick. Unbelievable that this was the guy who was helping me out. He hated me. And he—
“What are you even doing here?” I asked him. But skeevy old Edgar took that the wrong way.
“You see? The young lady wishes you to leave us alone,” he said, and took a step back toward me.
Stick swiftly moved in front of me, facing Edgar. “I think you’ve got it wrong, Gramps. Tell him, Jane.”
I was about to give Edgar Prescott a scorching—blistering!—set down when something inside me twitched.
“Mr. Prescott, Edgar. I really think it’s best if you return to the reception. Someone of your stature can’t be absent for long without people beginning to wonder why. And the last person you were dancing with was me. People will talk.”
He waved this away, the movement making Stick’s back stiffen, as if readying for an attack. I put my hand out, resting it on the small of Stick’s back, silently telling him that I had this.
“I’ve been dealing with these people my whole career—they will talk or not talk when I say so,” Edgar said. The arrogance of this guy.
“Yes, of course,” I said, placating the old fart. “But there were also several members of the press here tonight, and photographers.”
That did it. I didn’t know Edgar from Adam before tonight, but it was obvious by the look on his face that maybe the press did not ask “how high” when this guy said “jump.”
I saw it the second that good sense—or maybe political self-preservation—prevailed and Edgar gave up on the idea of having Sweet Baby Jane up against the corridor wall.
He straightened himself up, adjusting his bow tie and running his hands through his thinning combed-over hair.
Just as he was taking a step back—again making Stick tense—Grayson Spaulding came through the same door that Edgar had propelled me through.
Sharp man—he took the scene in, and in seconds had come to the rightful conclusion. He gave me a questioning look—if I was all right. I nodded. He took in Stick standing in front of me. Then he placed a hand on Edgar’s shoulder and said, “Edgar, the press would like to get a sound bite from you. Why don’t you honor them with one of your trademarkbon mots?”
Edgar was nodding as Grayson spoke, like he was coming up with the idea on his own. “If you’ll all excuse me,” he said with, like, this gentlemanly half-bow toward Stick and me. Like he hadn’t just been pawing me and trying to squeeze my boob.
“Why you old—”
I pulled on Stick’s tux jacket, cutting him off (and why was Stick in a tux?), then smoothed my hand on his back, making him stop before he pissed Edgar off and undid my and Grayson’s smoothing of the situation.
He stopped what he was about to say, and even leaned back a little, into my hand. I kept it there. The heat of him radiated through his shirt and the heavy tux jacket. He felt solid and safe beneath my hand. But I knew that Stick was anything but safe.
