She turned her head toward me, one perfectly shaped eyebrow lifting. “Do you mean the time you threw your briefcase at me and stole my taxi?”
“Yes,” I said. “I didn’t throw my briefcase at you, though.”
Her mouth curved into a small, knowing smile, and my heart did an odd type of double-beat. “Sure, you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” I said instead of arguing the point. “I had a meeting run over and lost track of time.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know how these things go.”
“Fair enough.” It occurred to me then that she really did know. In fact, she was one of the few people in the city who knew exactly how things like that went when you were in charge of a company the size of either of ours.
Relief eased some of the tension from my muscles and I leaned back in my seat, knowing I was lucky to have found someone who actually understood my life. “Regardless, I do apologize.”
“How about we both just promise to do whatever possible to meet on time and leave it at that?”
“Deal.”
She gave me another smile, then turned back to the window. For the rest of the ride, neither of us said much. I was too aware of her beside me and the faint scent of her perfume on every inhale to even think straight, let alone converse, and I took the time to brace myself for an evening during which I would have to do both, all the while having her on my arm.
The venue was just outside the city, a sprawling estate that screamed old money and discretion. Candlelight flickered along the drive, through tall windows, and reflected on polished stone.
I stepped out of the car first and offered her my hand. She took it without hesitation, her eyes briefly meeting mine as shewrapped her fingers around my own and stood. We made our way inside together still without saying a word, pausing in the doorway for a beat to have our picture taken.
When I helped her out of her coat, my knuckles brushed along her spine, her dress dipping low at her back. The touch was brief enough to be deemed accidental, but if I had to be honest, I would admit that it had been very much deliberate.
I caught the slight catch of her breath at the contact, but as soon as she turned to face me, I was the one whose oxygen supply was suddenly cut off. The gown was vintage in style, nineteen-nineties perhaps, and understated, meant to tastefully show off her curves.
And it did. It really,reallydid.
For just one moment, I let my gaze rake over her, taking in the smooth curve of her hips and following it up to her breasts. God, it would be so easy to forget why we were here while she was looking like that, her hair arranged just so over her shoulder and the back of her dress low enough that my fingers would graze the top of her ass if I slid them below the hem.
I almost groaned out loud just picturing it, but this was our big public moment, and it went exactly how I’d known it would. Once I yanked my mind out of the gutter, that was.
The atmosphere in the room shifted when we entered, conversations stalling and heads turning. Business allies and rivals alike watched us cross the floor, but neither one of us faltered. Jane’s hand was wrapped around my elbow, our sides pressed together in a way I hoped made us look very much in love.
As I swept her from one group of people to another, I never failed to introduce her, even to people she probably already knew. “This isDr. Jane Thayer. My wife.”
I emphasized theDr. every time and Jane played her part flawlessly. She smiled when appropriate, spoke when itmattered, and held herself like it hadn’t been years since she’d last done this. By the end of the evening, it felt like we’d walked into rooms together countless times. Like we had practiced.
At one point, as we stood near the bar listening to someone drone on about philanthropic initiatives, I had the absurd thought that we’d leave here, go home, and argue about what to watch on television. I pictured her kicking off her heels, stealing my shirt, and falling asleep halfway through some reality show neither of us cared about.
To my surprise, I even felt a smile on my lips as I thought about it.
The host tapped his glass and asked for everyone’s attention. A hush fell across the room immediately when he launched into a toast. I hadn’t seen it coming, but it turned out to be a toast tous, the new couple.
We leaned into each other as if it was a developed instinct, smiling as we looked into each other’s eyes while he congratulated us, but then he mentioned her father. “Clearly, this apple fell very, very far from the tree.”
It was brief and casual, a poorly considered joke, but laughter followed along with muted applause and clinking glasses. All I really heard, however, was a chorus of amusement at the Thayer family’s expense.
Jane stiffened beside me, but when I glanced down at her, she was still smiling as if nothing had changed. Anyone else might have missed her reaction given what an expert it seemed she was at hiding it, but I felt the subtle change in her posture, the way her fingers tightened where they rested against my arm, and I saw the panic flickering across her face. She quickly masked it, but not before I’d seen the embarrassment at having her old wounds dragged into the light.
Something hot and angry flashed through my chest. The way I saw it. I had three options here. I could go berserk, stuff thehost down the nearest laundry chute, and deal with the fallout later. Or I could laugh along, play the part, and let it pass. Alternatively, I could do exactly what I’d promised her I would, which was to protect her.
I didn’t give myself time to think, simply stepping into her and closing the distance before the moment slipped away. As if I’d done it a hundred times before, I took her flushed face between my hands, feeling the faint tremor of her erratic pulse under her jaw.
Somewhere behind us, the host was still smiling, probably basking in his own cleverness, but I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze and smiled that smile the Westwoods were probably going to trademark sometime soon.
We all had it, the slow, gracious curving of our lips that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than being absolutely lethal. This guy had just signed a death warrant of sorts. I just couldn’t decide what would die first, his business, his social status, or his membership to every club he’d ever belonged to.
