I hold up a finger for silence. When I’ve shrugged on the coat and tied the belt, I thrust my shoulders back before turning to face him, arm outstretched.
“Holly Harris,” I say briskly, squeezing his knuckles. “You must be one of the waiters.”
“I—no.” He rallies quickly. “I’m Jarvis.”
“Jarvis.” I draw it out, furrowing my brow like I can’t quite place the name. “Jarvis who?”
Credit where it’s due, Felix doesn’t flinch. “Jarvis Whipplesmith.” He even manages to sound like he’s proud of his last name.
“How nice for you.” I’m choosing words at random, stalling for time. It’s clear from what I read of the script that I’m supposed to cozy up to Felix—I mean Jarvis—using my feminine wiles. Good thing I totally know how to do that.
“Can I interest you in a drink, Holly?” His voice has deepened, in what I can only assume to be Felix’s idea of masculine wiles. Maybe Jarvis is a cat food Casanova, smoldering a path through high society.
“I don’t know if I should.” I’m going for bashful and sweet, but instead of being charmed by my innocence, Felix looks like he wants to laugh.
“Something in your eye?”
The eyes in question narrow, because I wastryingto fluttermy lashes, and I don’t love being told I suck at coquettishness. “Just taking it all in,” I reply, with more edge than the part demands. “Since I’m here to work.”
“You know what they say about all work and no play.” His cheesy wink is almost certainly borrowed from Bradley’s book.
“I don’t, actually. I’m just a simple girl.” This time I resist the urge to blink too much.
“From a farm?”
“Not that simple.” I take a cleansing breath before continuing, less aggressively. “What about you?”
“To the manor born,” he says through a fake yawn. “Trust funder. Spoiled rotten. I had a life-size toy train I could ride around the house.”
“Really.” I wait for him to walk it back, but he only leans closer. He must have popped a mint at some point because no one’s breath is that fresh straight off the plane.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Life-size. As in, an actual train. In your house.Choo choo.”
His cheeks flush, and I don’t think it’s from wearing velvet in Florida. “We’re extremely wealthy. Revoltingly loaded.”
I smile, because he sounds defensive—which means I got under his skin. “I’m aware. Seeing as how I’ve been working on a story about your family.”
“But it’s probably hard for you to appreciate the scale of our obscene wealth. Being from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“I never said that. My family is totally average.” Even in character, it feels like a lie. “What are you doing?”
Felix has linked his arm through mine and is tugging me toward the door. “The party is this way.”
Now that he’s mentioned it, I notice the faint tinkling of glassware and low hum of voices coming from the lobby. Icrane my neck to see what everyone is doing, but the room has emptied around us. Suspicious. A band starts up, playing something jazzy.
“Do you dance?” Felix asks.
To bluff or not to bluff? “I have a few moves.”
“The Robot?” he guesses.
“Funny.” My smile is a razor, thin and sharp. It’s possible we’re blurring the lines between “Holly” and “Jarvis” and Virginia and Felix.
“Am I beguiling you yet?” He bumps me lightly with his elbow.
“I’ll let you know when it happens. Or should I say ‘if’?”
