"How's your son?" she asked quietly, reluctant to leave his side. "How old is he now?"
His lips quirked and she felt her heart contracting at the look of love softening his features. "Six going on sixteen," he murmured. "He's a very happy child, the joy of my life."
"I'm sure he is." She was about to say more when her brother came over.
"You're neglecting your guests." Andrew's eyes touched on the other man, his glance cool and distant. "McDermot."
"Drummond," Vincent acknowledged him with a curt nod. "I'm afraid I've been monopolizing the hostess." Taking her hand, he squeezed. "I hope to see you before we leave."
"Oh, absolutely."
With a nod at Andrew, he moved away.
"I came to rescue you."
"I did not need rescuing." She had to tear her eyes away from his retreating back.
"Oh, I beg to differ. You looked hopelessly lovesick just now. I'm sure I'm not the only one to notice that. He happens to be a very rich and powerful man with a tragic history and you're the woman who has become a media sensation. There are bound to be whispers. So, yes, I came to rescue you from making a damn fool of yourself."
"Oh, shut the hell up," she snapped.
"I'm your brother, the only family you have, and I'm determined to take care of you, with or without your approval." Taking her hand, he tugged her in the opposite direction. "Smile, darling, a camera is aimed at us."
*****
The wine was superb and the champagne top notch. No expenses had been spared. Vincent had originally planned on spending an hour tops, just to show his support, but it was going on two and he was still here. He half listened to the conversation eddying around him. Adam was going on about a boat he had just purchased, and Liam was extolling the merits of a painting he had invested in. There were others of his club members milling around. He had caught sight of Kane, Bryce, Dennis and Jack.
His sister was right. Althea was superbly talented. The pastries were melt in the mouth good, and everyone was talking about them.
He found himself watching out for her. It seemed like she was everywhere. He had always admired her restless energy. A smile touched his lips as he also recalled that she could never keep still. He also should have known that she would become a sensation. She had loved baking even as a teen.
He remembered popping over to her house and she would be in the kitchen with an apron tied around her slender waist and whipping up batches of the best chocolate chip cookies he ever tasted. And she was always experimenting.
"She's quite something, isn't she?"
He gave a start and realized that the man was talking to him. Forcing his gaze away from his former best friend, he responded.
"Pardon?"
"I noticed you looking in the direction of our gorgeous hostess," the man said with a grin. "I asked her for her personal number, but she simply gave me her business card. I inquired of her brother if she was single and he said yes."
"I see." For some reason, he was annoyed at the man's approach. He was an acquaintance and did something in banking. The man's name eluded him for an instant.
As if guessing that Vincent did not remember his name, he supplied it. "Arthur Forsythe."
"Of course. Would you excuse me?" Without waiting for the man's response, he walked over to the table holding some artfully decorated pink and white pastries. Selecting several, he was about to walk over to join his mother and sister when he felt a touch on his arm.
"Darling." The sultry voice purred and had him turning towards the source of it. Stifling an impatient sigh, he forced a smile at the well-made-up face and cat-like smile. He had seen Melinda Bennett walk in with a fellow actor and had tried to avoid her. They had been intimate for a couple of weeks, but she kept approaching him and refusing to take no for an answer. The woman was getting on his nerves.
"Melinda."
"I had no idea you would be here." She wrapped her hand around his arm and clung, leaving him to either tear her arm away and cause a scene or smile and bear it. He chose the latter, with great reluctance.
"I decided to come at the last minute. Where is your date?"
Plucking a pastry off his plate, she drew it into her mouth with slow precision designed to bring attention to the poppy-red lips.
"He's just a plus one," she told him, spiky lashes half closing over cat-green eyes. "I called you last week and that assistant of yours said you were busy. She would not put through my calls."
