Page 82 of Trap ’N’ Trace

Dayne had insinuated himself between her and Crystal, who’d begun readjusting her breasts and practically begging for support from those around her. To no avail, Kat was gratified to see.

His eyes danced with amusement and his lips quirked. He canted his head to Crystal. “What do you want me to do with her?”

“Nothing.” She grinned. “This time, I’ve got this.” Her grin spread as he flashed her a brilliant white smile. She raised her arm and snapped her fingers. The two security officers rushed in.

“Please escort this…woman from the premises. Put her in whatever conveyance she arrived in—cab, Uber, bicycle, broomstick—and be sure to put it on my tab.”

“Yes, ma’am,” one of the guards answered, then both men grabbed Crystal’s upper arms and dragged her backward to the elevators.

More cell phones flashed. Half the room applauded and cheered. Kat ignored them all, preferring instead to bask in the glow of Dayne’s warm gaze and brilliant smile.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Holy hellfire.

When Katrina Vandenburg stepped outside her comfort zone, she really stepped outside. More like, leaped a thousand miles beyond the perimeter.

He wanted to applaud and cheer. To beat his chest with his fists and roar. He was too stunned to do a thing but watch as the look of exhilaration diminished in her eyes. She was realizing what she’d done. For me.

The hell of it was, he’d never been more turned on in his life. It was better than any aphrodisiac. Kissing her in front of everyone was tempting, but there was only so much decorum a girl could ditch in one night.

“Buy you a drink?” Without waiting for a response, he signaled to a waiter. She definitely needed a drink. A good stiff one.

She nodded. “Thanks, sailor.”

“Scotch for the lady,” he said to the waiter. “Make it that fifty-year-old QE2 coronation Chivas.”

“Right away, sir.” The waiter disappeared.

“Oh boy.” She took a deep breath as the hired photographers aimed their cameras at them.

“Yeah. Oh boy.” He couldn’t stop grinning.

His friends always had his back. They’d do anything for him. No one had ever done something like this for him. This would make the headlines of every paper in the city. She had to know that, and she’d done it anyway. One of the richest women in the country—if not the world—had stuck up for him. Without any explanation. Pride didn’t begin to describe it. Pride for her and for the incredible woman she was. Her faith in him nearly sent him to his knees.

The gossip around them grew louder, and he had to lean in to be heard. “Thank you for defending my honor,” he said against her ear.

“Someone had to.”

He held back a laugh. “I’ve never had a woman do that before.” That was the truth.

The waiter arrived with her glass of Chivas. She downed half of it, then handed him the glass. He downed the rest, setting the glass on another passing waiter’s tray.

“Better?” he asked. A very pretty blush tinged her pale cheeks.

“Much.” She took a fortifying breath. “I would very much like to dance with you, but first, protocol dictates I say something.”

“Protocol, hmm.” He massaged his chin with his thumb and forefinger, struggling hard not to, again, grin like a total idiot.

“Excuse me for a moment.” She winked then turned to address the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, please forgive the interruption. My behavior was inexcusable.”

“No, dear. Hers was,” Betty Graham interrupted. “You only did what every last one of us has wanted to do for years. So here’s to you.” Betty raised her glass, as did everyone else with a champagne flute, wineglass, or tumbler.

More people applauded. More cameras flashed.

Dayne held out his hand to whisk her away to the dance floor before her adrenaline wore off. The moment her slim fingers contacted with his palm, electricity shot to every cell in his body, sending all kinds of inappropriate thoughts to his brain.

Amethyst eyes sparkled. Eyes he could stare into all night. Which was the stupidest thing he could possibly do. If dancing was the only way he could hold her in his arms again, he’d take that and live for the moment.