“Cuter than a…what?” he stares at her, baffled.
Keeping my patented Hudson “everything’s ducky” smile on my face, I tighten my arm around her shoulders and swing her away. We stroll off, leaving my uncle scowling.
“I’m really sorry about that,” I say. “Welcome to Hudson family fun and games. He was trying to provoke me into throwing a punch in front of the board members.”
“And that was the best he could do?” She shakes her head and smiles pityingly. “He’s an amateur. He’s got the family looks, but none of the wit.”
She thinks I’m hot and witty. I try not to grin like a dork. "Whoa. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a compliment. Two in one night. I don’t know if I should be flattered or terrified.”
We’ve made it to the buffet table. Rather than answer me, she picks up a mini pastry topped with a strawberry and pops it in her mouth. Juice drips onto her chin, and I pick up a napkin to dab at it.
What I really want to do is lick that sweet dribble off her, then move south. I stifle a groan. Does she know what she does to me? Of course she does – nothing gets by Winona.
“Thank you. I probably shouldn’t be allowed to eat without a bib.” She grins. “Did you get all of it, or am I a walking berry compote?”
“I could tell you, or I could let you obsess about it all evening long, my little fruit rollup.” I return her grin with an evil smile.
“They have these things called ladies’ rooms, and in them, I hear, are these new-fangled inventions called mirrors. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go powder my nose.”
I don’t want her to leave my side. It’s not a real date, but just for one evening, I can pretend. Even though I got all of the strawberry juice the first time, I reach over and stroke the napkin over her chin again, just to have a reason to caress the soft skin of her face. Apparently these days I’m into self-torture.
“Now I’ve got it all.” I drop the napkin into a wicker basket trash can that’s tucked under the table.
“So why is your uncle trying to make you go nuclear?”
“He’s fought me ever since I took over the board. Last year, when I started pushing the issue of going public, he went Full Metal Jerkoff.” I shake my head in dismay. “It’s a shame. There were a few years there after my parents died when we were close. He and his wife used to have us over every Christmas. That was wife number two. I liked her, actually. Wife number three has all the charm of a pepper-spray mouthwash, but the divorces were getting too expensive, so he’s sticking with her.”
Her attention has wandered, and I look around to see what she’s looking at.
Marshall Perry is leaning against the bar, waving his arm dramatically as he talks to a group of models with glazed looks in their eyes. He must be talking about software. He’s dead boring to talk to, but his bank account means he still draws in a steady stream of vacant, eager socialites.
“Why did he come to your gala? I thought he hated you.”
“He does, but this is one of the social events of the year, and a lot of his investors are here.”
“Huh.” Her brow furrows in thought. “Well, he’s not with any one particular woman right now, so I wouldn’t be interrupting a date. Maybe I should try to talk to him.”
I laugh. “Good luck with that.”
“Okay,” she says brightly.
She lets go of my hand and makes her way across the room. I watch in dismay. Hasn’t she ever heard of sarcasm? I didn’t mean literally good luck with that. He couldn’t possibly be her type – could he? She deserves so much better than a man who changes girlfriends more often than his underwear.
Winona makes a big show of brushing by him, and flashes her trademark megawatt smile. He smiles back, his eyes widening with interest. Then a group of guys move in front of them, waving at the bartender – and blocking my view.
I turn away, trying to stifle my murderous impulses. Work date. Fake date. Not real.
“Yeah, tell that to my penis,” I mutter to myself.
This earns me a very odd look from a Givenchy-clad social X-ray with a silver up-do, who sidles away quickly and starts whispering in her husband’s ear. Her name escapes me, but I know she writes for the fashion column in a national women’s magazine. Great. Just what I need; a reputation as a pervy weirdo who talks to his schlong in public.
A minute later, Winona’s making her way back towards me.
“Did you get what you needed?” I ask, more sharply than necessary.
She replies with a maddening smile. “Not yet.”
Now what does that mean?
“Our contract says that you’re supposed to be my date.” I sound like a sulky toddler.
“I was very subtle.”
“Not from where I was standing.” I turn away in a mild huff. Neanderthal, much? I chide myself.
“Here, let me make it up to you.” She picks up a mini cannoli from a silver tray. Taking a step closer to me, she holds the cannoli up to my lips.
I lean down and take it, and as I do, I close my lips over her fingers, sucking the tips. She barely stifles a whimper, and I withdraw slowly, staring into her eyes the whole time.
“My turn,” I murmur. I grab one of the cannolis and slide it into her mouth, and the brush of her plump lips makes me lightheaded.
“Delicious.” I husk the word, staring into her eyes. The rest of the room drops away from us. Noise fades. Arousal pulses through me, throbbing with every heartbeat.
I’m so close that I notice everything. The faint hint of bergamot in her perfume, mingling with the sweet scent of her arousal. The little white scar on her forehead. A faint spray of freckles on the bridge of her nose. The look in her eyes, fear and desire at war. It’s like a red flag waved in front of a pawing, snorting bull.
Her cheeks flush. “Umm…”
“Blake! Oh, Blake!”
Ugh. Now? Of course, now – at the worst possible moment. Sloane’s voice is like long, pointy nails dragging across a chalkboard. A very handsome male model trails behind her, another of the Beautiful People I called in to run interference, but she ignores him. Oh well, he tried. Unfortunately, she’s got her sights fixed on a bigger prize. I move closer to Winona, leaning in towards her and brushing her hip with mine.
Sloane stops, a little too close to me, clutching a margarita. She tosses her head to show off the jewelry I unknowingly purchased for her.
“I absolutely adore the earrings and bracelet. You know me so well,” she gushes. She’s smiling so hard it looks painful. She tries to slide between Winona and me. I take a step back away from her and put my arm around Winona’s waist, pulling her tightly to me. She fits snugly, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.
“Oh, no, I had Winona pick them out. I had nothing to do with the selection. In all honesty, she really went way further than I would have liked.” I beam a huge smile down at Winona. “She’s a naturally generous girl.”
“How interesting.” Sloane’s gaze frosts over, and she gives Winona’s dress a lingering, scornful glance. “You could have fooled me. I wouldn’t have taken her for someone with good taste.”
“Right?” Winona laughs easily. “I mean, look at the company I’m keeping.” She grins up at me, eyes shining with affection that looks so real it steals my breath. I return her grin, and I don’t have to fake it at all.