Then one night he had finally done something right with her. Too bad he could not recall what it was. All he knew was everything changed and he regretted, as a consequence, that she hated his guts. Regretted it big time. But eventually, he had learned to live with what he'd done.
As a result of that night—or, more to the point, of how he had shot off his big mouth afterward—he had sat up and taken a good hard look at the direction he was letting his life be led. Then he’d wrestled control of it before it could become firmly entrenched in the downward spiral it had been racing toward. For that alone he owed her.
When Kurstin told him Hayley was coming back to town, it had never occurred to him that his life might change as a result. He had simply expected to fall into the same old pattern of him flirting and her resisting. Except this time he would be sober.
And at first that was exactly the way it had worked. But something had shifted the other night when she'd cried all over his chest and he had watched his damn T-shirt slip-sliding up over her naked hip.
Something that prevented him flirting tonight.
The music came to an end and Jon-Michael smiled down at Gertrude, pouring on the charm as he escorted her back to her table. That it took conscious effort gave him tight teeth. But it also strengthened his determination.
Because tonight was a fluke, and he would do well to keep that in mind. He would get his life back to the way it was supposed to be.
If it was the last damn thing he did.
Ty didn't release Kurstin when the music came to an end. "One more dance," he said and tightened his grip on her while he waited for the music to resume.
She tipped her head back to look up at him. "Oh, but I really should be getting back to—"
"One more."
Her head settled back on his shoulder and she smiled as they began to move to the new tune.
When the song came to an end and the combo immediately launched into The Girl From Ipanema, Kurstin and Ty looked at each other, grimaced, and walked off the floor. At the edge where sprung hardwood met carpeting, he turned her toward the linen-covered tables lining the wide bank of windows overlooking the pool. "Join me at my table."
Kurstin reluctantly disengaged her arm from his grip. "I would truly like that, but I cannot.”
"Okay. I'll join you at yours."
"Ty, I have business to attend to."
"Private business or the glad-handing variety?"
"A little corporate social mingling."
He gave her a lopsided smile. "So take me with you. I wouldn't mind meeting some of Gravers Bend's movers and shakers."
"Fine," she agreed. "But when you’re trying to stay awake over aperitifs I want you to remember it was your idea .”
Kurstin was surprised to see Jon-Michael deep in conversation with Mildred Bayerman, the only female to sit on the board of directors at Olivet Manufacturing. Curious, but unwilling to interrupt, she steered Ty to a table on the opposite side of the dance floor where her father sat with three other board members and their wives. Reaching it, she performed introductions.
Ty watched as Kurstin systematically charmed everyone at the table with a vivacity that appeared to be as natural to her as breathing. Her vibrant red dress brushed his pant's leg as she turned to the man on her other side.
"How is your granddaughter doing, Mr. Thompson? Is she still taking ballet?"
The guy’s face lit up and he pulled out his wallet. Kurstin moved closer in order to admire the photographs the older man showed her of a small, freckle-faced kid in a pink tutu. Then she turned her attention on the three people seated on the other side of Thompson. "Hello, Mr. Roley, Mrs. Roley. How is the golf game going? And how are you doing, Mr. Lorenz? Are you saving a dance for me this evening? I haven't had a chance to do the Twist since you and I won the contest at the St. Paddy's Day dance."
The man hopped up with an enthusiastic offer right on the spot, and Kurstin turned to Ty. "Excuse me a moment, won't you?" she murmured and allowed the board member to lead her to the floor. Ty observed her animated dance with the older man for several moments before turning back to the people at the table to exchange small talk.
Patsy Beal had just joined him when Kurstin and the Lorenz guy returned to the table. Kurstin gave her a warm smile.
"Congratulations," she complimented the realtor. "You have pulled off another outstanding party." Then hooking an arm through his and flashing a mischievous smile his way, she added, "And thank you so much for introducing me to Ty."
"It was my pleasure." Pasty glanced around. "I have not seen Hayley this evening. She could not make it?"
"No, I'm afraid she had to work. And speaking of missing persons, where is that husband of yours? I haven’t seen him tonight either."
"Oh, he's around somewhere," Patsy replied vaguely. "I have been so busy it is hard to keep track."
Kurstin laughed. "Given the amount of work you put in, I suppose he might as well have stayed at home for all he'll see of you tonight."
Patsy murmured something noncommittal and then glanced at her watch. "You will have to excuse me. I just wanted to stop by for a moment to check on Ty and make sure he did not feel neglected. Now that I know he is in good hands, I really must have a few words with the pyrotechnics expert." She hurried off.
Standing with Kurstin by the pool a short while later, Ty found himself paying more attention to her expressive face than the fireworks exploding against the dark bank of clouds in the sky. He paid only the scarcest notice as the pyrotechnics tinted those clouds an ever-changing palette of jewel tones. The photos of her he had found online had not done her justice. They hadn't conveyed a fraction of her enthusiasm or charm. Seducing her would definitely not be a hardship.
Resisting the impulse to rush the seduction might prove to be the difficult part.
Kurstin leaned into the mirror in the ladies' room a short while later and smiled with unabashed good humor at her high color. Small wonder she was flushed: her heart was dancing, her pulses fluttered, and excitement skittered along her nerve endings. And to think she had not wanted to come tonight.
She blotted the sheen from her T-zone and reapplied her lipstick. Standing back, she fluffed her hair with her fingertips, tugged the bodice of her scarlet dress more firmly into place, and surveyed the overall result.
Not bad. And who knew...
If she played her cards right, she just might get lucky tonight.
Looking up from the series of sketches he had drawn on the tablecloth when the wine list card would not hold them all, Jon-Michael's voice trailed off in mid-explanation. "Oh, hell, Mildred, I'm sorry," he said, recalling where they were for the first time in fifteen minutes. "I must be boring you to tears."
"Not at all." She gave him the smile reputed in company circles to make sharks clear a path for her out of professional courtesy. "I like your enthusiasm."
He was embarrassed by it. Mildred Bayerman was a tough old broad from the days when the description was considered a compliment. When she had cornered him demanding to know why he had quit Olivet's, he'd found himself bluntly informing her of his differences of opinion with his father. And when she asked how he would do things differently, he had told her.