“Money can’t buy what they want.” She reaches up and touches the bejeweled key that hangs around her pale throat.
“It can’t?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head as a waiter walks by with a tray of champagne.
I take one and hand it to her, then snag another. “And what is it they want, precisely?” Am I having a conversation with a woman other than Mrs. Pettyford? I think I am. And I’m enjoying it.
The sound in the room is a dull roar from too many conversations, so I lean closer, catching her sweet scent one more time, relishing the luminous tone of her skin and the way her hair caresses her shoulders. The peacock blue dress fits her like a second skin, and I find myself thinking about peeling it off her and tasting every inch of what lies beneath.
“They want the same thing everyone--rich or poor--wants. To not feel alone.” She sips her drink. “That’s what all the money is for. They want to feel secure, like they could buy anything they ever wanted. But it will never be enough.”
“And what makes you so wise, beautiful stranger?” I swallow some champagne.
“I’ve been around.” She touches the key again. “Losing things puts a lot into perspective, I guess.”
“Things?” I want her to keep talking, to tell me everything about her.
“Well, people.” She drops her gaze.
I tilt her chin back up so she meets my eyes. “Someone close to you?”
She blinks, as if trying to stop tears from welling. “I’m not here to talk about that.” She forces a smile. “Tell me, what’s the plan for the evening?”
The plan is to get you into my bed. “You know how these charity events go.” I suspect she doesn’t. In fact, I suspect that if I checked the guest list, I wouldn’t find a “Pansy” anywhere on it.
“Right.” She takes a bigger drink of her champagne.
“Where are you from--”
“Gaines!” Linton strides over, his huge smile burning my retinas. “How’s it going, man? Last I heard you were doing some sort of trek in Nova Scotia. Find anything good?” His eyes flicker to Pansy, and I don’t like the way he sizes her up. “And who is this doll?”
I wrap my arm around her and find myself more than pleased when she leans into my side. “This is Pansy, my date.”
“Date?” His blond eyebrows jump. “You?” He whistles. “Going to be a lot of broken hearts in the room tonight.”
“I’m not worried.” I press my fingertips into her waist, feeling how soft she is, how perfectly she’d fit against me.
“Claws will be out.” He reaches out and faux punches my shoulder, then draws his hand away and shakes it. “You always bring the guns.” He laughs, then backs away. “Let’s get the show started.”
“He’s even brighter in person. Too bright.” Pansy doesn’t seem impressed. Good. Linton is a larger-than-life TV personality, and the emcee of this event, but he leaves a trail of disappointed women in his wake, or so Mrs. Pettyford has said.
More people glance our way, some of them giving me that wide-eyed sort of look that’s a precursor to an attempt at conversation. Not a chance. Not when I’ve got this mystery woman under my arm and already owing me a favor.
With a smooth pull, I walk her to one of the darker alcoves along the side of the ballroom.
“Where are we go--”
“Where are you from?” I back her against the wall, almost caging her with my body. It’s like my mind has shut off and given way to whatever base instinct rules a man when he finds a woman who sets his soul on fire.
“From?” She gives me a wry look. “Well, I guess I’m from the red carpet.”
I run my fingers down her throat, skirting along the golden chain of her necklace.
She takes a sharp breath but doesn’t push away.
“Your voice has a Southern lilt to it. You’re from the South. You aren’t one of the usual buzzards who frequent these events. And you seem to know who I am, though you’re making an attempt at playing it cool.”
Her eyes widen. “I don’t, um. That’s not a true sort of thing you just said, and what--” She lets out a little gasp again when I stroke her collarbone with the pad of my thumb.
“I just want to know you’re real. That I’m not being played. Plenty have tried it.” I run my palm back to her throat and squeeze ever so gently. “Wanting to get to me. To get something from me. But I don’t feel like that’s you.” Not this woman with the soulful eyes and the mouth-watering curves.
“I’m just here to help the charity.” Her voice is breathy.
My cock is rock hard, and I have the urge to place her palm against it. Pretend it’s just the two of us, not hundreds of glitterati and constant whispers at my back.
I smirk down at her, and she licks her lips.
“I’m glad you’re here to support the charity. Here’s the favor you’re going to do for me.” I lean closer and press my lips to her ear, whispering my instructions as I feel her soft hair, warm skin, and racing heart.
5
Pandora
I try not to fidget, but I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. The women’s especially. They’re like hungry vultures circling their prey, waiting to pounce at any moment. They’re either planning to kill me or maul Gaines. No wonder he wants me to bid on him. It doesn’t go unnoticed to me that Selena’s gaze is the sharpest of them all.
“Don’t I get one of the little paddle things to hold up in the air?” I turn my head to look all the way up at Gaines. He’s got an arm around me keeping me tucked close to his side. I think he’s using me as a human shield against all the other hungry ladies. Why doesn't he see me as a threat? I could be getting ready to pounce on him, too. I am here to seduce him, after all.
Gaines pulls his attention away from the man he’s talking to. “You don’t need a paddle.” His lips twitch into a smile. Those lips had been so close to me. I was sure he was going to kiss me. Then the Queen Vulture came by and interrupted us. Wait. I mean, she totally saved me from having to kiss his overly handsome face. Or maybe she didn’t, because kissing goes along with my seduction gig. Ugh. I really need to get my head in order.
“That’s lame.” I may not need a paddle to bid, but I might need one to beat some of these women off with.
“As I was saying.” The man Gaines is talking with cuts back in, giving me an annoyed look for interrupting them. I’m not surprised by his actions. These rich folks don’t take too well to being interrupted. If I didn’t have a plan to carry out, I’d tell this jerkface right where he can stick his snooty attitude.
To my surprise, Gaines keeps his eyes on me. “You weren't saying anything of importance, Trent.”
Trent’s face flushes with embarrassment. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy the fact that Gaines put him in his place.
“You don’t always have to be a dick, Gaines.” He bites back, trying to save face.
“I do when you’re a dick to my date who you interrupted.”