Читать книгу A Glimpse of Fire - Debbi Rawlins, Debbi Rawlins - Страница 9

AFTER EVERYONE WAS SEATED, the lights went out and two waiters carried trays of flaming Baked Alaska high above their heads into the dining room. Several people clapped, and during a chorus of oohs and aahs, the lights came back on.

Across the long table, where Tom had made sure Dallas was seated with him and his wife, Eric’s eyes bored into hers as if the lights had never gone out. As if even in the dark he’d been drawn unerringly to her. And like a deer caught in the headlights, Dallas held his gaze, totally powerless to look away.

“This is rich. This is just too friggin’ rich,” Tom murmured, drawing her attention. “I should have brought a damn camera.”

Thankfully the waiters began serving the Baked Alaska, and Dallas used the distraction to pull herself together. If she were smart, she’d excuse herself from the table and leave the party. Between his staring and the other guests’ curiosity, she was bound to trip up. Make a fool of herself.

She’d purposely come after dinner so that she could flit about the room just out of his reach, engage in some harmless flirting, make him a little crazy and then disappear. The last thing she’d wanted was to be stuck at the table. Damn, she didn’t even like Baked Alaska.

Her gaze drew back to him. Sitting beside him, a slim fortyish woman wearing too many diamonds on her fingers and an unhealthy tan had managed to monopolize his attention. Dallas used the opportunity to give him a once-over. Watch the way his mouth quirked up on one side in a sort of lopsided smile.

He really was good-looking in a conservative way. She’d like to see his hair a little longer, but that was cosmetic. The basics—the structural stuff, like the strong square chin—were there. Great lips, too. Nice and full on the bottom.

Then again, the clean-cut look wasn’t bad for a change. Many of the guys she worked with had hair long enough to tie into a ponytail. Except for her best bud Tony, and even his dark, shaggy mop rested on his collar.

Tom made an odd gurgling noise behind his napkin, trying to stifle a laugh. “Look at him. He’s in a daze talking to Miriam Lancaster. Doesn’t even know what hit him. Did you see when he was trying to get my attention earlier? Do I have a poker face, or what?”

“Tom, stop it.” Serena’s warning voice was low, but both Dallas and the woman next to her heard. Serena’s voice dropped a few pitches. “Besides making an ass out of yourself, you’re going to blow it.”

“Okay, okay.” He stared at his plate until he was able to compose himself. It lasted three seconds before he started to chuckle again. “Did you see his face when—?”

“Tom, I mean it. I’ll leave.” Serena glanced at Dallas. “This is so incredibly juvenile. I’m sorry he involved you.”

“Juvenile, hell. This is priceless.” Tom’s eyes gleamed until Serena picked the linen napkin off her lap and started to fold it, preparing to get up. “All right, I’ll shut up.”

She hesitated and then laid the napkin back down on her lap. Tom cast another glance at Eric and then at Dallas, pressed his lips together and picked up his fork.

Through the rest of dessert, Dallas sat quietly even though her heart raced like a thoroughbred rushing for the finish line. She’d figured she’d be nervous. And she was a little. Had almost backed out at the last minute. She’d certainly never expected the exhilaration she felt or the giddy headiness of power and control that continued to build.

While Eric knew nothing about her, she knew a lot about him. Knew he was a Columbia graduate who’d been steadily climbing the ladder of success from the day after he’d graduated. His hard work had paid off, and he was a rising star with Webber and Thornton, a company that believed in family and socializing outside of the office. Eric was the only holdout, unmarried and never even bringing a date to the company functions.

She liked that about him. A rebel, kind of like herself. But the similarity ended there. His friends and acquaintances belonged to an elite circle. The kind she shunned. No, not shunned, really. That wasn’t accurate. But her world was definitely more eclectic. By choice.

But that’s what made tonight’s cameo appearance fun. No one knew anything about her. Not even Tom. He assumed she was a freelance model. She hadn’t bothered to correct him. Wouldn’t he be surprised if he discovered the truth?

She surveyed the other guests, all dressed to the nines, every hair in place, perfect manicures and polite smiles. They’d all be surprised to learn what she really did for a living. Disgusted maybe. As her parents were. To some extent, at least her brother and sister understood her need for autonomy. Not that they approved of her choices.

Dessert seemed to go on forever. Lots of cognac and fancy liqueurs were served. Fortunately enough subdued chatter muffled private conversations that she was able to easily fend off the polite curiosity of the other guests before Eric could get wind of their exchange.

According to Tom, only he, Serena and Mrs. Webber knew about the joke. Everyone else thought she was a visiting friend of the Webbers’ absent daughter. Dallas stuck to the story, and curiosity generally died quickly.

Not Eric’s, though. His gaze often strayed in her direction, although to his credit, the woman beside him would never know he was distracted. He smiled and inclined his head toward her when she spoke, did all the courteous things expected of him.

Only Dallas knew his thoughts were about her, that more than curiosity burned in his eyes when they met hers. Every nerve ending in her body reacted. As if two live wires connected and sparked with each look.

She tried to avoid the contact. Pretended interest in a boring conversation with Serena about the upcoming Heart Ball and the local celebrities who’d be attending. But she was just as hopeless, her gaze drawing back to him, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the generosity of his smile, as the woman kept him busy.

He looked at her suddenly as if he’d felt the weight of her stare. To her amazement, she didn’t look guiltily away. She held his gaze for a long, torturous moment, gave him a slow smile that invited all sorts of possibilities.

He wasn’t shy about returning the volley. His gaze wandered down the front of her dress, lingering just long enough on her breasts to remain respectful yet make her tingle all the way down to her toes.

She finally had to look away. Or end up in an embarrassing puddle on the floor. He had the most incredibly intense eyes. The eyes of a man who knew what he wanted and went after it with everything he had in his arsenal. The thought frightened her, fascinated her, and then she remembered that she had the power here. Anything that happened would be by her design. She was no Cinderella hoping to be swept off her feet, rescued from life’s drudgery.

Dallas’s life was just fine, with or without a man. Less reliance on the old vibrator might be nice for a change, but that didn’t mean she was willing to settle for just anyone. But Eric…well, he was looking like a pretty damn good substitute. Smart, attractive, successful, ambitious. Not that his view of success was important to her. In fact, her lack of interest in such matters was what put her at odds with her family.

But all that along with his standing in the business community made him a safe bet. At least for a couple of nights. What would it hurt? He didn’t even know who she was. Even if he tried to contact her through the store, Trudie was the only one who knew her and Trudie wouldn’t tell him anything. Trudie thought she was insane for doing this as it was.

Maybe she was crazy. This certainly wasn’t her style. Her gaze drew to Eric again. He’d been watching her. Her pulse skidded. She nearly dropped her fork. This was going to be one hell of a night.

HE HAD TO TALK TO HER AGAIN. Alone. Away from the party. The Baked Alaska dishes had been cleared from the table. Cognac had been served. People had begun milling around. In about a half an hour they would start leaving. He had to make his move.

If he could find her. She’d left the table five minutes ago. He’d tried to follow but gotten waylaid by Brian Sutter’s wife. Brian motioned for her a moment later, but Eric couldn’t get away before Eve Dinton ambushed him.

Tonight of all nights it seemed as if everyone had to talk to him. Normally he didn’t mind making polite conversation with his coworkers’ wives, but if he heard about another unfair Little League game or about the rising cost of produce, he’d jump off the…

“Hello again.”

Her feminine scent tickled his senses even before he turned to find her directly behind him. His attention immediately went to her glistening peach-tinted lips. They parted slightly and she drew back a step.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said almost in a whisper, and he realized he was just standing there. Staring. Speechless. Like an idiot.

“You didn’t.” He touched her arm when it looked as if she might take off. “Not at all.”

She smiled tentatively. “You seemed so deep in thought.”

“The truth is—” he lowered his voice “—I was thinking about the Webbers’ rooftop garden.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows drew together, and she hesitated, looking confused. “You like to garden?”

He laughed. “I was thinking about jumping off.”

Her eyes widened.

“This isn’t exactly my first choice for spending an evening.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Nice people.” He shrugged. “But I see most of them every day at the office.”

“Coworkers are kind of like family. You don’t choose them,” she said thoughtfully. “But you do have to make nice whether you like them or not.”

He snorted. “That’s debatable.”

She smiled. “You get a point for honesty.”

“Does that mean you’ll go someplace for a drink with me?”

“Leave here?”

“I know this bar right around the corner. It’s a nice place with piano music and—”

She’d started shaking her head. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, “no problem.”

“I’d like to, really…”

“But?”

She glanced over at Tom and Serena still sitting at the table. “I just don’t think I should leave.”

“Tell you what, how about we take a couple of cognacs up to the garden?”

“On the roof?”

“Sure. It’s quiet. Great view of Central Park and Columbus Circle.”

She seemed reluctant though definitely interested. “Won’t the Webbers mind?”

“Not a bit.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

He smiled. “Actually I’ve only been up there once, when Mrs. Webber gave the grand tour a couple of years ago.”

She glanced at her watch. “I suppose it would be all right for a few minutes.”

“Then you turn into a pumpkin?”

Her lips curved in a mysterious smile. “Something like that.”

THE GARDEN AREA WASN’T LARGE. Dimly lit, about the size of a guest room, flowers grew everywhere. Red geraniums, white daisies and sprays of pink blossoms spilled from several barrel-size stone urns. A trellis leaning against the reddish brick was covered with tiny climbing white roses that perfumed the air with their seductive scent.

Beyond the decorative black wrought iron that surrounded the rooftop garden were the lights of Manhattan and the shadows of Central Park.

“What a fantastic view.” Hands gripping the rail, she leaned out, a gentle breeze blowing back her honey-blond hair, giving him an unobstructed view of her profile. The small, slightly upturned nose and skin that was remarkably flawless except for the scar.

Eric’s curiosity got the better of him and he asked, “How did you get that?”

She turned to look at him and he pointed to his own chin. Her hand shot up to touch the marked area, her mouth twisting wryly.

She rolled her eyes. “Totally my fault. I got it at work when I wasn’t paying attention.”

“At work? How?”

She looked away. “This is a beautiful view. I wonder how much one of these co-ops cost.” She smiled. “Not that I’d ever be able to afford one.”

“I will someday.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Ambitious or optimistic?”

He laughed. “Both.”

“I wish you luck.” She gave him a peculiar smile and then turned away to look out over Central Park.

“You must make good money modeling.”

A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “What makes you think I’m a model?”

He stared, waiting for a telltale flicker to cross her face. She didn’t even blink. “Aren’t you?”

“No. But I’m flattered.” She seemed so damned sincere. Maybe he was going crazy.

“Then what do you do?”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

“Then you won’t mind talking about something else.” Her lips curved in a smile that made him her slave.

A totally new experience for him. He liked women, of course, but he hadn’t found one yet that had him thinking with the wrong head. Not since high school, anyway. “You like being the mystery woman, huh?”

The smile lingering on her lips, she lifted her chin and shook back her hair, lifting her face to the balmy breeze.

“So, if I can’t get more than your name, how am I going to ask you out to dinner?”

After a moment’s hesitation she looked directly at him and asked, “When?”

“Tomorrow night.” God, he hoped he could get a reservation this late. “Amuse Bouche. It’s that new restaurant at the—”

“I know it.” Amusement lit her eyes. “Trying to impress me?”

“Damn right.”

She laughed. “Another point for honesty. But unless you had another date cancel on you, we will not be getting into Amuse Bouche tomorrow night.”

“I confess. No reservations, but I know the maître d’.”

“Ever been to Hakata on West Forty-eighth?”

He frowned. “Sushi place, isn’t it?”

“Among other things.”

Just his luck, the woman was one of those adventurous-eater types. That was the trouble with New Yorkers. They weren’t happy with a simple steak. “You wanna go there?”

She grinned. “Ever tried sushi?”

He sighed. All the guys in the office kidded him. When they went for sushi, he went to McDonald’s. “I have a feeling I’m about to.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

“The stuff is raw. Can’t be good for you.”

She laughed. “Common misconception. Sushi can include raw fish but not necessarily. Don’t worry. I’m a pro at ordering for neophytes. I’ll be gentle with you.”

He cleared his throat and tried not to make anything of the way she moistened her lips. Tried not to stare at her glistening lower lip. “Not too gentle. That would take out all the excitement.”

Her eyebrows rose.

Eric smiled. “Bring it on.”

She laughed, deep and throaty, and the sound skated down his spine. “You’re giving me carte blanche?”

“I’m all yours.” He hoped they weren’t talking about sushi. Or he was screwed.

“Hmm…”

He moved closer. She didn’t retreat. Excellent sign. “So, what would you like to do with me?”

“Oh, I never tip my hand too soon.”

“Oh, right. A woman of mystery and surprise.”

“You have no idea.”

“I’m willing to stick around until I get an idea.”

She smiled. “You get another point for being adventurous.”

“Yeah? And what exactly are these points worth?”

She tilted her head to the side and pursed those sexy lips of hers. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“I don’t.” He took her hand, and when she didn’t resist, he pulled her against him and slid his arms around her narrow waist.

She tilted her head back, her eyes glittering with unmistakable challenge. He lowered his head and she lifted her chin to meet his lips. They touched, gently at first, tentative, searching, exploring, and then she opened her mouth to him.

He slid his tongue between her lips and tasted her eagerness. That’s all the permission he needed to plunge deeper. When she put her hands on his chest and slid her palms up to his shoulders, the tips of her fingers doing this little stroking thing that drove him crazy, he stifled a moan, willed his sudden hard-on to calm down before he scared the hell out of her.

But he couldn’t calm down and she didn’t scare. Instead she moved her hips, taunting him, driving him beyond insane. He cupped her backside, not sure if he wanted to stop her or make her grind harder.

Taking the decision out of his hands, abruptly she moved back, stared at him for a moment and then let her hands slide down his chest. “I have to go.”

“Now?”

She smiled. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure— Wait!”

She’d already headed for the door that led to the stairs but stopped hesitantly and then turned to him.

“Dallas?”

“I’ll be there at seven,” she said and then took off.