Davy said to her quietly.
Duh, so did I, moron, as soon as I learned of his existence. For some odd reason she refrained from saying it out loud. “And?” she asked graciously.
“He looks good,” Davy said heavily. “In fact, he looks too good. Way too good for my tastes.”
Tam swiveled to look at the man in question. He was waiting in line at the crowded buffet where he’d gone to fill her plate. She observed his broad shoulders, the elegant shape of his head, the fine cut of his jacket, the excellent shape of his ass.
“Doesn’t he, though?” she said. “Mouthwatering.”
Margot choked on a burst of laughter. Davy’s puzzlement turned to visible alarm. “Are you feeling OK, Tam?”
“I’m fine,” she said airily. “Maybe just a tiny little bit drunk.”
“You, uh, want to go lie down, or something?”
She was touched by his concern, silly though it was. “No.”
She turned away and caught Erin’s eye. Erin was discreetly nursing her son under her scarf. For the first time, the sensual intimacy of the madonna-and-child routine did not grate upon Tam’s nerves.
“Sveti told me you flew her out for the wedding,” Erin said.
Tam nodded. “Maybe she’ll come and do a year of American high school, if she can persuade her mother to agree. She’ll stay with us.”
“I’d have a hard time with that if I were her mom,” Erin said fervently. “I’d keep that girl handcuffed to a radiator.”
The women contemplated the nightmare Sveti’s mother had gone through last year, after her daughter’s abduction at Zhoglo’s hands and her husband’s murder. Months of agonizing uncertainty.
“Speaking of motherhood,” Tam said. “I…I have a favor to ask.”
Erin’s eyes widened. “Ask away.”
“It’s about Rachel.” Tam dragged in some air, and forced herself to push on. “If anything happened to me—would you and Connor—”
“Yes,” Erin broke in. “God, yes. You don’t even have to ask.”
Relief she hadn’t expected to feel made Tam sag in her chair.
“There’s money for her in my will, but I don’t have custody yet,” she admitted. “The adoption hasn’t gone through. There are some problems. If anything should happen to me before I fix them, you’d have to fight for her.”
“We would fight for her,” Erin said. “Count on it.”
The steel in Erin’s voice comforted Tam. Tears prickled in her eyes. “Thanks,” she said thickly. “That’s, ah, good, then.”
Janos appeared at her elbow, and placed a plate with several appetizing dabs of food before her. He poured her another glass of wine, flashed her a devastating smile. Amazing. The grooves that flanked his mouth carving into the hollow of his cheek, the shadow of his beard stubble, that fan of eye crinkles…add the glint of danger, the lure of the unknown, his ironclad persistence, and voilà. A marvel of nature.
Novak. Georg. She dutifully reminded herself of her enemies, but the alarm bells in her mind were distant and muffled. True, Valery Janos was a liar, a spy and a killer—but such a gorgeous one.
Everything seemed strangely beautiful tonight. The way the light from the tall white candles on the table glimmered in the curved surfaces of the wine and water glasses pleased her. So did the luscious glow of the silver buckets that held the white wine and the champagne. Mellow golden candlelight sparkled and reflected and refracted, softening everything and everyone she looked upon. What a pleasure to draw air into her lungs and feel her ribcage willingly expand to accommodate them. No iron plates clamping down, no need to struggle for air, to fight her way out of a cage of steel. No need to maintain a tight, aching smiling mask on her face.
What a pleasure, just to let herself be happy.
God, she could almost eat. She looked down at the plate and forked up a bite of butterfly pasta with smoked salmon and cream. It felt good in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, heedless of carbs, saturated fat, calories. What the hell. It was a party, after all. She had some more and washed it down with more wine.
Heat was branded into her cheeks. An alcohol flush, she supposed. She should skip the wine. But she felt so soft, so relaxed. She took a last, farewell swallow. Then another.
“Dance with me?” Janos asked softly.
The reasons why she should not get close to this man scrolled automatically in her head, but she ignored them. She was enjoying this strange, soft glow so intensely. Knowing it couldn’t possibly last made it all the more precious.
She hadn’t felt like this in…well, ever. She’d been too young and innocent before. Back behind that blood-spattered, concrete wall in her mind, crowned with barbed wire, broken glass.
The wall that separated Then from Now.
Tension rose up, clutching at her. Leave it. Don’t go there, even for a second, or you’ll kill this feeling and never get it back.
She took another gulp of wine and pushed her chair back.
Just a dance. He couldn’t do anything nasty to her on a public dance floor. She wanted to move to the music with a big, pretty man to hold onto. None of the other men in this room had the courage to touch her.
Janos wasn’t afraid of her. That was as dangerous as it was irresistible. She gazed at him, weighing the danger, the temptation.
“Let me check Rachel,” she said.
She wafted through the room, Janos padding quietly behind her like some sinuous jungle predator. His enormous presence made her body prickle and tingle, asking a wordless question and waiting breathlessly for his answer—though she knew what it would be.
Men were predictable that way. But for some reason, that fact didn’t annoy the hell out of her tonight.
She found Rachel in a high chair, swathed in multiple brocade napkins, face smeared with red sauce, mouth full of pasta. Sveti was coaxing bites into her, while darting intermittent gazes heavy with longing out onto the dance floor.
Tam leaned down to kiss the little girl. “She ate?”
“Pasta with tomato sauce and cheese, french fries, vegetables, and chicken strips,” Sveti said triumphantly. “And fresh fruit!”
Good. Rachel lifted goopy hands to grab her, and Tam leaned down, heedless of pasta sauce to accept the hug. The fierce, almost angry rush of love she felt for the little girl was no different from the love she always felt—except that tonight, there was no painful cramp of fear and caution inhibiting her. It felt so good to be grabbed by those little arms. She loved the kid so much it hurt. Like a knife going in and twisting. But tonight, the pain was all right. In fact, the pain felt almost good. It was hardly pain at all. It was something else altogether.
But she was too gone to bother analyzing
