not you.”
Alex grunted. He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t answer. Didn’t talk about Caroline anymore, either.
Daisy tried to stifle her irritation. She told herself it didn’t matter, but for some reason it did. It would be easier if he were engaged. Easier to stop thinking about how damned appealing he still was.
Well, fine, if he wouldn’t help her out by talking about Caroline, she’d talk about the pulmonologist whose photos she’d taken for Lauren Nicols.
“I have to thank you for sending Lauren my way,” she said. She didn’t really want to be beholden to him. But it was her own work that had caused Lauren to call, nothing he’d done. So she talked about that. And Alex seemed grateful enough to take up that topic of conversation. Then the dance was over, and Douglas Standish asked to partner her for the next one.
She danced with half a dozen men, and only reaffirmed that no one’s touch affected her the way Alex’s did. She seemed to be aware of him—where he was, who he was dancing with—even when he was nowhere near. Actually though, he always seemed to be somewhere fairly near. Wherever her partners danced her, Alex was never far away.
She tried not to look at him, tried not to envy the women he held in his arms, tried not to gauge if he had held them as closely as he’d held her. But she couldn’t help noticing that while he danced and chatted with them, his gaze often sought her.
It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.
But she couldn’t quite stifle the gratification she felt every time she felt his eyes on her. She didn’t dare catch his eye, though. It would be playing with fire. And Daisy had no intention of playing with fire, though there seemed to be one kindling somewhere just south of her midsection, and every time she looked his way, the fire grew.
The evening passed quickly. It was nine-thirty. Ten. Then nearly eleven. They danced. They visited with people Alex had worked with. They danced again. And this time the flames burned even hotter than before.
His eyes seemed to bore into hers whenever she looked at him. Their legs brushed. Their bodies touched. Against her breasts, she could feel the beat of his heart. With everyone else they spoke easily, casually. But when they danced, they had little to say to each other, and the conflagration continued to build.
It wasn’t yet midnight, not even eleven-thirty. But Daisy knew she needed to be sensible. While she wouldn’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight, and Izzy was keeping Charlie until the morning, a woman could stand just so much temptation.
But one more dance wouldn’t hurt, she thought as the music began again and, wordlessly, Alex drew her once more into his arms. They hadn’t danced with each other two dances in a row. But it seemed natural now. Right.
Inevitable.
Just as, inevitably, in a few minutes she would say thank-you for a nice evening and take her leave.
But now—just for a few moments more, Daisy allowed herself the luxury of lingering close to him, to luxuriate in the warmth and the nearness of his body, to relish the shiver she felt at his warm breath against her hair.
It’s all right, she assured herself. It’s just now. Just this moment. Not forever. She had no expectations this time. She was only making memories that would last her through the years.
Her body trembled. Vibrated. Particularly her hip.
Her hip? For a moment she didn’t know what was happening. The vibration stopped, thank God. But almost instantly, it started again.
Daisy stumbled, realizing that this vibration had nothing to do with the nearness of Alex and everything to do with the tiny mobile phone she’d tucked into the on-seam pocket of the dress.
“You won’t need it,” Izzy had said.
But Daisy had insisted. Most glitzy high-fashion dresses clung so tightly that anything more than underwear—and sometimes even that—was too much. But Izzy’s gorgeous kicky swirly dress flared at the hips, and Daisy had put her phone into one of its tiny pockets.
“Just in case,” she’d said, patting it.
“Suit yourself. I won’t be calling you,” Izzy had vowed.
But someone was calling her now.
Alex caught her when she stumbled. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my phone.”
His brows drew together. “Your phone? Who the hell do you need to talk to tonight?”
Daisy didn’t answer that. “Sorry.” She shrugged, half apologetic, half worried as she slipped out of his arms and moved to the edge of the dance floor. “I have to get this.”
Alex followed her. “One of your clients out on a hot date and need advice?” he growled.
Daisy glanced at the caller ID. It was Izzy. She answered at once. “Is it Charlie? What happened? What’s wrong?”
“He’s fine,” Izzy said quickly. She sounded as out of breath as Daisy felt. “Well, not entirely fine. But nothing life-threatening. Really. Don’t panic.”
“What happened?” Daisy pressed the phone hard against her ear, trying to hear above the music.
“He was following Rip,” Izzy reported ruefully. “Doing what the big boys do. They were climbing on the bunk beds. Rip has this notion that he can move all around their bedroom without touching the floor—”
“Oh, God.”
“Well, he can,” Izzy admitted. “Of course he’s bigger than Charlie. He has longer arms and legs. More wingspan.”
Daisy didn’t need to have it spelled out. “Oh, God,” she said again, knees wobbling.
“Charlie’s a pretty impressive climber,” Izzy said with the calm that came from having got sons through the first decade of their adventurous lives. “And jumper—but he didn’t quite make it to the top of the chair from Rip’s bunk. He’s broken his arm. I’m so sorry, Daisy. I feel terrible. I—”
“Where is he? St. Luke’s?”
“Yes. Finn’s taking him. We’re on a first-name basis with the emergency room staff.”
“I’ll meet him there.” Daisy was already headed for the nearest exit so she could grab her coat and then a cab.
“I’m so sorry,” Izzy repeated. “And Rip is devastated.”
“Tell him not to worry. I’m sure it will be fine.” She just needed to get there. Now.
“I feel so responsible. Or, as Finn says, irresponsible.”
“Don’t. It’s not your fault.”
“It is. I forget how much younger Charlie is. Call me as soon as you’ve seen him. Promise?”
“I promise.” Daisy stuffed the phone back into her pocket and headed for the cloak room.
“What
