Her moves weren’t provocative in the strictest sense of the word. Still, the way she arranged her arms and bumped those hips... Well, hell, she stood out. And Wynn saw that he wasn’t alone in that impression; her first dance partner had been replaced by a guy who could barely keep his hands to himself.
Wynn downed the rest of his drink.
Wynn didn’t think Grace had noticed him yet among the three hundred guests. Now that he was aware of their shared background, there was less than no reason to hang around until she did. It was way too uncomfortable.
Wynn gestured toward the exit and made his excuse to Brock “Better get going. Early meeting tomorrow.”
The older man sucked his cheeks in. “On a Sunday? Then again, you must be run off your feet since Hunter Publishing acquired La Trobes two years ago. Huge distribution.”
Brock was being kind. “We’ve also shut down four publications in as many years.” As well as reducing leases on foreign and national bureaus.
“These are difficult times.” Brock grunted. “Adapt or die. God knows, advertising’s in the toilet, too.”
Brock was the founding chairman of Munroe Select Advertising, a company with offices in Florida, California and New York. Whether members of the Munroe family helped run the firm, Wynn couldn’t say. The night he and Grace had got together, they hadn’t exchanged personal information...no phone numbers, employment details. Obviously no names. Now curiosity niggled and Wynn asked.
“Does Grace work for your company?”
“I’ll let her tell you. She’s on her way over.”
Wynn’s attention shot back to the floor. When Grace recognized him, her smile vanished. But she didn’t turn tail and run. Instead, she carefully pressed back her bare shoulders and, tacking up a grin, continued over, weaving her way through the partying crowd.
A moment later, she placed a dainty hand on Brock’s sleeve and craned to brush a kiss on his cheek. Then she turned her attention toward Wynn. With her head at an angle, her wheat-gold hair cascaded to one side. Wynn recalled the feel of that hair beneath his fingers. The firm slide of his skin over hers.
“I see you’ve found a friend,” she said loud enough to be heard over the music.
Brock gave a cryptic smile. “You’ve met before.”
Her focus on Wynn now, Grace’s let’s-keep-a-secret mask held up. “Really?”
“This is Wynn,” her father said. “Guthrie Hunter’s third boy.”
Her entrancing eyes—a similar hue to her hair—blinked twice.
“Wynn?” she croaked. “Wynn Hunter?”
“We were reminiscing,” Brock said, setting his empty champagne flute on a passing waiter’s tray. “Remembering the time we all spent Christmas together in Colorado.”
“That was a long time ago.” Gathering herself, Grace pegged out one shapely leg and arched a teasing brow. “I don’t suppose you build snowmen anymore?”
Wynn deadpanned. “Way too dangerous.”
“Dangerous...” Her puzzled look cleared up after a moment. “Oh, I remember. You were out in the yard with your brothers that Christmas morning. You hit your head.”
He rubbed the ridge near his temple. “Never did thank you for the scar.”
“Why would you do that?”
Seriously?
“You tripped me.”
“The way I recall it, you fell over your laces. You were always doing that.”
When Wynn opened his mouth to disagree—six-year-old Grace had stuck out her boot, plain and simple—Brock stepped in.
“Grace has been friends with the bride since grade school,” the older man offered.
“Jason and I were at university together in Sydney,” Wynn replied, still wanting to set straight that other point.
“Linley and Jason have been a couple for three years,” Grace said. “I’ve never heard either one mention you.”
“We lost touch.” Wynn added, “I didn’t expect an invitation.”
“Seems the world is full of surprises.”
While Wynn held Grace’s wry look, Brock picked up a less complicated thread.
“Wynn runs the print arm of Hunter Enterprises here in New York now.” He asked Wynn, “Is Cole still in charge of your broadcasting wing in Australia?”
Wynn nodded. “Although he stepped back a bit. He’s getting married.”
“Cole was always so committed to the company. A workaholic, like his dad.” Brock chuckled fondly. “Glad he’s settling down. Just goes to show—there’s someone for everyone.”
It seemed that before he could catch himself, Brock slid a hesitant look his daughter’s way. Grace’s gaze immediately dropped. He made a point of evaluating the room before sending a friendly salute over to a circle of friends nearby.
“I see the Dilshans. Should go catch up.” Brock kissed his daughter’s cheek. “I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted.”
As Brock left, Wynn decided to let them both off the hook. As much as this meeting was awkward, their interactions three nights ago had felt remarkably right. Details of that time had also been private and, as far as he was concerned, would remain that way.
“Don’t worry,” he said, tipping a fraction closer. “I won’t let on that you and I were already reintroduced.”
She looked amused. “I didn’t think you’d blurt out the fact that we picked each other up at a bar.”
She really didn’t pull any punches.
“Still don’t want to get into each other’s stories?” he asked.
“As it turns out, we already know each other, remember?”
“I didn’t mean twenty years ago. I’m talking about now.”
Her grin froze before she lifted her chin and replied. “Probably best that we don’t.”
He remembered her father’s comment about there being a person for everyone and Grace’s reaction. He recalled how she’d wanted to keep their conversation superficial that night. His bet? Grace Munroe had secrets.
None of his business. Hell, he had enough crap of his own going down in his life. Still, before they parted again, he was determined to clear something up.
“Tell me one thing,” he said. “Did you have any idea who I was that night?”
She laughed. “There, see? You do have a sense of humor.”
As
