the good and the bad, Brad had stuck by Toshia’s side. Lanelle considered him to be a different breed of man from the rest. How can you classify all men as the same when you don’t get to know any of them? Just like Brad, not all of them are weak. Great. Now my subconscious sounds just like Toshia’s blabbing.
Lanelle’s sharp inhale drew the lovebirds’ attention as her gaze settled on the one person she’d never expected to see again. Too late to turn and hide behind Brad. True to her obstinate nature, she hadn’t come with a date, so she had no one to use as an excuse.
The slow saunter of slim hips, emphasized by powerful, tuxedo-clad shoulders, captivated Lanelle. She raked her gaze from his shiny black shoes up to his magnificent body to meet his eyes. With a single look, the man held her frozen, stopping her from running for her life.
Lanelle resisted the urge to look down at her gold taffeta dress to make sure her hardened nipples weren’t poking through. Just in case, she crossed her arms over her breasts. With an ease that told of his utmost confidence, Dante reached for one of her hands and placed a kiss on her knuckles.
“What a coincidence to see you again, Lanelle.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his left arm. She made a pathetic attempt to extract it, but the little tug ended up being useless.
“Won’t you introduce us to your friend?” Toshia’s voice had risen a pitch.
Shifting her gaze from Dante’s glittering light brown eyes, Lanelle felt the party filter back into her consciousness.
Clearing her throat in an attempt to gain a few seconds to compose herself, Lanelle plastered on a smile before making the introductions. “This is my best friend, Toshia, and her husband, Bradley Covington. This is—”
“Dante Sanderson.” Brad held out his hand.
“Good to see you again.”
Toshia’s mouth dropped open. “How do you two know each other?” Toshia asked.
Brad encircled his wife’s waist. “We’ve worked together on a few projects. He’s excellent when it comes to supplying and installing top-quality marble and granite.”
“I’ve branched into PVC floor installation.”
“PVC?” Toshia asked.
“It stands for polyvinyl chloride,” Lanelle answered. “They use it for plastic pipes and flooring. It can be created to look like wood, linoleum or anything in between. Depending on the look you want. You know the flooring they use in the gym? That’s PVC. It’s a rather versatile material.”
Dante turned to her with his eyebrows raised.
“What?” No need to tell him she’d come about the information while doing research on what type of flooring would be best for a hospital. “I can’t know things?”
Dante flexed his biceps in response. “I’m pretty sure you know a whole lot.”
Lanelle’s intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed by her friend as Toshia smirked.
“Brad, if you have a project that needs vinyl, give me a call. And you know I’m always available for marble and granite.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
Lanelle found it impossible to calm her racing heart.
“Isn’t the world just too small, Lanelle?” Toshia asked.
“As a Ping-Pong ball,” Lanelle creaked out, placing a hand to her throat as she struggled to swallow. Where was a wandering champagne waiter when she needed one? Darn their competence at picking up her first glass. “I need a drink.”
Lanelle released her arm from Dante’s prison and pivoted toward the bar.
“I’ll join you. We’ll catch up later during the evening, Brad.”
“Toshia and I are leaving, but I’ll give you a call.”
Lanelle reached one of the strategically located bars within seconds. She forced a smile at the bartender. “Gin and tonic. Not too much ice, please.” She didn’t hear what Dante ordered and didn’t care. When the cold drink hit her hand, she downed half of it in gulps.
She glared at Dante. “What are you doing here?”
“I hope someone’s told you how stunning you look tonight.”
Taking a step back from his magnetism didn’t help. “Flattering me isn’t an answer to the question. Did Vanessa tell you I’d be here?” Too late, she recalled she hadn’t told Vanessa anything about tonight.
“It’s good to know you’re a little paranoid before we go out on our date.” A slow, sexy grin made an unwarranted appearance, weakening her knees. “I thought I’d imagined your graceful beauty, but my memory didn’t do you justice.”
Lanelle lifted her straight shoulder-length hair off her neck, wishing she’d worn it in an updo so she wouldn’t feel so overheated. “Still not an answer.”
He took a sip of the dark drink he’d ordered, placed it on the counter and then took her glass.
“Hey, I was drinking that.”
“For the record, I had no idea you’d be here, so you can calm down. If you dance with me, I’ll explain my presence at this,” he lowered his voice, “rather boring party.”
She wouldn’t be able to withstand being so close to him. Even now his scent enticed her, drawing her closer. “Or...” She poked him in his chest, only to wince at the pain she’d caused herself. “You could save us the trouble of going to the dance floor and explain it here and now while I finish my drink.”
Dante held out his arm. The man was an enigma. Showing up at a last-minute fund-raiser gala. Late, too, because she was pretty sure she would’ve noticed him earlier. Plus, he knew Brad.
The fact that he caused her body to react in incredible ways she could never recall happening before was beside the point. She had information to ascertain, and she would. Placing her hand in the crook of his arm, she went with him to the dance floor.
The space he maintained between them as they danced to a smooth jazz song should’ve helped her to relax. Her gaze roamed the still-crowded ballroom. With the help of a few friends, she’d organized a silent auction. From the bids she’d seen earlier in the night, the guests had been generous.
Her brother came into sight. She wasn’t happy about the wink he sent her. Miguel could see romance in anything. Sometimes a dance with a man who set her insides on fire with his touch was just a dance.
Without warning, Dante invaded her space and tilted her into a dip. Gripping the shoulder of his tuxedo, she scowled into his smiling face as the blood rushed to her head. Before she could chastise him, he brought her upright.
She hated surprises. Being out of control ranked number one on her never-to-do list. Dante threatened all of that. From the few stories Vanessa had told about him, they were as different as a waltz and a tango. “Talk.”
Should she be feeling
