it glinted blue, and eyes that were wide and exotic. Did he find her attractive? Was that it? He’d found someone better?
‘And it’s not for that reason, either,’ he growled.
Rielle felt herself flush. Was she that easy to read? She had no right to feel jealous.
‘Then why?’ she demanded. He was trying to make her feel guilty, but she’d ignored enough warning signs tonight to be angry with herself.
He stared hard at her for a long moment. ‘Why are you so observant, Beauty?’
‘What?’
‘I told you that I people-watch, but you’re way more intuitive than me.’
Her gaze flicked away.
‘Why is that?’ he asked.
She missed a step. He pulled her close again, and a hot shiver went down her spine when he whispered into her ear. ‘What do you see when you look at her?’
‘She’s pretty,’ she said.
‘That’s obvious to anyone. Tell me more.’
Rielle started to crane her neck to see, but he swung her around so she wouldn’t be obvious. ‘She’s got money. That bag she’s carrying isn’t cheap.’
‘It’s also godawful. What do you women carry in those things?’
The designer bag was huge. It overwhelmed the woman’s small stature, but it was difficult for Rielle to concentrate. They were still dancing, and he felt so good, she swore her vision blurred.
‘What else?’
She shrugged. ‘She’s got RBF.’
He cocked his head.
Rielle frowned. It really wasn’t polite. Not at an event like this.
‘Tell me.’
She lowered her tone. ‘Resting Bitch Face.’
His chest jumped as he held back a laugh, yet his eyes were glinting as he looked down at her. They were so close, their noses nearly brushed. ‘Bingo.’
She shook her head in confusion. ‘That’s what’s been bothering you? What does it matter?’
‘It stands out, especially on a night like tonight.’
It did…but so what?
‘Maybe she had a fight with her boyfriend. Maybe she doesn’t like the food or she has a migraine?’
‘Maybe.’ He nodded towards an older couple dancing next to them. ‘What do you think of those two?’
‘Wealthy, self-involved.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘The necklace his wife is wearing, and the way they don’t care if they’re about to run over us on the dancefloor.’
‘Uh oh.’
She held on as he got them out of the way, and they ended up in a corner by the band. It was a fun game to play. How good at it was he? She stood on tiptoe so he could hear. ‘Tell me about the man at the table with the blonde.’
‘A lefty who knows how to handle himself, but not as good as his date.’
Her jaw dropped. He hadn’t even looked. ‘How do you know that?’
‘The way he’s playing with that knife.’
‘And her?’
‘Short nails, the definition in her arms and the bruise on her shin.’
Rielle tucked her chin into his shoulder as she evaluated the couple. All the signs were there, but who noticed that type of thing?
His lips brushed against her ear. ‘Tell me about the guy with the red pocket handkerchief to your right.’
Rielle glanced, but quickly turned her back. ‘A congressman, likes Italian food and keeps late hours.’
‘How the hell would you know…Oh.’
Yes, the man was another Luxxor client, but she couldn’t say that.
‘And the balding guy at the table at two o’clock?’
She smirked. ‘Now he’s what I would have guessed to be an accountant.’
‘Touché,’ Mel said, taking her in a quick turn.
Rielle still didn’t allow him to spin away her concerns. She met his gaze as they found themselves again in a corner away from the other dancers. They’d been pressed together for so long, her nipples were raw and her panties were moist.
Yet her head was still screwed on right.
‘You know, I’ve been working on my taxes. Can you explain to me how to calculate the basis of some stock I sold last year?’
One of his eyebrows lifted. ‘We’re dancing at a Presidential reception and you want to talk taxes?’
‘Yes.’ She most certainly did.
He met her challenging look dead on. ‘Basis is the cost you paid for the stock times the number of shares, plus any transaction fees. It should all be there on your record of sale.’
‘Hmm.’ He’d rattled that off pretty fast.
‘Did I pass the test?’
She bit her lip.
‘Rielle?’
‘Yes?’
The hand at her waist tightened, and he pulled them into full contact from chest to thigh. It left her with no doubt where his real attention lay. She could feel the proof of it against her belly, and her knees went weak.
He nipped her earlobe. ‘Shut up and dance with me.’
She melted. She was on a date. It was about time she remembered that.
The night could have gone on for ever and it wouldn’t have been long enough for Rielle. She gave herself over to just enjoying herself, and her attraction to her blind date grew.
His attention didn’t wander any more, and, when the congressman recognised her and tried to cut in, he refused.
Dancing with him had been the best and worst idea ever. Best because it felt so good, and worst because her body was roaring with arousal by the time the singer sang the second song in his encore.
The President and First Man said their goodnights to the guests and headed upstairs to their private quarters. It was the sign that the night was over and time for reality to return.
Mel
