that, Gerard sat back, turned to the other guests and introduced her, cutting off any reply and making her feel stupid in the process. She supposed she should have acknowledged the others when she first sat down.
Several guests had attended the same corporate training session as they had, so she forced a smile. The others at the table were strangers, except one—Stuart, Gerard’s grandfather.
At first Harley thought she was destined for an afternoon of torture—dealing with two generations of Gerard men couldn’t possibly be a good thing. But the elder Mr. Gerard quickly proved that the boorish, arrogant genes had skipped at least one generation in the family.
A very distinguished looking man, he had a head full of wavy white hair and the same quicksilver eyes as his grandson. But there the similarities ended. The elder Mr. Gerard smiled easily and didn’t raise her hackles with stupid remarks.
“So you’re the skilled investigator I’ve been hearing so much about,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young lady.”
If he’d been hearing about her from his grandson, Harley would bet money skilled wasn’t the only adjective used to describe her. “You, as well, sir. I know someone on the force who says you should have a square named after you for cutting back plea bargaining while you were district attorney.”
“Nice to know I’m still remembered. It’s been a few years since I retired.”
“You dropped the percentage of plea-bargained cases from eighty percent to ten,” Gerard said. “Impact like that lasts.”
Stuart smiled graciously. “Fortunately the numbers are holding under the current administration.”
No thanks to Stuart’s grandson. Harley knew that Gerard had left his career with the district attorney’s office and ditched his fiancée to indulge in an early midlife crisis. Rumor had it that his family and friends thought he’d lost his mind, and she sincerely wished that he’d continued in his grandfather’s footsteps so he wouldn’t have wound up working for Josh.
Keeping that thought to herself, she dodged the sudden silence by reaching for her water glass.
Gerard caught her hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s dance,” he repeated. “You’re wearing a dress.”
Leave it to the whiz kid to notice the obvious. And he didn’t look fazed in the least that half the table was hanging on his every word. Arrogance truly was an amazing thing.
“You don’t want to dance with me any more than I want to dance with you,” she whispered.
“Here’s a classic example of how you think you have all the answers but don’t.”
“If Josh put you up to this, don’t worry about it. I’ll tell him to butt out. Making us come to the wedding was one thing, but he’s out of his jurisdiction here. He can’t assign us this much trash work.”
A slow smile spread across Gerard’s face, making Harley realize she spent so much time avoiding looking at this man that she’d never really noticed his mouth before. Wide, full lips. Straight white teeth. A hint of a dimple in his left cheek.
Then, in a move she was too distracted to see coming, he looped his fingers around her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth. He brushed those lips against her palm, a warm press of skin against skin that sent a sizzle straight up her arm.
“Josh has nothing to do with this. I don’t consider dancing with a beautiful woman trash work.”
They were putting on a show for the whole table and Harley wished she had her gun. Unfortunately, it remained in the trunk of her car where she’d left it, but if she’d been armed, she’d have drawn and told him to let go. While she might not be as clean a shot left-handed, she was just as fast.
“Forget it, Gerard,” she resorted to a verbal protest, which didn’t have nearly the same impact. “This isn’t my thing.”
“What’s not your thing?” With his mouth still brushing her palm, he leaned close and whispered, “The bartender will serve bottled beer if you ask nicely.”
Now here was the Mac Gerard she knew and didn’t love. Exhaling a breath that should have dispelled all those tingly feelings, Harley said more firmly, “I do not dance.”
“You took me to the mat in defense training yesterday. Not an easy thing to do since I outweigh you by a hundred pounds. Trust me, you can dance.” Then with that iron grip still clamped around her wrist, he dragged her out of her chair.
Short of causing a scene, there was nothing to do except be tugged onto the dance floor. With his broad shoulders and long strides, Gerard cleared a path through the couples. He moved effortlessly for such a big man, then drew her around to face him. Holding her hand in a death grip, he dropped his other to her waist, drawing her too close for comfort.
“It’s easy. Just loosen up and trust me.”
Trust him? Right. He was breaking rules here, forcing her to deal with him in a way they hadn’t dealt with each other before. And it didn’t help that the band played a slow song, which meant he tucked her so close she could feel each shift and flex of muscle as he led her through some slow steps.
“See, Harley, you move fine.”
Moving just fine would have meant heading back to the table. Or better yet, New Orleans. Being forced to stand in his arms while her body reacted to their closeness—no matter how hard she willed it otherwise—was just plain torture.
She could deal with Gerard being an idiot, but she couldn’t deal with being attracted to him. This chemistry sweeping through her, this rush of awareness so strong she half expected to feel wind whip around them, shouldn’t be happening. Worse yet, she wasn’t the only one feeling it. Gerard’s gaze grew smoky, a look that hinted at moon-soaked nights and sex.
This was ridiculous. They really couldn’t stand each other. The man went out of his way at work to challenge her. His ego had a rough time dealing with the fact that she—a woman who hadn’t had the benefit of his privileged upbringing—had more experience on the job than he did. This blue-blooded man who was used to his pedigree paving his way.
“I don’t like dancing with you,” she said.
“I do. You feel nice.”
To emphasize his point, he tightened his arm enough to tilt her off balance and press their thighs together. She had no choice but to arch against him and neither his slacks nor her gown did a damned thing to shield her from his hard muscles smothering her. Every nerve ending ignited with the contact, tempting her with an awareness so intense that she’d never felt the like, that she didn’t want to feel.
“Knock it off,” she muttered. “Or I’ll drop you right here.”
“You might have gotten me yesterday, but I wouldn’t exactly call it a sure thing.”
“The only thing saving you is that you’re not worth losing my job over. Josh will have something to say if we cause a scene.” She tried to put some distance between them, but he only tugged her closer. “You’re holding me too close, Gerard. We
