then. Violet had had a lot of practice looking this good in fifteen minutes.
She turned around to look at him, smiling a soft smile. And just like that, Gavin felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Because when she smiled that way, without artifice or inhibition, she went beyond beautiful. That naiveté was back, but with it was an innocence and purity that he would have thought impossible to fake. For the first time, he could see why men would pay money, and lots of it, to bed her. Because bedding Violet would make a man feel like he was her very first, that no man had come before him, that he would leave an indelible impression on her that would outstay any man who came after him.
Maybe that wasn’t exactly a PC way of thinking these days, but there it was just the same. A lot of men were still attracted to the notion of virginity. And if that virgin happened to know a lot about sex and was an eager partner, all the better. No wonder Violet’s memoir had so many chapters in it. God knew how many men had come before Gavin.
His thinking halted him in his tracks—literally, since he had been about to step forward to escort Violet into the room. How could he be thinking about how many men had come before him, unless he was thinking about becoming one of Violet’s men?
He didn’t have time to ponder that further, because her smile increased, revealing a small dimple on one cheek that was. Damn. The only word he could think to describe it was enchanting, even though that was a word he normally, manfully, avoided.
“After blackmailing me to come to this thing,” she said, “are you going to stand in the hallway all night?”
Well, no. Not when there were other rooms he’d much rather make use of. He’d been to the Steepletons’ house many times since meeting Richard a decade ago, and he knew for a fact that they had eight bedrooms in their Lakeshore Drive mansion. Gavin even had intimate knowledge of two of them, since he’d made use of them with his date during every party he’d attended here. He had intimate knowledge of the Steepletons’ master bathroom, too. And one of the coat closets. And their gazebo. And a window seat in the dining room behind a pair of heavy drapes.
Good times. Good times.
“After you,” he said to Violet now.
He splayed his hand at the small of her back, the warmth of her skin seeping through the soft fabric and into his fingers. The dress was so clingy, it was almost as if he were touching bare skin, which naturally made him wonder if Violet was as silky and creamy under her dress as the rest of her seemed to be.
The moment he touched her, however, she surged forward and away from him, almost as if he’d been holding a hot poker. So Gavin stepped forward, too, this time barely stroking her back with the tips of his fingers. Even that scant brush of contact made her twitch, but she didn’t pull away from him this time. He gave her a moment to get used to the connection, then he moved forward once more, until scarcely a breath of air was between them.
Lowering his head to her ear, he said, very softly, “Don’t flinch when I touch you, Violet. And don’t pull away. You’re my date, which means we are intimately involved. Don’t do anything that will make others doubt that, or I’ll have to reconsider my offer.”
“Your offer was only to reconsider in the first place,” she replied without turning around, her voice as quiet as his. But she sounded a little breathless, which, for some reason, made Gavin feel a little breathless, too. “How can you reconsider a reconsideration?”
“You’ll find out if you do a bad job convincing everyone here that you’re crazy about me and that we’re only here long enough to make an appearance, after which we’ll be escaping to have sex for the rest of the night because you can’t keep your hands off me.”
Now she turned around to face him fully, splashes of pink blossoming on each cheek. The blush was back. The surprising, alluring, strangely erotic blush. Gavin managed to keep his breathing in check, but wasn’t quite as successful controlling another part of himself—a part he’d as soon not be losing control of at the moment, since the cut of his jacket was such that it wouldn’t hide his condition.
“Now wait just one minute,” she whispered. “There was nothing in this deal that said I had to pretend we’re sexually involved. I’m supposed to be your date.”
Gavin smiled at that. “Sweetheart, it’s a given that any woman who’s dating me is also sleeping with me. I assumed you knew that, since it’s the same thing you wrote about Ethan.”
She opened her mouth to respond to that, evidently thought better of what she had intended to say, and snapped her lips shut. Pity. He’d started to have all kinds of good ideas for that open mouth. Of course, none of them had involved talking.
He urged her forward, this time wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. Screw the courtesies. It wasn’t like he’d ever been big on courtesies with other women. Why should Violet be any different? Especially since she wasn’t the sort of woman who commanded courtesy to begin with.
Ah, dammit, where was the bar?
He found it immediately, tucked into the same corner of the ballroom where the Steepletons always put it, and he steered Violet in that direction. Before he could even ask her what she wanted, she requested a glass of champagne from the bartender, who poured it with great flourish before handing it to her with a smile. She smiled and thanked him warmly, then lifted the glass to her lips for a sip before declaring it delicious and thanking the bartender again. When the man turned to Gavin, Gavin barked out an order for his favorite Scotch, taking it from the man’s extended hand without acknowledgment and guiding Violet toward a small pocket of people on the other side of the room.
“You know, you were very rude back there,” she said as they threaded their way through the crowd.
Gavin had no idea what she was talking about. “What? When?”
“The bartender,” she said. “You didn’t even thank him for your drink.”
“Why would I thank a bartender for doing his job?”
“Because it’s a nice gesture,” she said. “Because it makes someone in that position feel appreciated.”
“Who cares if he feels appreciated? He’s a bartender. It’s not like he’s trying to cure cancer or bring peace to a war-torn country.”
“No, but he made this party more enjoyable for you by fixing you a nice drink. Therefore, you should thank him.”
How could she possibly care about the hired help? Gavin wondered. Who even noticed the hired help? They were invisible. Or would be, if she would stop carping on them.
“Come on,” he said, striving to make the bartender invisible again. “There are some people over here who need to see you with me.”
He wasn’t sure, but he thought she growled under her breath at that. Which, truth be told, he found kind of erotic. But then, there was little about Violet tonight that he didn’t find erotic, so maybe that wasn’t surprising.
“This won’t take long,” he told her. “Nod and look sexy for a few minutes, and then we can move on to another group. If everything goes smoothly, and you play your part well, then I can have you out of here and home before midnight. Just like Cinderella.”
Six
Cinderella. Yeah,
