once dictated that men wore black. Not these days. There were tuxedoes in many different colors, and the males in attendance were almost as flamboyantly clad as their female companions. The ladies, however, were also gleaming from the exquisite jewelry around their necks, in their hair, on their wrists and fingers, and anywhere else they could attach diamonds, emeralds, pearls and rubies to their person.
The limousine moved away and another vehicle immediately took its place. Andrea began walking toward the entrance and gasped in surprise when someone took her arm.
“Good evening,” Keith said, his lips brazenly close to her ear. “I wasn’t sure whether you would arrive alone or with an escort, so I’ve been out here watching for you. Since you’re alone, I’m appointing myself your guide, counselor, escort and buddy for this evening’s festivities.”
Despite her annoyance, Andrea couldn’t help but register his good looks, which shook her aplomb and irritated her no end. His tuxedo was a wonderful shade of tan that was almost exactly the color of his light-caramel-hued hair. The quirky smile that had captured her heart back in college was still his best feature, although his thickly lashed dark-brown eyes ran a very close second. Admiring and eventually drooling over Keith Owens’s good looks had caused her pain and heartache in her college years. Maturity had provided her with some advantages, thank goodness, one of which was an understanding of just how unimportant good looks really were. She’d figured that out only a few years after college, because the man she’d married had been wonderfully pleasant-looking but not drop-dead handsome, as Keith was. Frankly, everything about Keith galled her, especially his overbearing assumption that he could appoint himself her escort for the evening.
“I think not,” she said coolly, trying to pull her arm out of his.
“Think again. It’s only good protocol for our guest of honor to have an escort,” Keith said smoothly while giving her a head-to-foot inspection. She was utterly beautiful. In college she’d been pretty, with long black hair and dark-blue eyes. Hell, she’d been cute as a button when she’d been a kid, a fact he remembered very well because they’d grown up next door to each other. But cute and pretty simply weren’t the right words to describe how she looked now. Her figure was incredible, especially provocative in that two-piece ivory gown she was wearing. It fit like a dream, from its high neckline all the way down its classic lines to a hem incorporating one sexy slit that permitted brief glimpses of the lower portion of her left leg. It was a marvelous dress, Keith decided, its delightful color accenting Andrea’s hair and eyes. Her black hair was much shorter now, but its simple style was extremely becoming to her beautiful face.
“If I had wanted or believed I needed an escort, I would have invited a friend to accompany me this evening. Your protocol is about fifty years outdated. You may find this a major shock to your good-old-country-boy beliefs, but nowadays women actually walk and talk all on their own. Please let go of my arm.”
“I’ll let go of yours if you’ll take mine.”
“How about if I kick you in the knee, put you out of commission and get rid of you that way?”
“Resorting to violence already, are we?”
Andrea shook off his hand with one big jerk of her arm. “That’s enough childish horseplay!” She started walking toward the entrance, fully aware of Keith keeping up with her every step. He wasn’t going away, however rude she might be. She heaved a sigh. The evening was going to be as unbearable as she’d anticipated.
Inside the club there was a receiving line, and while Keith bantered and laughed with his friends greeting the arriving guests, Andrea smiled congenially, and furtively checked out the décor. It was as dreadfully macho as she’d been told. Was that a boar’s head over the mantel? She shook hands and made appropriate comments to people she recognized but just barely knew. Her friends were not members of this club, which admittedly did a lot of good for the community but was also known for some very rowdy escapades. Now that Andrea was inside she could tell that the band was playing some very lively songs, mostly with a country-and-western slant. Well, what did you expect? Schubert? Beethoven? Chopin?
“My dear, we’re all so proud of this year’s choice of charities,” an older woman, Janice Morrison, wife to a lifetime member of the club, said while gripping Andrea’s hand in a long handshake. Mrs. Morrison’s diamond necklace alone would have financed the operation of New Hope for five years, Andrea thought, although she certainly did not begrudge the congenial woman her astounding necklace. Andrea was wearing very little jewelry herself—a pearl-and-diamond ring and matching earrings—but she had some very good pieces in her safe. They were gifts from Jerry, her deceased husband, which was the only reason she kept them, because she hadn’t worn the items since his death.
“We at New Hope are both proud and delighted,” Andrea murmured. “Be assured that all donations will be put to very good use.”
“I’m sure they will. My, you two make a fine-looking couple,” Mrs. Morrison gushed.
The woman was gazing from her to Keith, and Andrea’s smile faded a little as she withdrew her hand. Keith saved the day by quipping, “We’re just a couple of old friends, Janice.”
Janice Morrison wasn’t convinced. “Who do you think you’re kidding, Keith Owens?”
Andrea wilted internally. Here was a lady with a long memory, and there were probably dozens of others attending the ball that also remembered when the Vances and the Owenses—her parents and Keith’s—had lived next door to each other. This time, when Keith took Andrea’s arm to steer her away from the receiving line, she felt too weak to protest. How in heaven’s name was she going to make it through an entire evening of innuendo and reminders and still keep on smiling?
“Sorry about that,” Keith said to her.
Andrea forgot about smiling and her eyes flashed angrily. “Why would you expect anything else when you’re sticking to me like glue?”
“Would you really rather be left on your own in this crowd?”
“I’d rather not give anyone the wrong impression!” Andrea glanced around. “Do you have any idea of how many people are looking at us right now?”
Keith glanced around himself, then grinned wickedly. “Quite a few, by the looks of it. Wonder what they’re whispering about. Maybe they’re wondering if we’re sleeping together.”
Andrea gaped at him. “Are you mad? We didn’t even sleep together when we dated!”
“That sure wasn’t my fault.”
“Of course it wasn’t. Since you had—and probably still do have—the morals of an alley cat.”
“Don’t tell me the subject of sex still embarrasses you. Andrea, you’re a big girl now. Actually, when I think about it, you were a big girl in college, but you had far too many hang-ups for a…” Keith wisely closed his mouth. He’d been about to say something about randy young college men, but decided to avoid that topic for the present. “How about a glass of champagne?” he asked instead.
“If I say no are you going to go off and find someone else to badger?”
“Nope.”
“Then yes, I’d like a glass of champagne.”
“Great.” Placing his hand on the small of her back, and enjoying a delicious tingle in his lower regions from the physical contact, Keith steered her through the crowd to one of
