that I’d expected you to be a little more gracious in a social situation. Given your reputation for making people feel at ease and all. It certainly comes off on the screen.”
“Are you implying that I’m not making you feel at ease?”
She made him feel hot and slightly out of control and hornier than he’d felt in at least a year. “You could say so.” A pause. “Not that it matters. We only met today. Please.” He indicated the couple by the window, now chatting with a couple of guys in suits. “I don’t mean to keep you from your friends.”
“That’s my grandmother—my father’s mother—and my aunt and uncle.” The words came out slowly, as if she were reluctant to tell him anything personal, but now felt as though she had to in order to be polite.
“Are they here from Florida?” Again the narrowed eyes. “I did my research, Eve. That’s where you grew up, right?”
“Yes. And no, they’re not. All my dad’s family is here in Atlanta.”
His face relaxed into the first sincere smile of the evening. “It must be nice to have family so close. All mine are in New Mexico. I’m lucky to see them once every couple of years.”
“Planes fly both ways.”
“They do,” he allowed, “but after the November sweeps, things go crazy. I can never get out of New York during the holidays.”
She nodded slowly. “I know. Before she died, I only saw Nana—she’s the one who raised me—in the summer during our hiatus, and Florida in July is, well…”
“I know.” He took a breath as he caught a tune floating over the sounds of conversation. “Not to change the subject, but would you like to dance?”
“Dance?”
“Yes. An ancient rite performed in praise of the gods.” He surprised her into a smile, and his concentration fell into pieces. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he blurted.
Then he gave himself a mental slap and waited for her to walk away.
3
MITCH NEVER LOST CONTROL. He was always calm, cool and unbiased…which, now that he came to think of it, hadn’t been standing him in good stead lately. Was that why his last two bids for shows had fallen through? Because he hadn’t shown enough passion for the chase? For them?
Was that why his longest relationship in the last couple of years had topped out at six weeks?
Was that why he kept striking out with Eve Best?
But instead of rolling her eyes at his ineptitude, or sidestepping away as though he might be a stalker, Eve smiled again.
“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said all day,” she said, then held up a finger. “No, the second thing. The first thing was about your family in New Mexico. I’d love to dance. Thank you.”
Relieved and slightly dazed at this reversal of his expectations, he offered her his arm. She took it and they followed the sound of Duke Ellington into a massive glassed-in conservatory that had been converted into a ballroom. At one end, a big band played, perspiration trickling down the faces of the guys blowing trumpet and trombone. Fairy lights glittered in swaths along the wrought-iron ribs of the ceiling, and palm trees stood at intervals along the walls, with the windows opened to the night air. It felt like something out of the twenties, when mad young things danced the Charleston and the world held every possibility.
Maybe his world held possibility, too, Mitch thought as he whirled Eve into a spin and then took her in his arms. And he didn’t mean for business, either. Tonight he was an ordinary man dancing with a desirable woman, and he would leave business out of it and enjoy every second.
“So how long are you going to make me wait?” she asked.
The green silk of her dress moved gently under the hand he had flattened on the small of her back. Besides the heat of her body, he felt the movement of toned, controlled muscles and the beginnings of the curves of her hips.
“Wait?” He’d oblige her in the nearest closet, if she wanted.
“For CWB’s counteroffer. Didn’t you come here to talk business?”
Oh. He’d forgotten all about CWB.
“No. I came to contribute to Atlanta Reads. And to ask you to dance.”
“One out of two isn’t bad,” she murmured. He spun her into another turn and whirled her back. “Not that I believe either one.”
“Literacy’s a good cause,” he said. “My pet charity is Music on the Street.”
“Mmm, that’s three honest things. Tell me about it.”
“It’s a grassroots organization that teaches innercity kids an instrument. They play in a band that gives concerts on basketball courts, in gyms, wherever they can get space. We fund the instruments and the teachers, because the schools can’t.”
She leaned back to look into his eyes, and his thinking ran aground on that clear green gaze.
“What’s your instrument?”
He nodded toward the band. “Trumpet. Or it used to be. I’ve been racking up so many frequent flyer miles I’m way out of practice.”
“Security would probably confiscate your horn as a dangerous weapon, anyway,” she said with a twinkle. The music segued into a slower number and instead of thanking him and leading the way off the dance floor, she fit her body closer against his. He slid his arm farther around her waist and tucked the hand he held against his shoulder.
Whatever witty and self-deprecating comment he’d been about to make fizzled away into soundlessness. All he could think about was how good she felt in his arms—how warm and silky her skin, how intoxicating her scent. The weight of her breasts against his chest and the brush of her thighs as they moved together across the dance floor were making him crazy.
Making his body temperature rise.
And that wasn’t all.
“Mr. Hayes, I’m shocked,” she whispered, her lips close to his ear.
He had two choices. He could make a break for the door and hope he could bribe his way onto the next flight to New York, or he could brazen it out and hope the sense of humor she displayed on TV was real and not put on for the camera.
“I am, too,” he whispered back. “Usually I’m much better behaved than this. But then, I’ve never danced with you before. Now I know I have limits.”
She giggled, tried to choke it back, then seemed to give up. She threw back her head in an honest-to-God laugh. Both arms crept up around his neck.
“I meant I was shocked you weren’t going to counteroffer.” Her voice wobbled with laughter.
Oh, no. Could he just go into cardiac arrest right here and now? Maybe if he went out on a stretcher she’d look at him with pity instead of…what was this?
