she dared risk finishing them. She really needed chocolate about now. Maybe when Mr. Gorgeous left…. “I think there’s a keg in the corner,” she said.
He made a face. “Not that American piss. I mean a real beer.”
The conviction in his voice almost made her laugh. “Let me guess—you mean an Australian beer.”
“Accent gave me away, did it?” He grinned. His middle upper tooth was slightly crooked, as if it had been knocked loose at some point and never quite fixed in place. Rachel’s stomach fluttered. Since when had crooked teeth been sexy? Obviously, since now.
“Who are you?” she asked. Despite the suit, he didn’t remotely resemble the usual cadre of executives associated with Denton Morrison.
“Name’s Garret Kelly.” He offered his hand. A large, warm hand that engulfed hers. His grin widened. “Oops, feels like I missed a spot.” He held up her hand for inspection. “There it is, right by your thumb.”
Before she could protest, he bent his head low and drew her thumb into his mouth. This time, she did brace herself with a hand to his shoulder. She was dimly aware she was losing it badly—losing her dignity and focus and all those things she prided herself on. But she couldn’t seem to help it. Brash, brawny Garret Kelly—and his amazing tongue—had positively bewitched her.
He was doing more incredible things to her with his tongue when an all too familiar voice boomed in her ear. “I’m glad you two are getting to know each other, but do you think you could contain yourselves until you’re alone?”
Rachel jerked her hand from Garret’s grasp and jumped back, bumping into the buffet table, china and crystal chiming. “Mr. Morrison! This isn’t what you think!”
With his shaved head, single gold earring and suit tailored to hide his paunch, Denton Morrison resembled a genie turned corporate kingpin. Now he was grinning like a genie wacked out on fairy dust. “I think it’s perfect!” he chortled. “The press will love it.”
Rachel’s stomach sank to somewhere around her knees. Not a good sign that Denton was so gleeful. The only thing the billionaire liked better than money was publicity. She didn’t want to think what kind of angle he’d play with her and this Aussie Adonis. She glanced at the plate of strawberries longingly. What she wouldn’t give for another chocolate fix—alone.
Garret kept a grin fixed on his face while stifling a groan. He could blame his impulsive behavior on the champagne, but he’d only had one glass. Part of the credit had to go to the sheila in front of him. If she could be that passionate about a strawberry, imagine what she’d be like in bed.
What could he say? He was a man who had a great appreciation for the female sex. Particularly females with long tanned legs and abundant blond hair and curves in all the right places. Women who tasted of chocolate and smelled of expensive perfume, whose skin slid like satin against his mouth.
He shifted his stance, an inconvenient hard-on making him glad he’d worn fuller-cut trousers.
He glanced at the woman again and noticed the worried look she was shooting at Denton. She was exactly the kind of woman Denton went for, he realized with a frown. He hoped this one wasn’t another of Denton’s trophies, though since she was at his party, odds were she was. She certainly looked guilty enough over being caught with him.
“Rachel Westover and Wild Man Kelly—why didn’t I think of it before?” Denton slapped Garret on the back. The billionaire was grinning like a manic clown. Garret’s bullshit meter was pegged all the way to the right. What was Denton up to?
“Wild Man Kelly?” The woman—Rachel—had regained her poise and now studied him with a new skepticism in her green eyes. Garret’s frown deepened. He detested the nickname Denton had saddled him with, but it had already caught on with the press, so he was trying to learn to live with it.
“You’re looking at the star player on the new Dallas Devils lacrosse team,” Denton announced, slapping Garret on the back again.
Garret glared at Denton. Try that one more time, mate….
“Lacrosse?” Rachel looked puzzled.
“Indoor lacrosse,” Denton said. “Fastest growing sport in the country. The speed and high scoring of basketball, the rough stuff and athleticism of hockey.”
“And your newest acquisition,” Rachel said.
“Lacrosse is going to be big in Dallas,” Denton said. “And Wild Man is going to help make it that way. He was number one in scoring last year, number one in assists and number one in time in the penalty box. He’s a wild man! The fans love him, and so does the press.”
Garret wished he’d lay off. Denton made him sound like some kind of degenerate. “How do you know Denton?” he asked Rachel.
“She works for me,” Denton said before Rachel could answer. “I tell you, the two of you meeting is just perfect.”
Perfect for what? Garret wondered
“Speaking of the press,” Rachel put her hand on Denton’s arm. “I wonder if I might have a few words with you—alone.” She shot a look at Garret.
No one ever said he couldn’t take a hint. He nodded to Rachel. “Pleasure meeting you, Miss Westover.”
“I’m sure you two will be seeing each other again soon,” Denton said.
“Oh, no doubt of that.” Garret could still taste the chocolate on his tongue, still feel the satin of her skin against his mouth. He had every intention of looking her up again when they could be alone and really get to know one another.
TEACH BY EXAMPLE, praise good behavior, distract…substitute…reprimand…withhold…punish…restrict…reward…accept. Rachel’s advice played over and over in Moira’s head like a bad radio jingle. By the time she reached David she was sure the smile she gave him was strained. “Hi, sweetie,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you made it.”
“Yeah, well, I figured I’d better put in an appearance.”
“You look great,” she said, brushing a bit of lint from the shoulder of his sport coat. The fabric stretched across his muscular body. Though not too tall, he still had the stocky build of the football lineman he’d been in high school. A little heavier around the middle, but still very attractive, she thought.
He accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and started across the floor toward the buffet table, Moira in his wake. “Let’s grab some food and mingle a little, then we can bug out. The Stars drop puck at eight. I’d like to at least get home in time for the second period.”
Hockey. Moira rolled her eyes. Lately, David’s idea of a hot date was an evening on the sofa watching sports. They could cuddle during commercials, but otherwise interruptions were not welcome.
At the buffet, David filled a plate with food while Moira tried to figure out which of Rachel’s principles to use. She’d already praised him for showing up. Distraction?
“I thought maybe tonight we could do something different,” she said. “There’s a new club over in Deep Elum. The band is supposed to be great. I know you like discovering new music.”
