paying for it.” He picked up a bottle of Scotch and poured himself just enough to fill the bottom portion of the glass. “Drink?”
“Soda?” she asked.
He raised his eyebrows. “Soda?”
“I have a one-drink limit if I’m going out in public. My mother’s rule, but in cases like this, I’ve always found it to be a good one.”
“Have you?” he opened the fridge that was set into the bar and produced a little glass bottle of lemon-lime soda.
“I’ve seen too many starlets sprawled out on the floor at a big party after too much heavy drinking.”
He looked down at her, his lips curving upward. “Sprawled on the floor, eh?”
She pushed her shoe on the rest of the way and pulled herself up, tugging the hem of her dress down. “A clumsy moment isn’t the same as getting completely drunk and making an ass out of yourself in public.”
“Relax. Have a soda, it’ll calm your nerves. Well, it won’t, but here you go.” He picked up the bottle and walked over to her, putting the cool glass in her hand.
She was surprised that it still felt cold. After being in his hand she’d half expected it to be hot. From him, his skin. And good grief, but he was handsome.
Rugged and polished at the same time, totally put together while maintaining a slightly dangerous edge. It was the glimmer in his brown eyes, the sort of devilish look that told a woman he knew how to be bad at just the right moments….
And here she was turning Ethan Grey into some kind of simplistic fantasy. She was too innocent when it came to men and she knew it. It was too easy to imagine she could handle him when she knew nothing could be further from the truth. When it came to sexual games, she couldn’t compete with him.
But at least she’d be comfortable at the party. At least there she’d be in her element. More than she’d been since her world had crashed, burned and crumbled at her feet.
“Thank you,” she said, suddenly feeling very thirsty. As if she’d swallowed sawdust.
Ethan pushed his dark hair off his forehead, leaving it disheveled. Her fingers itched to put it back in place. She gripped the bottle tighter.
“Just about ready then?” he asked.
“Um … Yes. Ready.”
If she just thought about the party, and not how it would feel to run her fingers through Ethan’s hair, she just might make it through the night.
Ethan watched Noelle’s eyes as they entered the grand ballroom, all decked out for the kind of pretentious party he didn’t care a fig about. Her eyes were lit up, like everything else in the room. It was the brightest he’d seen her since the day he’d first met her, pale and drained in the foyer of her home.
This was the sort of party his mother had lived for. He remembered her looking the same way, getting ready to go somewhere, getting out of the house. It was the only thing that had made her smile. When she could go to an event and shine. When she could bask in the glow of her dimming fame and receive some form of adoration. The adoration he’d given her had never seemed to matter.
And his father … he had been too consumed with chasing after another woman. Lavishing his affection on her. Making an ass of himself and embarrassing all of them because he couldn’t control his libido. He’d never seen how being easy was supposed to make a man more virile, more of a man. In his estimation, control counted for a lot more.
And Damien Grey had never possessed any sort of control when it came to women. But Ethan was different. When it came to relationships, he was in charge. It began and ended when he wanted it to, and if he didn’t have the time to invest in a relationship, he simply didn’t.
Of course, now he was paying for the long bout of celibacy.
“Like it?” he asked, his throat tight.
Her arm was draped through his, her hips brushing against his as she walked. Every stroke of her soft curves was like getting licked by a flame. He had thought her insipid that first day … but tonight he was seeing the real woman.
She was beautiful, perfectly made-up with her blond hair pinned into a low bun and the fitted black dress skimming her curves. He’d just about swallowed his tongue walking into the room and seeing her sprawled on the floor, long shapely legs exposed up to the tops of creamy, toned thighs.
He couldn’t remember the last time the sight of a woman’s legs had gotten him so hot.
Disgust rolled through him. Was he really letting her get to him so easily? Just because she had feminine curves and a hot pair of legs? She was also the daughter of the woman who had torn his life apart. There should be no attraction there. He should look at her and see Celine Birch. And yet he didn’t.
Attraction or not, he wouldn’t act on it. He wasn’t his father. He thought with the brain in his head, not the one in his pants.
“It’s lovely. Amazing. Whose party is it?”
He realized he hadn’t told her. He used that much-needed distraction to get his body back under control. “Birthday party. One of the big important socialite types.”
“Which one?”
“Sylvie Ames.”
“Oh, I played at one of Sylvie’s birthdays. Her sweet sixteen. I remember it.” Her cheeks flushed pink and she seemed to shrink a little bit beside him.
“When was that?”
“More than ten years ago.”
“How old were you?” She seemed too young to have been doing anything on a grand scale ten years ago. Or even three years ago.
“I was eleven.” She had been too young. He’d known she’d been a famous child, had even had a vague concept of who she was when his father had been sleeping with Celine, her mother. But it hadn’t really struck him until that moment just how vulnerable she would have been.
“That’s quite impressive,” he said. Scanning the crowd, trying to keep his mind on picking out the possible paparazzi that might be sprinkled throughout. He needed to get his picture in the papers. That was the whole point of tonight, after all. Not to think of Noelle, in front of so many people at such a young age. Exposed to all manner of criticism.
He shouldn’t care. But he found that he did.
“Oh yeah, fabulous. I’ve burned through the career of the lifetime and hit the point of redundancy at twenty-two. Hooray for me.”
“Why is it you think you’re redundant?” He broke from looking into the knot of people and turned his focus on her.
“Well, let’s see. I’m broke. Instant noodles is fine dining in my home and … oh yeah, I just took a position as a man’s fake future bride in order to keep myself from having to move into a cardboard box.”
“Honestly, I will never be able to fathom women’s moods.”
Her
