Cartwright. We just wanted to say you’ve put together another wonderful party.”
He turned to the couple at his elbow and recognized them as big donors from last year. Spinning through his brain, he was relieved to come up with their names. “Mr. Adams. Mrs. Adams. Thank you, but my office manager organized it. I just show up. I’m glad you decided to come again this year.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mr. Adams said.
“Yes, we had a lovely time last Christmas and your foundation is doing such good things. We had a nice talk with Hope, here, who shared a few adoption stories that made us want to contribute even more. What a challenging job being a midwife must be.”
“It can be,” Hope said. “But of course it’s tremendously rewarding to help bring new life into the world, and help the parents as well.” She looked up at Aaron, and the admiration in her eyes surprised him. “Dr. Cartwright’s work is both challenging and impressive. He helps parents have children who didn’t think they could, and this wonderful foundation brings new families together in other ways.”
Aaron nearly fidgeted under the admiring gazes of all three of them. It was the school of hard knocks, not heroism, that motivated the work he did.
“Well, we’re very impressed with it,” Mrs. Adams said. “And now we’re going to enjoy the decadent things on that dessert table.”
After another handshake, they wandered off and Aaron turned to Hope. “Thanks for talking with them. Maybe you’ve veered onto the wrong career path, and sales and marketing are your real calling.”
“Selling things I’m excited about? Easy. Selling itchy socks or bad-tasting toothpaste just because it was my job? I’m pretty sure I’d be an utter failure at that.” The humor in her gaze, the sheer intelligence, drew him closer without even realizing he’d gone there.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, resisting a sudden urge to reach out and sweep away a tendril of hair that had slipped across her eye. Maybe she’d seen him staring at its silkiness, as her slender fingers lifted to her face, shoving it aside. Fingers that weren’t wearing anything resembling a wedding ring.
And that knowledge kindled the hot spark of interest he’d felt the second she’d walked into the room. “I’d suggest again we share some champagne to eliminate all thoughts of bad-tasting toothpaste, but don’t want to be pushy about drinking if you don’t want to.” Champagne was nice, but holding Hope Sanders close in his arms? An entire case of Dom Pérignon couldn’t begin to compare to that kind of ambrosia. “So how about dancing with me instead?”
“Perhaps you haven’t noticed they’ve just finished up a swing tune and aren’t playing at the moment.”
“That’s funny, I hear music. Don’t you?” That fate she’d talked about played right into his hand as a slow song began to echo around the room. She dazzled him with another smile as he reached for her hand, folding its soft warmth within his. He led her onto the floor, and the number of people crowding it made holding her fairly close a necessity he was more than happy about. “This kind of music is more my speed anyway, when it comes to dancing. Which for me mostly consists of rocking from one foot to the other, I’m sorry to say. Not my best talent.”
“So what is your best talent?”
There was almost a seductive quality to her voice and the amazing blue of her eyes looking into his robbed him of breath. He was pretty sure she didn’t realize the way she’d asked the question, and he fought down the desire to press her body even closer to his, along with an offer to show her one of them.
“Hmm, that’s a tough one. I’m good at my job, but I’m not sure that qualifies as a talent. I can kick a mean soccer ball and used to throw a damn good football spiral, too.” He lowered his head close to her ear, and her soft hair tickled his temple. “But probably my best talent?”
“I think I’m sorry I asked.” Her voice was a little breathy, and the sexy sound of it sent him sliding his palm from between her shoulder blades down to just above the curve of her shapely behind, bringing her body closer to his.
“Sorry, why?”
“Afraid that maybe your talent is something my innocent ears can’t handle.”
“Are your ears innocent?” He studied her, amused and curious. Innocent, no, as she clearly was used to sophisticated banter. But there was something guileless about her, a sweetness and sincerity that went beyond appealing. “Don’t worry, I’m a gentleman. Your ears are safe.”
Their bodies swaying together in a fit so perfect it was hard to tell where his body began and hers ended, they danced in silence for long minutes. Her sweet scent filled his nose, and he closed his eyes and breathed her in, holding her close enough to feel the brush of her breasts against his chest. Her forehead grazed his chin and her hand was tucked into his and pressed to his sternum as if they knew each other much better than two people who had met only ten minutes ago.
Aaron had been with quite a few women in his life, and he found himself studying the curve of her ear, the smoothness of her skin, trying to figure out what, exactly, made this feel somehow different. Had he ever felt a connection this instant and intense with anyone before? Or was he just not remembering?
The music drew to a close and they slowly separated, their eyes meeting. Her lips were parted, her skin seemed a little flushed, and it took every ounce of willpower for Aaron to remember they were in a public place in the middle of a hundred people. To remember he couldn’t pull her back into his arms and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.
“You still haven’t told me,” Hope said, apparently trying to bring normalcy back to the moment, replacing the chemistry that was pinging hot and fast between them.
“Told you what?”
“What your best talent is.”
Damn if the curve of her lips wasn’t pure temptation. Temptation to try to impress her by showing her at least one answer to that question.
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