she was in danger of falling flat on her face. She leaned tiredly against the hood of the SUV, tears threatening for the first time since the assault had begun.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The first one she’d managed in quite a while.
It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Now isn’t the time to fall apart.
“Are you all right?”
She opened her eyes to find him looming over her. Because they were standing between the beams of the headlights, she still couldn’t see his face.
He was nothing but a shape, tall and broad. And a deep voice, filled with concern for her.
Which was ridiculous. He’d just taken a beating, and she was the one who was weak-kneed and weepy.
“If being scared spitless counts as okay.” She hated that her voice trembled, but there didn’t seem to be much she could do about it.
“Spitless?” he repeated, the intonation amused as he emphasized the first syllable.
“Are they gone?” She ignored the mockery, feeling she had earned it. She looked back down the ramp, half expecting to see the attackers regrouping at its foot.
“They won’t be back. They’re the kind who like—”
“Easy pickings?” she supplied when he hesitated. If so, they’d come to the right place, she acknowledged bitterly.
“Obviously, they didn’t know about the shoe.”
The amusement was back, but she found she didn’t resent it, even if it were at her expense. He was right. The sandal was a ridiculous weapon, but there was some justification for why she’d felt it might do some good.
“I ground my heel into his toe, and he let me go. I thought that maybe if I hit one of them with it—”
She sounded like an idiot. Actually, she felt like one.
“Thanks.” The deep voice had been wiped clean of mockery. “There aren’t many people who would have put themselves at risk to help.”
“You did.”
“Yeah, well, that’s a failing of mine.”
“Helping people?”
“I’m a sucker for a woman in distress.”
For a fraction of a second she thought he’d said “a woman in a red dress.” She must be more rattled than she’d believed.
“Why don’t we get out of here,” he suggested.
Since he’d used the plural pronoun, she wasn’t sure if he meant individually or collectively. He didn’t start around his vehicle to open the door for her to climb in, so she supposed he must mean in their own cars.
He took a long assessing look down the ramp and then moved toward the driver’s side of the SUV. In doing so, he passed directly in front of the beam of the left headlight.
“You were at the auction,” she said, finally taking in the tuxedo.
“Sorry, but I didn’t buy anything.” He bent to retrieve the iron bar that had been lost in the scuffle, so she had to strain to hear the last. “A little too rich for my blood.”
Since the guest list had been carefully screened to ensure that their checkbooks would be equal to the task before them, she wondered if that was his idea of a joke. She’d been introduced to most of the attendees during the cocktail hour, but she couldn’t place him.
Could he be one of the wait staff? The big SUV he was driving made that unlikely, however, so who the hell was he?
After he retrieved the crowbar, he had continued past the driver’s side door to open the back of the vehicle. He carelessly tossed the weapon inside. Then he straightened, looking at her over the line of the roof.
His face was still shadowed, but she couldn’t help feeling there was something familiar about it. Maybe they had been introduced. After all, there had been a huge crowd of people.
“I’m Kelly Lockett.”
It was a rather obvious attempt to evoke information. If he’d been there, he knew certainly who she was. She’d been paraded around that room like a sideshow for most of the evening.
“Of the Lockett Legacy. I know.” The tone was sardonic.
“Do I know you?” she asked, reacting to it.
She had never been particularly self-conscious about the notoriety her family’s wealth and prestige created. She had known nothing else her entire life, but something about that comment rankled.
“I was there on a friend’s invitation. He said the food would be good.”
“I trust you found that to be true,” she said, a hint of ice creeping into her voice.
This man had rescued her, and she was genuinely grateful. Her initial inclination, which had been to view him as some kind of knight in shining armor, seemed to be fading.
Of course, she was well aware that most knights had been lacking in the courtly graces. Their forte had been the battlefield. She could hardly deny his skill there.
“You plan the menu?” He leaned forward, putting his arms on the top of the SUV.
“I was on the committee,” she said stiffly.
“Could I make a suggestion?”
“About the menu?” There was something surreal about the conversation, considering what had just transpired.
“Fewer frills and more substance.”
Despite her anger of a moment ago, she felt a tinge of sympathy. Dinner probably had seemed meager to a man his size. The appetizer had consisted of three large prawns, a dollop of crabmeat and a couple of avocado slices. The entrée, a nice piece of sole, had been surrounded by a selection of lightly sautéed vegetables. She had left food on her plate, but by no stretch of the imagination could the meal be called substantial.
“Steak and potatoes,” she said, deliberately lightening her voice.
“It’s hard to go wrong with a good steak. Especially at those prices.”
“I’ll ask the committee to take it under advisement,” she promised, controlling her urge to smile.
“Almost makes me wish I could be at next year’s shin-dig.”
Something subtle about his intonation indicated he was aware she was patronizing him. It made her feel like a jerk.
“What happened to your shawl?”
“Stole,” she corrected automatically, welcoming the change of subject.
Her eyes considered the concrete ramp that stretched in front of the SUV. Even with the headlights shining down
