You look like Mom.”
Daisy’s eyes welled with tears, and she looked at the ceiling, stared at the bubble-dome light fixture and counted to ten, counted to keep the tears from blinding her and ruining her mascara. “Mom was so much prettier than me,” she said, voice husky. “Mom was Miss Texas.”
“You look like Miss Texas.”
“Stop, Zoe. You’re going to ruin my makeup.”
Her sister laughed, and then they were hugging. “Have fun, Daisy. Show Lexington we’re still the best.”
Carter smiled his approval when Daisy descended the stairs. “I wish you’d wear dresses more often,” he said as he escorted her to his car, a big black Rolls-Royce. “You look like a real lady in dresses.”
She smiled tightly. “Thank you.” But she didn’t want dresses and the life of a Southern lady.
“I could make you happy, Daisy.”
Already he was referring to a life together. She knew it would happen but hadn’t expected the pressure to start so early. “Let’s just enjoy the party, okay?”
Ten minutes later they were turning off the main road, heading down the Lindleys’ private drive. Through the thicket of trees Daisy could see the white canvas party tents dotting the endless manicured lawn, the enormous tents shimmering with light.
Daisy had expected gawking. She’d expected a few scandalized whispers, but not the turn of every head as she and Carter made their appearance. People were staring. Everyone was staring. Openly.
Even for Daisy it was tough to bear. Yet when the whispers reached her ears, whispers about her father and speculation that they’d lost everything because he was a drunk and a gambler, she found her spine and her strength. Instead of cowering she grew taller, lifted her chin higher. She refused to crawl beneath a rock and hide. They didn’t know the first thing about the Collingsworths.
They moved through the crowded ballroom to the stone terrace at the back of the house. From the terrace there was another flight of stairs to the party tents on the lawn.
The moon was high, and the evening felt warm. It was a perfect night for a party.
“A drink?” Carter asked, placing his hand on her arm.
“Please.”
“Cocktail or wine?”
Daisy forced a smile, even as she wished he’d take his hand off her arm. She didn’t dislike Carter but she didn’t welcome his touch. “Anything.”
“All right, wait here,” he said, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it.
He left her at the balustrade. Daisy stood at the low stone wall and gazed down on the lawn. Throngs of partygoers moved below. Tuxedos surrounded by glistening ruby, gold, sapphire gowns. The fabrics of the gowns were equally luxurious, dresses made of silk, chiffon and velvet. The ladies shone like exotic jewels next to the men in their formal black tie.
Leaning forward, she watched one man make his way through the crowd. He was tall, taller than the rest, and very broad through the shoulders. She couldn’t see his face, but something deep inside her turned inside out.
Dante Galván.
He was walking slowly, greeting people now and again, shaking hands with one older gentleman before acknowledging another.
Even from the terrace he looked too tall, too strong, too imposing. He didn’t creep through life, she thought faintly. He dominated it, dictated it, drove it.
How long she watched him, she didn’t know, but then slowly he turned, and as if aware of her, looked up. His gaze immediately riveted on her.
Her breath suddenly caught in her throat. She’d thought all men looked handsome in tuxedos, but Dante Galván defined one. The black silk tie set off his Roman nose and chin, the white shirt played up the bronze in his coloring and the elegant cut of the jacket gave him old-world glamour.
He was beautiful. Too beautiful.
His gaze seemed to embrace her. He was taking her in, studying every detail, from the strands of her loose silvery blond hair to the tips of her white satin heels, before inching up to rest on her silver sequin halter top with its plunging décolleté and skimpy coverage.
She was sure he could see beneath the flimsy fabric, was sure he was aware she’d gone braless. A peculiar curl of warmth centered in her belly, extending in bright tingling rays, heating her skin, gathering in her breasts and creating an ache deep within her pelvis.
She’d never felt such an intense physical response before—and all he’d done was look at her.
Daisy couldn’t move. Dante remained at the bottom of the staircase. She wanted him to climb the stairs, join her on the terrace, but he waited where he was.
Nervously she took a step down the marble stairs and then hesitated, nerves on edge. He wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t moving. He was simply waiting for her.
She was nearing the bottom of the stairs. Her legs felt like Jell-O, but suddenly she didn’t think she could take another step. “Won’t you say anything?” Her voice sounded strangled.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Whatever you’re thinking.”
“Really?”
“Might as well tell me what’s on your mind. I know you asked me here tonight, and yet here I am with someone else—”
“I’ve been rejected before.” He was smiling faintly and his expression was wry.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Do I dare ask about Kentucky Kiss?”
Her throat sealed closed. Heat burned across her cheekbones. “No,” she whispered.
“I see.” He cocked his head, studied her intently, his gaze so hard and real it was almost a physical thing. “That doesn’t leave us much to talk about.”
Daisy’s heart fell, plummeting to her stomach and then all the way down. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t justify the disappointment, it just was. “You’re angry.”
“No. I’m curious, and a little surprised, but definitely not angry. How could I be angry with you? You look—” and his mouth twisted into a lazy, sinful smile “—incredible. Good enough to eat.”
It was true, Dante thought, as she took a step closer. She was putting ideas in his head, making him want to try things he was quite sure she’d never done before.
He watched her descend the rest of the staircase, focused on the swing of her hips, the shape of her legs, the slight bounce of her breasts. He’d bet a thousand dollars she wasn’t wearing a bra, and it made him ache to touch her, to slide his hands up her back, around her rib cage and cup her breasts. He wanted to feel her body, her skin, her incredibly lush curves.
“I’m
