"Annie, are you okay?" he asked as he came up behind her.
She swung around at him, her hair shimmering in the chandelier light, her eyes hot now, fiery where before they'd been ice. "I'm fine. I have to tell you, this isn't how this sort of thing would go down in my hometown. Someone would stand up and demand to know what the devil Sarah's been up to the last five years, whether she ran off with Vic Denardo, or why she can't buy a decent dress. Why she had to show up at the annual dinner of the foundation set up in her niece's honor. There wouldn't be all this dancing around the real issues." She gulped some of her champagne, her hands shaking. "But that's why you chose tonight, isn't it? Because you knew she wouldn't be attacked."
"That's one reason," he said carefully.
"And me." She drank more champagne, sipping this time. "You were sparing me too. You knew people would control their emotions in such a public setting. And the emotions are running high, aren't they? You can feel them. Even Cynthia—she wanted to rip our heads off for pulling such a fast one on her and her husband. But she held back."
Garvin ached to soothe her, make her smile. "Is it so bad to want to spare you?"
"I want to go home," she said abruptly. Tears sprang to her eyes. "I don't belong here."
"Annie—"
"This isn't anything I need to witness. Staying through dinner —" She shuddered. "I just can't."
"Annie, by midnight everyone in San Francisco will know Sarah Linwood's back in town. It'll be on the evening news. Vic Denardo will hear about it and know he doesn't have to go through you. He'll leave you alone. We just have to get through the evening."
She marched over to a waiter, dropped her glass on his tray, and marched back to him, her spine rigid. "I just can't stay, Garvin. Please understand."
He gave a curt nod, his stomach knotted. He'd warned her about not coming tonight, but he supposed this wasn't the time for an I-told-you-so. "All right."
"I'll call a cab."
"I can drive you—"
She shook her head. "You can't leave Sarah. It wouldn't be right."
Whipping her shawl onto her shoulders, she threaded her way through the crush of people back to the double doors. Garvin hesitated, cursed, and then was on her heels. "Annie, wait," he said. "It won't take long for me to run you up to your apartment."
She kept walking. "It's not necessary, Garvin. Really." Her tone was pragmatic, the independent New Englander doing her thing. "I'll be fine. Just go on back and have dinner and watch everyone stare at Sarah and wonder if she went nuts in the past five years."
They were out in the hall, away from the noise and the prying eyes, and he could sense Annie's ambivalence about tonight and how much she cared about the eccentric painter she'd befriended. It went beyond what Sarah Linwood could do for Annie's Gallery.
"Annie, most of the people in that room have known Sarah for decades. Once the initial shock of seeing her in red corduroy wears off, they'll realize, as I did, that they're not that surprised after all. I wasn't about to ask Sarah to meet John and Cynthia in private. That would have been asking too much. This way—" He broke off, glancing back at the dining room. "Frankly, I think a part of her's having the time of her life being on center stage."
Annie was unmoved. "All the more reason I should go home."
The light from the chandeliers caught her eyes, bringing out the pain in them, the fierceness of a woman determined to carry on with her life no matter what, even falling for a man she believed would steamroller her to get what he wanted. Her skin seemed less pale than it had, and her mouth—her mouth he could have lost himself in for a long time. He couldn't tear his gaze from her.
"You know what I think, Annie?" He spoke in a low voice, tension gripping him. "I think you know you're not in this thing alone and it throws you. Hell, it scares you."
"That's ridiculous. I'm just being practical—"
"Uh-uh. The more I think about it, the more I know it's true. A part of Sarah's reasoning—a part of my reasoning—for being here tonight is to try and keep you from harm. And it rocks you right to your core that we'd go through this even partly for you."
"Horsefeathers." She hunched her shoulders together, clutching her shawl in front of her. "Tonight is about one thing and one thing only—Vic Denardo."
"You're wrong, Annie."
"And you're deluding yourself, Garvin. You said yourself I shouldn't trust you. You said you'd run roughshod over me to get to him. Now I'm going home. As you say, word about Sarah will probably reach Vic Denardo before long. Maybe he's already on his way over here." She cast Garvin a cool, knowing look. "And wouldn't that suit you fine? But if you're still worried about me, don't be. I have good neighbors, I have Otto, and I can call 911."