Jules watched as he walked swiftly across the room to where Mona Underwood stood. Jules glanced down at her watch, and although she didn’t want to, she glanced over to where Dalton was standing and saw him glancing down at his watch, as well. Like her, he was probably counting the minutes before the newlyweds left for their honeymoon so he could split.
Dalton glanced up and snagged her gaze. Jules tilted her head, lifted her chin and regarded him with all the loathing she could muster. The bastard had the nerve to smile. She shook her head in disgust as she turned, deciding to check out the live entertainment. If he wanted to stare, let him stare at her back.
The jazz band sounded great, and everyone appeared lively and festive. She was glad Shana had ditched the idea of a small wedding and had gone all out. She deserved it. Like Jules had told her sister, she wouldn’t be the first pregnant bride or the last. Besides, few people knew about her sister’s condition, and frankly, it wasn’t any of their business.
“Nice band, isn’t it?”
Jules froze. She cut her gaze away from the musicians to the man who’d come to stand beside her. The rough, manly texture of his voice grazed her insides, suddenly making her feel so hot that she was tempted to fan herself. His eyes were penetrating, and it felt as if he were looking at her naked. She’d never felt self-conscious about anything she wore; she liked dressing up and showing off her body. Knowing she looked desirable to a man was no big deal to her. But not with this man. She didn’t need or want his attention.
“The day is almost over,” he added after getting no response from her. His voice had shifted to a smooth yet husky tone, sending shivers up her arm. “We pulled it off, being on our best behavior and all, so I thought I’d come over and say hello.”
She was tempted to tell him what he could do with his hello. Instead, she took a sip of her wine to help fight off the sensuous dominance radiating off him. It took every ounce of fortitude she had to hold his gaze, pretending nonchalance when she was so aware of him. Her body’s reaction to him made her livid with him as well as with herself. “I can’t believe your audacity,” she said in a low, cutting tone.
His smile was slow and seductive. “Yeah, I do have balls, don’t I?”
Now why did he go there? Her gaze lowered to the area below his well-proportioned waist. He had an incredible masculine build that not only made her speculate about his balls but also about every single inch of him. She snatched her focus back to his face and watched his eyes darken at the same time his mouth spread into one of those gotcha smiles. He’d realized what she’d been thinking when her gaze had dropped.
“Look, Dalton,” she said in a stern voice, while trying not to make a scene. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t like you.”
He chuckled, and instead of irking her, the sound sent a small quiver humming up her spine. “Then that makes us even, Jules, because I don’t like you, either.”
*
Although he might not like her, he did want her, Dalton admitted, staring at her with an intensity he hoped she found unnerving. He could envision all the things he would do to her if he ever got the chance. She was the cause of many sleepless nights and the loss of his peace of mind. Even worse, she was stopping him from desiring other women. Whenever he saw Jules, her level of femininity struck a blow to his libido, mainly because what he saw in her was something he would never get.
Bullshit.