A Cowboy in Manhattan

Chapter Eight

It turned out to be a wonderful dinner. Katrina was impressed with how Reed had held his own with Elizabeth and Brandon. He’d asked questions about the ballet company and had seemed genuinely interested in Brandon’s business ventures. She hadn’t realized he took such an interest in state politics or was so knowledgeable about international commerce and the impact of commodity and energy prices on global trade.

The more she hung around him, the more depths of his personality became apparent. For a guy who’d barely left Lyndon Valley, he seemed surprisingly worldly.

After dinner, they’d said goodbye to Elizabeth and Brandon and decided to take a walk along a pathway at the edge of the park. A canopy of trees arched over them, obscuring the streetlights and muting the sounds of traffic.

“I assume this is the part where I give you my jacket?” Reed asked, even as he shrugged his way out of it.

“This would be the time,” she agreed.

He draped it over her shoulders, and the warmth from his body seeped from the satin lining into her bare shoulders and arms.

He tugged the knot loose from his tie, popping the top button. “That was a nice restaurant.”

“Danielle didn’t steer you wrong.”

“I guess not.”

Katrina couldn’t help but be curious. Though she told herself to shut up, she couldn’t seem to stop the question from pouring out. “Why was it that you called her to ask about restaurants? I mean, it’s not like she’s a New Yorker.”

“The call was on an unrelated matter.” He removed the tie, turned to walk backward and looped it around her neck. “There. Now you’re accessorized.”

“Unrelated how?”

“As in, I didn’t call her specifically for a restaurant recommendation.”

He sure wasn’t making this easy.

“You called her on…business? Pleasure?” Katrina pressed as they made their way along the mostly deserted swath of concrete.

“Business.” He pointed through a gate to a bench overlooking the tulip gardens.

“Oh.” She shouldn’t feel so relieved. “Ranch business?”

“New York business.”

She altered her course. “You have business in New York?”

“I own part of a tailor shop and part of a bakery.” He waited for her to sit on the bench.

“Really?” Why hadn’t he mentioned that before? It seemed an odd thing to leave out, given their past conversations. “So, that’s why you’re here? To check on your businesses?”

He sat down beside her, slow to answer. “I’m here for a lot of reasons.”

The lamppost put him in light and shadow. His face was rugged, all angles and strength. His eyes were dark as they watched her.

She tried not to hope he was also here for her, but she couldn’t help herself. She had it bad for Reed Terrell, and no amount of reason or logic was going to change that. “Tell me the others.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

She shifted closer to his big body, and his arm moved to the back of the bench, creating a crook of space.

She tipped her chin to look at him. “Am I one of them?”

“Not in that way.”

“What way is that?”

“The way where you blink your baby-blue eyes, and part those cherry-red lips and make me forget I’m a gentleman.”

His words sent a hitch of desire through her chest.

“Am I doing that?” she asked.

“Don’t play coy.”

“I am coy. Or at least I was coy.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, lowering her voice to a tease. “Quite innocent, really. Until a couple of days ago.”

He fixed his gaze straight ahead. “Don’t remind me.”

“Why not?” It was only fair that he share her frustration. “I’ve been thinking about it constantly, reliving every minute, especially while I lay there alone, in my bed—”

Reed swore between clenched teeth.

“Tell me you miss it, too.”

He swore again.

She boldly put her hand against his chest.

His arm tightened around her shoulders, tugging her close while his lips came down, covering hers possessively. Her body responded with instant desire, kissing him back, twisting and pressing against him. Her arms wound around his neck, anchoring her as she tipped her head to better accommodate his overwhelming kisses.

After long, hot, sexy minutes, he rasped, “This is crazy. You’re crazy. I’m crazy. We’re playing with fire.”

“We’re adults,” she pointed out.

“Barely.”

“I can legally vote, drink and make love in any state in the Union.”

“Bully for you.”

“Reed. Get real. A fling is no different than a one-night stand.”

He went silent.

She took it to mean he didn’t have a rebuttal.

“I’ve had this fantasy most of my adult life,” she dared to say.

“I don’t want to hear this.”

She took one of his hands between hers. “It was about losing my virginity. I imagined it happening in a big bed, with fine linen, maybe flowers and candles.”

Guilt seemed to tighten his features. “Instead, you got me in a broken-down old line shack.”

She nodded, faintly surprised at her own willingness to play that particular card. “The you part was fine. But I wasn’t crazy about the line shack.” She screwed up her courage again. “We did it on your turf, Reed. Don’t you think it’s fair we do it again on mine?”

He gazed at their joined hands. “You think you can reason your way into making love again?” But his expression had softened. There was even a hint of a reluctant grin.

“Yes.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn.”

He came to his feet. “I’m trying to be respectful.”

She stood up, rounding to face him and placing a hand on his arm. Going for broke, she lowered her voice and put every ounce of vamp she could muster into her expression and tone. “Do me a favor, Reed. Respect me all night long.”

His gray eyes darkened, and the half smile disappeared. “And when I leave you in the morning?”

“I’ll probably jump off the balcony in sheer anguish and despondency.” She came up on her toes and kissed him. The first one was quick, but then she kissed him longer, and he responded, and once again they were wrapped in each other’s arms.

This time, when he set her away from him, he grasped her hand, tugging her to his side. They began walking silently back to the sidewalk, setting a beeline for the nearby Royal Globe Towers.

They crossed the opulent lobby, entered the elevator and were whisked to the top floor. Along the way, Katrina was afraid to speak, afraid to even look Reed’s way for fear of breaking the spell.

She shouldn’t have worried. The minute the suite door clicked shut behind them, he swept her into his arms. Even as he kissed her, he was pushing his jacket from her shoulders, tossing it, along with her purse, onto a nearby bench. The tie followed, and his lips roamed their way across her bare shoulder.

He hugged her tight, the heat of his body penetrating her silk dress. His hand closed over her breast, and sensation zipped its way through the center of her body, bringing a gasp to her lips.

He captured the sound with his mouth.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, pushing the dress farther down her shoulder. “Gorgeous.” He kissed her mouth. “Delicious.” He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking as the kisses continued. “Exquisite.”

A heady sense of power tripped through her. She felt for the buttons on his shirt, popping them through the smooth holes, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

She separated the halves of his dress shirt, tugging it from his slacks. Her dress slipped down to her waist, and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her breasts against his smooth chest.

He immediately lifted her into his arms, kissing her deeply and thoroughly, as he settled her against his chest, striding through the big suite, making his way into the master bedroom. The four-poster bed was turned down and a dim lamp glowed soft yellow in a far corner.

Reed set her on her feet, smoothing back her messy hair. “You want some champagne?”

She shook her head, pushing her dress to the floor.

In response, he slipped off his shoes. “A whirlpool bath?”

“No.” She stepped out of the silk in nothing but a pair of tiny, lacy, black panties, her shoes and the onyx jewelry.

His hand went to the button on his pants, flicking it open and dragging down the zipper. “Some music?”

She trailed her fingertips along the six-pack of his rock-hard abs. “What are you doing?”

“Romancing you.” He kicked off his pants along with everything else. He was beyond magnificent.

“Consider me romanced.” She sat down on the bed, lifting her foot, presenting him with the delicate sandal.

He slipped off one and then the other. He let her foot drop gently to the floor as he bent forward, taking her mouth with his, running his hands from her hips, to her breasts, splaying his thumbs across her peaking nipples as he gently laid her back on the bed.

He rolled onto his back then, so that she was on top. He stroked his hands down her spine, dipping below her panties, palming her bottom and rolling the delicate fabric down her legs.

She kissed his chest, tasting the salt of his skin, inhaling his smoky, masculine scent. Her hands roamed his chest, working their way down his body. She’d been nervous in the line shack, uncertain of whether to touch him or how or where. But now she was curious. She followed the contours of his body, his strong shoulders, thickly muscled arms, flat nipples, the indent of his navel and lower still.

After the briefest of moments, he sucked in a breath and captured her wrist, moving her hand from him.

“Hey,” she protested.

He turned her onto her back, trapping her other arm while his free hand began its own exploration.

“Not fair,” she complained on a guttural groan.

“Deal with it,” he advised, kissing her swollen mouth, his tongue delving deep while his caresses left scorching heat in their wake.

He moved from her nipples to her stomach, inching ever lower, finding more sensitive places until her breath was coming in gasps and her body arched.

“Reed,” she gasped. “Please.”

He reached for a condom.

Then he wrapped his arms fully around her, moving between her legs, gazing deeply into her eyes and gently kissing her brows, her lids, the corner of her mouth. He flexed his hips, pushing ever so gently inside.

“I don’t deserve this,” he groaned.

She tried to tell him he did, but her answer was swallowed by another deep, lingering kiss.

Instinct clouded her brain, while sensations radiated out from where their bodies were joined. He started slowly, but she urged him on with growing impatience. She wasn’t exactly sure how this was supposed to go, but slow definitely wasn’t working for her.

She clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck, her body rising to meet his while she kissed him frantically, moving from his mouth to his chin, before burying her face in the crook of his neck, sucking the taut skin, savoring the taste of him with the tip of her tongue. His hand went to the small of her back, lifting her to him, changing their angle, sending blinding sparks shooting through her body.

She gasped his name over and over again, wrapping her body around him, feeling them meld to one.

He picked up the rhythm, and she rode the crest of his wave, rising higher and higher, until a guttural groan was torn from her throat. Reed cried out her name, and fireworks went off behind her eyes, bursting over and over in impossibly vibrant colors.

An hour later, Reed had banished his guilt and self-recrimination to a far-flung corner of his brain, allowing himself to absorb the experience. Katrina was still naked, submerged now beneath the roiling water in the cedar hot tub on the hotel suite’s deck. The scattered lights of Central Park fanned out behind her, while the midtown towers rose up in the distance—a beautiful city framing a beautiful woman.

“So, what do you think of my world?” she teased, voice soft and sexy, tone melodious. A wineglass dangled from her polished fingertips. Her face was flushed and dewy, her hair mussed in a soft halo.

“It’s a pretty great world,” he responded, popping a rich dark truffle into his mouth.

Leafy green plants surrounded them, placed in huge, ceramic pots on the floor of the deck and in smaller containers on a variety of wooden shelves. A lattice screen delineated the hot-tub deck, offering privacy. Candles flickered on polished wood, on occasional tables and on nooks and crannies in the shelves around them.

He slid his calf along her smooth leg. He wished she’d come closer. He didn’t like her sitting so far away.

“View’s nice over here,” he told her.

“Is that a hint?”

“Absolutely.”

“Promise you won’t feed me another truffle?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, you like truffles, and I’m going to feed them to you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, mulishly screwing her face. “Then I’m not coming over there.”

“Oh, yes, you are.” Reed leaned forward, wrapping his hands around her rib cage, easily lifting her, pushing a wave through the tub ahead of her as he moved her to his lap.

“Hey!” She held her glass of merlot out to one side to keep it from spilling.

He settled her. “That’s better.”

The water sloshed back to level, and he retrieved his own glass of wine.

“You are impossible,” she huffed.

“Not my fault,” he defended, giving in to temptation and placing a soft kiss on her hairline. “I did try to talk you out of this.”

“The hot tub?”

“All of this. Coming to my hotel room. Making love again.”

“Oh, that.” Her body relaxed, curling into his. “I guess that was my first mistake.”

He loved it when she cuddled against him. She felt custom-made to fit his arms. Her hair held the subtle scent of wildflowers. Her skin was petal-soft. Her face was as beautiful as an angel’s.

“Or maybe it was my second mistake,” she mused, kissing his wet shoulder. “The first was forcing you to take me up to Brome Ridge to fix that broken pump.” She rubbed the water droplets on his bicep. “Then again, I suppose I never should have looked into your eyes that first day I came home. That’s where it all really started.” Her tongue followed her fingertips, swirling against his heated skin.

“You were attracted?” he asked, curious.

She nodded. “I could feel the sparks from across the room.”

“I was pretty much a goner then, too.” He sighed. “Why did you have to turn out so beautiful?”

Though beautiful didn’t even begin to describe her. She was smart and sassy and funny, and she messed with his hormones simply by breathing.

“It’s an anthropological defense mechanism,” she offered. “If I can’t accomplish any hard work, I can at least be decorative.”

“Stop that,” he told her gruffly.

“Stop what?”

“Quit insulting yourself. You work damn hard dancing.”

She gazed up at him, apparently unaffected by his angry tone. “Do you think you might be just a bit biased?”

“No.”

Some of the light went out of her blue eyes. “It’s not the same thing as being productive.”

Wanting to be clear on this, he sat up straight, moving her to face him.

She sorted her legs out and straddled his lap.

“It’s exactly the same thing. You’re an incredibly accomplished woman, princess. Your family, any family anywhere, should be thrilled and proud to have you as a member.”

A smile grew on her face, and she reached up to touch his cheek. Her hand was warm from the water. Her breasts rose above the frothy surface, nipples peeking in and out.

“Yet, you still call me princess.”

“Do you hate it?”

She shook her head. “Not when you say it.”

“Good.” He liked having a special name for her. He’d once meant it as derogatory, but those days had long since passed.

She gave a poignant smile. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

“Neither are you.” He’d thought she was spoiled, frivolous, skipping merrily through life on her looks, never giving a thought to anything beyond her own sphere of luxury. She was anything but that. She was a hard worker, a deep thinker, emotionally sensitive, easily hurt and acutely aware of the negative opinions ignorant people formed about her.

Their gazes met, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from kissing her. The kiss deepened and his arms wound around her. Her smooth body pressed intimately against his, heat building between them, tantalizing him, making him ache for her all over again.

He drew back sharply, his breath ragged, frightened by how close he was to throwing caution to the wind. “I am not making love to you without a condom.”

She downed the rest of her merlot, setting aside both of their glasses.

To his surprise, her eyes danced with amusement. She stroked the pad of her thumb across his lips. “Reed, darling,” she purred. “You have got to stop telling me things you won’t do.”

“You’re like a spoiled child.” But he didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it at all.

Despite her rebellious words, she obviously took pity on him, turning in his lap, sitting sideways, still tempting, but not nearly as dangerous.

“We’ll do it your way,” she agreed, looping her arms loosely around his neck and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Because I know we can’t make love right now. And I like it here with you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I want to make love. I really want to.”

“You’re killing me, Katrina.”

She sighed against him. “Get used to it.”

And that was the biggest problem of all. He was already used to it. He liked it here, too. The merlot was delicious, the truffles delectable, the view memorable and, if he had his way, he’d hold Katrina naked in his arms forever.

“You said they didn’t know who you were,” Reed challenged from where he stood in the glassed-in atrium of the harbor-tour cruise ship.

He was staring at the small magazine rack, the Statue of Liberty visible through the glass behind him.

“They didn’t,” she assured him, peering at the small square photo on the bottom corner of the tabloid newspaper. It had been taken last night as they exited the limo.

“Well, not last night, anyway,” she allowed “They must have looked it up later.”

“Katrina Jacobs on the town,” he read. “You want to buy it and read the story?”

“I don’t need to read the story. I was there, remember?”

“You think they caught us kissing in the park?”

“Do you care?”

“Not at all. Well, maybe if Travis saw it. He’d sure be ticked off. But to these anonymous New Yorkers?” Reed waved a dismissive hand. “I’m the guy who kissed the prima ballerina. I can strut.”

“I’m a principal dancer.”

He gave a mock frown. “That doesn’t sound nearly as exotic.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Quit complaining. I had to kiss a cowboy.”

He leaned in close and snagged her hand, voice gravelly. “You did a hell of a lot more than kiss him.”

The words spurred a hot shiver of remembrance. But she couldn’t act on it in public.

Then a family entered the atrium, adding to the crowd, and Reed gently urged her toward the glass door. It slid smoothly open, and they exited onto the windy deck, finding an empty place at the rail.

“You going to come and watch me dance tonight?” she opened. She wished she dared ask him how long he was planning to stay in the city. That was what she really wanted to know. But she’d promised herself she wouldn’t push.

“Am I invited?” he asked in return, his gaze fixed on the Manhattan skyline, growing closer as their two-hour tour came to an end.

“Absolutely.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

“I have to be at the theater a few hours early, but I’ll leave a ticket at the box office.” She tried not to let her excitement rise at the thought of Reed in the audience, but her heartbeat deepened and her chest felt fuzzy. She’d dance for him tonight. It would be all for him.

“You can come backstage afterward,” she offered.

He was silent for a long moment.

“If you’d like,” she added, growing uncomfortable.

“Sure.” There was no inflection in his tone.

Had she made a misstep? It was impossible to tell, and the silence stretched between them.

“New York really is different from Colorado,” he observed.

“Taller buildings?” she asked, not really caring. Did he want to come backstage or not? Did he want to see her after the performance? Would he invite her back to the hotel? Or was he already searching for a way to let her down easily?

“Taller buildings, more noise, more people, more…I don’t know…life, I guess.”

She turned to study his profile. “Is it that bad?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you at ten years old.”

“I didn’t see it all at once,” she remembered. “I saw the airport, then Auntie Coco’s apartment. I knew there was a lot of traffic on the streets, but I never guessed how far the city sprawled.”

“Were you frightened by the crowds?”

She shook her head. “Ironically, I was lonely. But I liked the dancing, and I liked the sparkling lights.” She smiled to herself. “I particularly liked the sidewalks. I liked that you could sweep the dirt away, and they were clean and smooth.”

“I like dirt,” said Reed.

“Is that a joke?” She couldn’t tell.

“It’s life,” he said. “The dirt is what starts everything. You add seeds, and they grow into plants that get eaten by animals. And at the end of a day, if you’re dirty and sweaty, and you smell like the outdoors, you know you’ve done good. You’ve worked hard. Something that wasn’t there that morning now exists. It could be a stack of hay bales, a fence, a working motor, some clean tack. It doesn’t matter what it is. Just that you did it.”

“I hate getting dirty,” Katrina reaffirmed. Not that Reed would be surprised by that statement. It was the constant dust on her clothes and the grit in her hair that had made her most crazy growing up.

“You’re such a girl,” he teased.

“Good thing I’m pretty.”

His smile disappeared. “You’re more than just pretty.” He looked as though he was about to say something else. But then he stopped. He drew a breath. “Ever been to the Empire State Building?”

“I have.”

“You want to go again?”

“With you?” Her chest hitched.

“Tomorrow?”

She gathered her courage. “So, you’re staying a little longer?”

“I was invited to a party on Saturday night.”

At the restaurant last night, Elizabeth had extended an invitation to Reed for Liberty’s largest annual fundraising gala.

“You were noncommittal. I thought that was your polite way of turning her down.” Truth was, Katrina had also thought he was signaling to her his intention to leave before the weekend.

He chuckled. “Do you think she cares if I’m polite?”

“She liked you,” Katrina told him honestly. She’d rarely seen Elizabeth warm up to someone the way she’d warmed up to Reed. It was obvious enough that Katrina had felt a little jealous at the time. Maybe that’s why she’d pushed him so hard to sleep with her last night.

Oh, wow. That wasn’t particularly admirable.

Then she let herself off the hook. Sleeping with Reed had nothing to do with Elizabeth. Katrina simply wasn’t ready to let go of the intimacy they’d found together in the line shack.

He was a great guy and an amazing lover. And she couldn’t imagine herself with anybody else. Which meant, once this was over, lovemaking was over for her for a very, very long time.

“I liked her, too,” said Reed.

“So, you’re coming to the party?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind meeting a few more of the Liberty Ballet notables.”

“You’re going to need a tux. This is a pretty high-end affair.”

“No problem. I’ll go see Salvatore.”

“You’re going back to Brooklyn for a tux?”

“I like Salvatore. Besides, I own part of his company now. He’ll have to give me a good price.”

“Just out of curiosity.” Katrina turned and leaned her back against the rounded metal rail, asking a question that had nagged at her since last night. “How did you decide to buy into a tailor shop in Brooklyn?”

He shrugged. “Instinct more than anything. I was in Brooklyn yesterday, and Nico recommended Salvatore. We got to talking about his business. He needed some help, and it made sense to me to help him out. In the end, I looked him in the eyes. I liked him, and I liked his business.”

“Who’s Nico?”

“The guy who owns the bakery I’m buying into.”

Katrina got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Are you saying this all happened yesterday?”

“While you were rehearsing.”

She was dying to ask him how much he’d invested. She was terrified that Nico and this Salvatore character had seen Reed coming. “How do you know he didn’t rip you off?”

“I’m a good judge of character.”

“Maybe in Colorado. But this is New York City.”

“Are you questioning my judgment?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly.

The muscles in his neck went tight, and she braced herself.

But when he finally spoke, his tone was neutral. “Don’t worry about it.”

“How much—” She stopped herself. “Never mind. None of my business.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m sorry.”

The wind whistled past them.

“I have a plan,” he said.

“Do tell.”

“The baker. The tailor. And the limo guy. They all have the same problem, great little businesses, solid work ethic, and short-term cash-flow issues.”

“Oh, Reed, no.” Not the limo business, too.

“They’re good guys, family businesses that have been around for generations. I make a few more of these small investments, and when they pay off, I reinvest the profits in the next person.”

“And what if there are no profits? What if you lose? Reed, this is a very big city. Con artists are everywhere.”

“In a small bake shop in Brooklyn with a broken-down delivery truck, just waiting for a guy like me to come along and bail him out?”

Okay, that did sound far-fetched for a sting operation. But it didn’t mean these guys weren’t opportunistic.

“I’m not going to lose, Katrina,” said Reed. “I’m willing to bet people are people just about anywhere. Some good, some bad, most just trying to get by.”

“I didn’t know they taught philosophy at Lyndon Valley High School.”

His jawline set, and his eyes turned to charcoal, and she knew she’d gone too far. Then, his voice went hard as steel “Well, I’d already guessed they taught snobbery at the Upper Cavendar Dramatic Arts Academy.”

Regret shot through her. “Reed, I didn’t—”

“We’re docking,” he pointed out, turning on his heel to head for the gangway.

Sitting in row G, center orchestra, in the opulent Emperor’s Theater, Reed’s anger had long since disappeared. Katrina’s ballet performance had blown him away, and he felt like the biggest jerk in the world for barking at the ethereal angel who’d held the audience enthralled throughout the evening. He wondered how quickly the well-heeled crowd would turn on him if they knew how he’d behaved.

Mere minutes into the performance, he’d found himself transferring his anger to her family. Why had he never heard she was this good? Why weren’t they shouting it from the rooftops and dropping everything to rush to New York City and watch her dance?

Supported by rows of other dancers, she was the center of attention, all ribbons and tulle. Her skirt was gauzy mauve, her hair neatly upswept, woven with flowers and jewels as she spun gracefully across the stage, toes pointed, arms outstretched, all but floating to her partner, who lifted her as the orchestra built the music to a final crescendo.

Reed held his breath through the leaps and turns and lifts, until they finally held their position. The orchestra cut, and the crowd burst into thunderous applause.

The company gracefully repositioned themselves on the stage, lining up for a bow. Katrina’s chest was rising and falling with deep breaths as she smiled at the audience. Her bright blue gaze seemed to stop on Reed’s, and emotion shot through his own chest. It was all he could do not to leap from his seat and carry her off in his arms.

But the curtain came down. The applause finally died, and the audience made their way toward the aisles on either side of him. He sat still for a long moment, wondering if he was still invited backstage. After the harbor cruise, he’d fumed in the cab all the way to the Emperor’s Theater, where he’d dropped Katrina off in midafternoon.

She’d tried to apologize numerous times, but he’d cut her off. He wasn’t sensitive about his education or his background. What he hated was when she reminded him of their vastly different lifestyles. Still, he sure didn’t have to be such a jerk about it.

She was probably still angry with him, and rightly so. Then again, was he going to let that stop him? She’d invited him backstage. She hadn’t uninvited him. He could easily play dumb and show up, and then apologize for his behavior and hope she’d forgive him.

All he had to do was figure out exactly where backstage was in this huge place.

He glanced around at the rapidly emptying theater, looking for an usher. Instead, he spotted Elizabeth Jeril down near the front, in a conversation with a man. The seats beside him were empty, so he quickly exited the row and made his way down to her.

“Reed.” Elizabeth greeted him with a wide, welcoming smile.

The stranger next to her turned to give Reed a suspicious once-over.

Elizabeth showed no such hesitation. She reached out her arms and all but floated toward him in her full-length silver gown. “I hope you enjoyed the performance.”

Reed gently returned the hug. “Very much,” he told her honestly.

“Are you coming backstage to see Katrina?”

“I’d like to.”

“Good. Reed, this is one of our major donors and a member of the board of directors, Quentin Foster.”

Reed’s senses went on instant alert. But he schooled his features and faced the man.

“Quentin,” Elizabeth continued, oblivious. “This is Reed Terrell. Reed is a friend of Katrina’s.”

“A close friend,” Reed added, holding out his hand to shake, meeting the muddy gaze of Quentin’s light brown eyes square on.

Foster was slightly short, slightly balding, with a narrow nose and a haughty, supercilious smile. He held out his own hand, pale and thin-skinned.

“A pleasure,” he told Reed in a tone that said it was anything but.

Reed squeezed a little too firmly. “Katrina’s spoken of you,” he told Quentin.

Quentin’s nostrils flared for a split second, uncertainty crossing his expression before he quickly withdrew his hand. “Katrina’s dancing is coming along nicely.”

“She looked great to me,” said Reed.

“You’re an aficionado?” Quentin challenged.

“I know what I like,” Reed returned evenly.

Quentin gave a fake laugh. “The subtleties of the ballet are usually lost on the masses.”

Reed dropped the conversation and spoke to Elizabeth. “Can you point the way?”

“Absolutely.” She linked her arm with Reed’s and led him along the front of the stage to a small door, subtly recessed into the wall paneling.

They passed through single file to a dimly lit narrow hallway and staircase.

Reed kept his footsteps and his tone measured as he chatted inconsequentially about the weather and the sights of New York City. Inside his head, he was cataloging his instincts.

Now that he’d met Foster, every fiber of his being told him to protect Katrina. Slamming the man into the nearest wall and reading him the riot act seemed like an excellent start. But he restrained himself as they passed through another door and came out into a wide, bustling corridor.

“There she is,” said Elizabeth, gesturing down the hallway.

Reed’s attention immediately fixed on Katrina as she emerged from a doorway. She’d changed into a simple black sheath dress with black leggings, high-heeled shoes and a short purple open cardigan. Her hair was in a wavy ponytail, and her face was free of makeup.

“Thanks,” he told Elizabeth absently, already winding his way through the performers and crew clogging the hall.

When he appeared next to her, Katrina was startled, obviously surprised to see him. But he didn’t pause to talk, simply slipped an arm around her waist, and gently eased her into a walk in the direction opposite to Foster.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t care. Is this the way out?”

She settled in to his pace. “Aren’t you still mad at me?”

“I was never mad.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, a little bit mad. But I shouldn’t have been mad. I guess I’m psychologically delicate. Are we going the right way?”

“As if,” she scoffed. “Take the next right.”

He steered them around a corner into an empty hallway.

The other voices disappeared behind them, and he noticed they were alone. He impulsively backed her into the wall. He searched her expression, finding her more beautiful than ever. “You were amazing out there.”

A genuine smile grew on her face. “You liked the performance?”

“I can’t wait to watch you dance again.”

Still grinning, she scoffed, “There’s no need to go overboard, Reed.”

Instead of responding, he cupped her chin, stilling her motion. He leaned in. “I’m hooked,” he whispered, a split second before his lips touched hers.

Their kiss was instantly passionate, and he pressed his body to hers. Her arms wound around his neck, and he pulled her into a tight full-body hug.

“Reed?” she gasped, clearly struggling for breath.

He forced himself to let her go. He hadn’t meant to maul her in public. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked, dredging up some manners.

She had to have used up a lot of energy out there tonight.

“I am.” She nodded.

“What do you want to eat?” He’d take her anywhere. They could do anything she wanted, as long as it was together.

She blinked once, her dark lashes covering her deep blue eyes, momentarily expanding her pupils. “Room service?”

Everything inside him stilled, then his hand sought hers, tugging her away from the wall, leading her farther down the corridor.

At first, they walked in silence.

“You really liked the performance?” Her tone was slightly hesitant. “Like, truly?”

“I truly loved it,” he answered.

“As in, you’d watch another ballet?”

“If you were in it.” Then he shrugged. “Or if you came to watch with me.”

Though it wasn’t something he’d ever given a moment’s thought to, he’d honestly enjoyed the ballet. He admired the dancing, the choreography, the lighting, the costumes. He liked to think he recognized hard work when he saw it.

“What about the opera?” she asked.

“I’ve never been to the opera.”

“Would you try one?”

“Is this some kind of a test? Are you setting me up for a joke?”

She frowned at him. “Not at all. I like opera.”

“Why?”

They made their way up a back staircase, and a door came into view at the end of a short hallway.

“The music, the pageantry, the stories.”

“Aren’t they in Italian?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t speak Italian.”

“Quello è sfavorevole.”

He tugged her against his side. “You are such a showoff.”

“Unlike you? Who turned my bike into an exercise machine and laughed at me because I was afraid of chickens?”

He paused a beat. “Being afraid of chickens is pretty comical.”

She tipped her head sideways against his shoulder. “You sure you want to mock the woman who’s coming back to your hotel room?”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Let me tell you exactly what I want to do to the woman who’s coming back to my hotel room.”