“What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Nikki, you practically disguised yourself to come here tonight,” he says, referring to the hat that I’d worn, just as Jamie suggested. “Do you want that life? Hell, can you handle it?” he adds, then brushes his hand lightly across my thigh before twining his fingers in mine. “I just worry about you is all.”
My throat is thick, and I look down, not quite willing to meet his eyes. I know his concern for me is genuine—Ollie has seen my scars, and he has seen me break, too. More important, he’s helped put the pieces of me back together.
“Damien’s worried about the same thing,” I admit quietly. “But I can stand it,” I add, looking up so that I can see his eyes. “I am standing it, and I want to, because Damien is worth it.”
His shoulders droop. “Who would have thought I’d have something in common with Damien Stark?”
I laugh out loud, and Ollie grins.
“Seriously,” he says. “I may have my issues with Stark, but I also know he cares about you.”
“He does,” I say. I’m about to add that I know that Ollie cares for me, too, but my words are stalled by the arrival of Steve and Anderson accompanied by two absolutely gorgeous men.
“Thank God,” Jamie says. “You guys have perfect timing.”
Since I am desperate for a change in subject, I agree wholeheartedly, and allow myself to be hugged and air-kissed and complimented by Steve and Anderson while Ollie shakes their hands and otherwise looks grim. I recognize the guy who has swooped Jamie into his arms as Bryan Raine, and it doesn’t take a huge mental stretch to identify the final member of my rescue party as Garreth Todd. After all, his face has been splashed on the movie screen all evening.
“Well, hello,” he says, stepping into my personal space. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Nikki,” I say, my mask firmly back in place. I am no longer in a party mood, and right then all I want is to run through the social niceties and get the hell out of here.
“I hope you’re having fun,” he says, moving even closer. I take a step back, and find myself bumping against Ollie. He puts a steadying hand on my shoulder, and that simple touch makes me want to cry. That’s the way it used to be—Ollie reaching out to steady me whenever I felt I might shatter.
“We were going for a celestial theme,” Todd says. “Get it?”
“It’s very colorful,” I say.
“It doesn’t even come close to sparkling the way you do,” he says. He’s only inches from me, and I’m sandwiched between him and Ollie. It occurs to me that if Damien said those words to me, I would probably melt. From Garreth, however, they only irritate.
I hope that Jamie will intervene, but she is lost in her Raine storm, and will not be rescuing me anytime soon. I’m on my own, and I know only one surefire way of regaining my personal space. “You have me at a disadvantage, sugar,” I say, with my brightest smile and my thickest Texas drawl. “You know my name, but I don’t have even a teensy, tiny clue as to yours.”
“Oh.” He takes a step back, presumably allowing his hyperventilating ego to get some air. “I’m Garreth Todd.”
“Very nice to meet you. And what is it you do?”
Behind me, Ollie shifts, and I can tell that he is going to explode with laughter. Jamie, thank goodness, isn’t paying attention. “I thought we were going to dance,” Ollie says, curling his fingers around mine.
“Of course,” I say, as he tugs me away. “So nice chatting with you, Mr. Todd.”
“You just dissed a movie star,” Ollie says as he pulls me onto the dance floor.
“Oh?” I say innocently, then bat my eyes for effect. “Was he a movie star?”
Ollie ignores my silliness. “Jamie is going to kill you.”
“I know,” I say. As far as Jamie is concerned, anyone who can help her climb the ladder must be treated with the utmost deference. “You have to admit he deserved it.”
“I admit nothing,” Ollie says, but he’s smiling. “So we’re here. Are we going to dance?”
It’s either that or head home, and right then I’m basking in the detente between Ollie and me. “Sure,” I say, then follow him onto the floor and let the music take over. It’s loud and heavy on the bass and just what I need to get my mind off everything. Still, I can’t help but wish that the song was slow and it was Damien on the floor with me instead of Ollie.
The wish is so fervent, in fact, that my imagination conjures the man. His tall form, cutting through the crowd. His mouth a hard line, his face expressionless, his eyes like a storm at sea. It is only when all eyes turn toward him, drawn in by the pull of Damien Stark, that I realize this is the real Damien striding through the wash of colored lights—and heading straight toward Ollie and me.
10