Even Helene had kept her distance, holding court on the opposite end of the enormous ballroom surrounded by a trio of obvious bride candidates who couldn’t keep their eyes off Sawyer. Not that he seemed to notice. Nope. He’d spent the last hour looking to-die-for hot in his tux while either sexy-glowering at her (it’s apparently a thing) or on his phone as he talked business. It wasn’t fair. No one should be that hot and that annoying at the same time. Not that it mattered. She was here as Sawyer’s buffer not his date. It was best—if not particularly easy—to remember that when he was looking all 007.
Even worse? At the moment, she was about as useful and necessary as a bike to a fish, which meant she was thoroughly and completely bored. Plus, her feet hurt in the kill-me-now heels she’d borrowed. Shifting her weight, she snuck one foot out of her heel and stretched her toes under the cover of the floor-length skirt. Her foot did everything but sing the Hallelujah Chorus in gratitude at being set free from its narrow prison.
Of course, that’s when a man appeared out of nowhere by her side, startling her and sending her awkwardly wobbling on her one foot that was still in a shoe.
His hand shot out to steady her, releasing her almost as fast as he’d saved her from tumbling over. “You don’t have to confirm it, but I can tell,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Your date’s a dud.”
“It’s not a date.” The truth came out before she could think better. Sigh. When would she learn to just keep her mouth shut? Sawyer had been so tight-lipped in the car, she didn’t know what cover story—if any—he wanted her to use.
“Really? Then let me introduce myself. Tyler Jacobson,” he said. “And since it appears your date is not a date, that must mean you’re free to dance.”
Not a good idea when she was on the job. “I’m allergic.”
“To dancing or to handsome men?”
She chuckled. He was definitely handsome. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, and enough charm to get a starving man to offer up his last bite of bread. “A little of both.”
He swiped a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter and handed it to her. “Luckily for you, I happen to know that this is the cure.”
She took a sip, smiling for the first time since she’d walked out her front door. A little harmless flirting at a gala—now that was an adventure she hadn’t had before. The night was beginning to look up.
“You don’t give up, do you?” she teased.
Tyler’s smile was for her, but his gaze slid sideways to Sawyer as he talked on his phone to someone about Singapore. “Not once I’ve set my mind to something.”
Clover’s spider sense tingled as she looked between Sawyer and the other man in his equally well-fitting tux. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”
“One dance, that’s all. Then I’ll bring you right back to your dreadfully boring not-date.”
“He’s not boring.” Infuriating? Stuffy? Devastating to her panties? She’d give a hell yes to all the above, but not boring.
“Whatever you say.” He took the champagne from her hand and set it on a passing waiter’s tray, then tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her out onto the dance floor.
One dance. One fantasy moment with a man who looked straight out of central casting. A little adventure to put in her memory bank. Nothing in her job duties said no dancing. She’d just be sure to keep an eye on Sawyer, and if Helene—or anyone else—approached, she’d slip away from her partner. Until then, it was Cinderella time.
Like every other song the band had played tonight, it was a slow one. So here she was in the arms of a handsome stranger in a tux in the middle of The Grand Hotel, which totally stayed true to its name with the amount of columns and marble and sparkling brilliance, and danced. It was a scene right out of a princess movie—and about as sexy. There was no zing from his fingertips on her waist. No languorous desire sliding across her skin. No anticipation pushing her to close the very socially-acceptable gap between their bodies.
“So how did you and Sawyer meet?” Tyler asked, his tone light but the look in his much more serious eyes told another story.
She had no frickin’ clue what was going on between the men, but for once she wasn’t going to step smack dab in the middle of it. Nope. She was going to keep her motor mouth out of trouble.
“Underground fight club,” she said with all the seriousness she could muster. “He bet against me. And lost.”
Tyler laughed. “Now that I wouldn’t doubt. Never bet against a woman in black.”
“How do you know Sawyer?” Diam! The mental Malay order came too late—the words already out of her mouth.
All the teasing charm died away. “What makes you think I do?”
“Women’s intuition.” And the fact that he couldn’t stop talking about Sawyer.
“He was the best man at my wedding, well, almost wedding.”
That threw her enough that she lost a step and hastened to pick up the rhythm again. “Almost wedding?”
He shrugged and spun her around on the dance floor. “My fiancée liked my best man more than me.”
“Ouch.” She couldn’t keep the horror off her face. “They didn’t…”
“Not that I know of, but who knows.”
Wow. She needed to stop talking. Now. Too bad her mouth had other ideas. “You’re very blasé about it all.”
“It was years ago, and anyway”—he paused and turned a devastatingly sexy and completely disingenuous smile on her—“now I have you to distract me from my deep, dark wound and repair the hole in my heart from the loss of the woman I loved and the man who’d been my best friend since prep school.”
Someone had spent too much time in the melodrama category on Netflix. Either that or he was used to dealing with socialites who’d take him at his word. And here she’d thought growing up in Sparksville that the Harbor City rich were so much more sophisticated than that.
“You’re laying it on a little thick there.”
His smile didn’t falter, but some actual fun seeped into it. “Too much?”
“Oh yeah.” She nodded, matching his mock serious tone.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to find another way to steal you away from him. Good thing I’m a helluva lot more adventurous. How about breakfast in Paris, lunch in Milan, and dinner Barcelona?”
A large hand clapped down on her dance partner’s shoulder—not hard enough to cause a scene but definitely serious enough to make a point—and brought their dancing to a jarring halt. Sawyer stood behind Tyler, all predatory determination and sizzling heat. Her belly did that flip-flop thing that released all the stupid kamikaze butterflies in her stomach and her breath caught.
“Leave her dining choices to me, Jacobson,” Sawyer said to her dance partner, but the smoldering look in his eyes was all for her.
And for once, her mouth stayed blessedly shut.
The other man stiffened, all the teasing drained out in an instant. “I’m just entertaining the lady while you’re busy.”
“I’ll take over from here,” Sawyer said.
“Of course.” Tyler released her and executed a deep, mocking bow. “Until next time… you know, I didn’t ask your name…”