Jake’s eyes flashed, and one hand curled into a fist.
I touched his forearm. Not worth it.
Instead, I adopted a cool tone. “You’re welcome to just call me Doctor.” I stretched to shake his hand. “Naya Turner. Hello.” And “colored”？ Seriously? What decade is this guy living in?
“Bertram Harrison the Third.” The old man raised his chin, his voice taking on a more formal blustering tone, though his leering did not abate. That his racist and sexist comments were inappropriate seemed to be lost on him. Lord, give me the confidence of an old, rich white man.
Jake pulled me to the center of the dance floor without another word to Bertram Harrison III. His palm rested on my lower back again, our bodies close, as I slid my arm up to his shoulder, my other hand in his. He muttered in my ear, his voice low, posture tense. “That fucking racist—”
“I’m fine. He’ll still write big checks for kids with cancer, right? I assumed he was one of the rich ones.” I gave a small smile, warmth rising within me at Jake’s instincts.
“It’s not fine. I mean, he is one of our biggest contributors, but a pig. I can’t believe he talked to you like that. I should have—”
“I know. It wasn’t worth it, though.” The length of our bodies pressed together on the full dance floor, and his hand rested protectively on my lower back while my palm skirted up his biceps. “I’m okay, I promise. I thought I actually handled it quite well.”
“You did,” he said, his jaw muscles relaxing. “Masterfully. Certainly better than I would have, but does that happen a lot? People saying things like that?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes. Not usually that overtly. I know others get way worse.” Some of the things hurled at Felicia over the years from people made my skin crawl.
“I know Tyson experiences it all the time, but I thought as a woman, maybe . . .” He trailed off after bringing up his best friend, who I was going to meet the next day. “But even saying it, that was a dumb assumption.” Jake pulled me against him. “I’m so sorry.”
I tried to lighten the mood, to communicate I wasn’t holding this incident against him. “He thought I was an escort,” I whispered, worried the elegant white-haired couple nearest us would hear. “Is the dress that revealing?”
“No . . .” He glanced over my shoulder and glared, presumably at old Bert, before meeting my eyes again. “He’s just an ass. No one else would think that.”
“Maybe they think I’m your accountant?”
He took just a moment before he caught on to my playful tone. “Itemize me, baby.”
“Your barber?”
“I do like your fingers in my hair.”
“Or your nurse.”
“So many fantasies . . . I’d make sure they knew you were a doctor, though.” He spun me unexpectedly and then pulled me back to the solid wall of his chest.
“That would be very nice of you.”
He shrugged with a boyish grin. “I’m a nice guy.”
“You are.”
“Hey,” he murmured into my ear, pulling me to him. The puff of breath spurred on the low-level heat between my legs. “You’re dancing with me again.”
“I am.” I lifted my chin and pulled his lips to mine. “It’s not so scary with you.”
His gaze was hungry as his grip tightened around my waist. We shared a fleeting, intense look as we swayed with the music, our hands curled together. When we did that, he’d always sweep the pad of his thumb up the middle of my palm, a place I’d never known was an erogenous zone until him. That slow, soft touch felt like something special we shared, like when our hands were linked, it was him and me versus the world. I dragged my own thumb against the underside of his wrist, prolonging the connection but unsure what he was seeing in my face. I wasn’t sure if he could tell I was scared of this thing between us.
I broke the connection, moving my thumb off his wrists and glancing away. “Now, we should find that old, racist drunk and hit him up for more money.”
“You can’t look like that, touch me like this, and expect me to voluntarily talk to that arrogant windbag.” He dipped his head to my ear, and I melted into him, my entire body on full alert. “Really, I’d like to get out of here and . . .” His warm breath made me gasp—a small, involuntary sound escaped my lips. “Spend the rest of the night memorizing how every inch of you tastes.”