I glance down at his large palm and long fingers and then back up at him. “Excuse me?”
Leaning in close, his cologne soft and seductive as it swirls around me, he says, “Dance with me.”
Okay . . .
Dance with JP. I can list more than enough reasons why I don’t want to do that.
One—being held by him is at the very bottom of things I want to do.
Two—I can’t imagine a scenario where I don’t accidentally knee him in the crotch for something annoying he’ll say while we dance.
And three—his cologne is far too enticing at the moment. I like the smell of it, which would possibly make me think positively toward him, and I don’t want that. I want to forever think he’s the worst.
But . . .
Pride is a funny thing.
I came to this gala with all the intention of getting lost in an evening with a nice guy. I assumed we’d talk about the different nests each one of Edwin’s favorite birds make, I would have a few glasses of champagne and hope that maybe . . . just maybe, Edwin would have enough confidence in himself to try to at least push me against his car and make out with me.
I think we all can agree that such imagined events won’t be transpiring tonight. I don’t want to be the girl that was ditched at the event. I don’t want to be the girl in the nice colored dress, and I don’t want to leave this evening feeling like I was the last girl picked . . . if that makes sense.
I want to feel valued, and even though taking the hand of JP Cane would be like conducting a waltz with the devil, I’m desperate.
“You know, it would be rude to say no,” he says. “When a man offers a dance, it’s the polite thing to do to take his hand.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “You can’t possibly just sit here like a wallflower the rest of the night.”
My eyes flash to his. “Wow, you sure know how to woo a woman.”
He smirks. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Felt like one to me.”
Could he be any more infuriating?
Wait, don’t answer that. I’m sure he can.
Ugh, God, I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I place my hand in his and watch as his face lights up with a rakish grin.
“Good choice, Kelsey.”
Remember what I said about the whole “kneeing in the crotch” thing? Chances have just increased.
He’s the first to stand from his chair and then he helps me up and ushers me to the side so he can push our chairs in.
For some reason, it feels as if every eye in the ballroom is on us as we slowly weave through the crowded tables. Why couldn’t the dance floor be at the front of the room where we are, rather than at the side? He stops to shake hands with a few people, a gallant businessman working the room. He keeps his hand on the small of my back while he speaks, never neglecting to introduce me and what I do.
It’s . . . a kind thing to do. The right thing to do. Professional. I’m sure business etiquette has been drilled into him from a young age, so it’s only second nature to conduct himself in this way. It has nothing to do with me.
“Sorry,” he whispers into my ear as we make our way closer to the dance floor. “It’s impossible to walk anywhere in these events without getting stopped.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. The need to talk to you is out of obligation. These people don’t actually like you.” I really want to bite my tongue. Clearly Edwin dissing me has affected me more than I thought. Or maybe, I don’t want to look like a loser in front of JP. If anything, watching him network the room has been a great lesson for me. He has the sort of business acumen I admire. But . . . I need to remain unfazed.
His nose moves close to my ear as his hand is at my back, guiding me. “Mmm, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
“You’re obnoxious.”
“So you’ve said before.”
“Just reminding you.”
We’re nearly clear of the tables now, and he smooths his hand over my back, ushering me ahead of him. “Don’t need a remin-ooooof!”
JP exhales against my skin, like a gust of very strong wind. There’s a loud crash and then a horrifying thud.
I turn just in time to see JP’s body bounce off the dance floor, his arms clutching his stomach, his long legs stretched out.
“What on earth—”
“Mother . . . fu—” he starts to say but stops himself. Eyes wincing with an immense amount of pain, he takes a few deep breaths, and just when I think he’s about to unleash a plethora of swear words, the room falls silent. All eyes are on us.