Hidden Love by MINK

4

Gaines

Unexpected, to say the least. The beauty beside me seemed to come out of nowhere, practically falling into my arms.

Not that I’m complaining. Though completely out of character for me, I considered keeping her against me, taking her mouth in a kiss, then dragging her out of this place so we could be together in private. It sounds barbaric and foolhardy, but I can’t deny what I’m feeling.

She shoots me a sideways glance as we climb the steps into the venue. “You really are ridiculously tall.”

“Ridiculously?” I ask.

“In a good way. I mean, you seem really solid. Thick, actually. Like long and sort of--” Her cheeks turn a decidedly darling shade of pink as she clamps her lips together.

“I seem long and solid?” I tease.

She tucks a lock of her brown hair behind her ear, then changes her mind and lets it drape freely down to her shoulder. She’s nervous. Why does that simple fact whet my appetite even more?

“Gaines.” Selena sweeps over, her gaze on me. “I intend to win you tonight,” she simpers.

“You say that every year.”

“This year I mean it.” She runs her tongue along her front teeth, then looks at the woman on my arm. “And you are?” She puts a sharp point on her question.

“Pan”—the beautiful brunette pauses, then finishes—“sy.”

“Pansy?” Selena laughs, her platinum blond bob bouncing. “Well, nice to meet you, I guess.” She slides her gaze back to me. “You’re mine tonight.”

“Actually”—Pansy steps forward—“he’s mine, and if you don’t mind, we were just on our way inside.”

Everything inside me pulses, and I can’t seem to keep from taking Pansy’s arm again, her soft skin perfect under my touch. “You heard her, Selena. I’m claimed.”

“We’ll see about that.” She turns, her white hair fanning out as she puts an extra sway in her hips and stomps away.

“Who was that?” Pansy looks up at me, her brow slightly creased.

“Selena’s been after me for years. Not me, though, of course. My money.”

“Oh.” She shrugs. “I thought everyone here was already rich.”

“Of course they are.” I lead her through the wide double doors into the ballroom. “But adding to their wealth is their favorite pastime.”

“Money can’t buy what they want.” She reaches up and touches the bejeweled key that hangs around her pale throat.

“It can’t?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head as a waiter walks by with a tray of champagne.

I take one and hand it to her, then snag another. “And what is it they want, precisely?” Am I having a conversation with a woman other than Mrs. Pettyford? I think I am. And I’m enjoying it.

The sound in the room is a dull roar from too many conversations, so I lean closer, catching her sweet scent one more time, relishing the luminous tone of her skin and the way her hair caresses her shoulders. The peacock blue dress fits her like a second skin, and I find myself thinking about peeling it off her and tasting every inch of what lies beneath.

“They want the same thing everyone--rich or poor--wants. To not feel alone.” She sips her drink. “That’s what all the money is for. They want to feel secure, like they could buy anything they ever wanted. But it will never be enough.”

“And what makes you so wise, beautiful stranger?” I swallow some champagne.

“I’ve been around.” She touches the key again. “Losing things puts a lot into perspective, I guess.”

“Things?” I want her to keep talking, to tell me everything about her.

“Well, people.” She drops her gaze.

I tilt her chin back up so she meets my eyes. “Someone close to you?”

She blinks, as if trying to stop tears from welling. “I’m not here to talk about that.” She forces a smile. “Tell me, what’s the plan for the evening?”

The plan is to get you into my bed. “You know how these charity events go.” I suspect she doesn’t. In fact, I suspect that if I checked the guest list, I wouldn’t find a “Pansy” anywhere on it.

“Right.” She takes a bigger drink of her champagne.

“Where are you from--”

“Gaines!” Linton strides over, his huge smile burning my retinas. “How’s it going, man? Last I heard you were doing some sort of trek in Nova Scotia. Find anything good?” His eyes flicker to Pansy, and I don’t like the way he sizes her up. “And who is this doll?”

I wrap my arm around her and find myself more than pleased when she leans into my side. “This is Pansy, my date.”

“Date?” His blond eyebrows jump. “You?” He whistles. “Going to be a lot of broken hearts in the room tonight.”

“I’m not worried.” I press my fingertips into her waist, feeling how soft she is, how perfectly she’d fit against me.

“Claws will be out.” He reaches out and faux punches my shoulder, then draws his hand away and shakes it. “You always bring the guns.” He laughs, then backs away. “Let’s get the show started.”

“He’s even brighter in person. Too bright.” Pansy doesn’t seem impressed. Good. Linton is a larger-than-life TV personality, and the emcee of this event, but he leaves a trail of disappointed women in his wake, or so Mrs. Pettyford has said.

More people glance our way, some of them giving me that wide-eyed sort of look that’s a precursor to an attempt at conversation. Not a chance. Not when I’ve got this mystery woman under my arm and already owing me a favor.

With a smooth pull, I walk her to one of the darker alcoves along the side of the ballroom.

“Where are we go--”

“Where are you from?” I back her against the wall, almost caging her with my body. It’s like my mind has shut off and given way to whatever base instinct rules a man when he finds a woman who sets his soul on fire.

“From?” She gives me a wry look. “Well, I guess I’m from the red carpet.”

I run my fingers down her throat, skirting along the golden chain of her necklace.

She takes a sharp breath but doesn’t push away.

“Your voice has a Southern lilt to it. You’re from the South. You aren’t one of the usual buzzards who frequent these events. And you seem to know who I am, though you’re making an attempt at playing it cool.”

Her eyes widen. “I don’t, um. That’s not a true sort of thing you just said, and what--” She lets out a little gasp again when I stroke her collarbone with the pad of my thumb.

“I just want to know you’re real. That I’m not being played. Plenty have tried it.” I run my palm back to her throat and squeeze ever so gently. “Wanting to get to me. To get something from me. But I don’t feel like that’s you.” Not this woman with the soulful eyes and the mouth-watering curves.

“I’m just here to help the charity.” Her voice is breathy.

My cock is rock hard, and I have the urge to place her palm against it. Pretend it’s just the two of us, not hundreds of glitterati and constant whispers at my back.

I smirk down at her, and she licks her lips.

“I’m glad you’re here to support the charity. Here’s the favor you’re going to do for me.” I lean closer and press my lips to her ear, whispering my instructions as I feel her soft hair, warm skin, and racing heart.