have the funny feeling you sound pleased about this?” he asked, his tone
still thoughtful. He hadn’t torn his eyes from the subject of their discussion.
Just then, she’d accepted the offer of a dance from a bespectacled,
burly-looking man whose suit seemed to hang on his beefy frame awkwardly. Jude
felt himself scowling, especially when the man drew her closer into his huge
arms than was necessary. She seemed uncomfortable, though she smiled with
forced brightness. Jude saw a grimace cross her face and he figured Mr. Hulk had
trod on her.
“Here,”
he told Carly shortly, handing her his glass.
“What… Jude ,” she said through gritted teeth,
watching him stride purposefully away. In the direction of Miss Miranda Quinn
and her dance partner. Carly sighed impatiently. In the past nine years of
being his most trusted employee, she’d gone through many emotions: fury,
exasperation, and then affection. He now seemed like her naughty younger
brother that she was consigned to keeping away from trouble whenever she could.
Though
one thing was certain: She wasn’t
sure how successful she’d be at keeping him away from Miranda Quinn.
***
Miranda
wasn’t even sure why she was here. She hated these sorts of “do’s ”.
After her family’s near-ruin, she hadn’t been much of
a social butterfly. But her brother had insisted she showed face at this
fundraising gala, for the same reason she had wished to avoid it: to show that
the Quinn family was still alive and kicking. Ever since her father had lost
his beloved company a year ago, he’d withdrawn on a much-needed vacation to South America, and now her brother and her had been left to
pick up the pieces. It had been an uncomfortable situation to live down, but
here she was, being social – and getting her feet smashed in the process.
She
tried not to grimace one more time as her dance partner stepped on her toes
– again. She hoped she wouldn’t be crippled before the night was through.
Kirk was a big beef of a man, and a very nice guy though he couldn’t dance for
squat. However, he was a big-shot financial advisor with all the right contacts
– contacts that Miranda was dearly in need of. But befriending him was
getting to be too much of a risk to her wellbeing, she discovered, feeling
crushed too strongly against his massive frame. He was taking much advantage of
the slow, swaying music to practically squelch her against him, and she gritted
her teeth. If only her brother Jeffrey could take her position right now. Where
the hell was he anyway, she fumed, her eyes scanning the crowded room.
“May
I cut in?”
Miranda
felt herself pause at the sound of that voice. It was deep, clipped and very
refined. A James-Bond kind of voice; more of take-charge mixed with a little
bit of black silk smoothness. She looked up quickly, and jammed eyes with the
hottest specimen of male flesh she had ever seen.
He
was smiling at her, his hunky quality further magnified by that sexy tilt of
his lips. His aquamarine eyes were startling in his gorgeous face, which had
finely chiseled planes and edges. He was also quite tall, at least six feet,
and dressed impeccably in a dark jacket that looked like it was molded to his
athletically built frame. Miranda blinked, unable to register much except: holy shit, he’s gorgeous .
“Sorry
pal, not happening,” Kirk, her partner, said with a cool smile, looking over
his shoulder at the blonde-haired man behind him.
“Oh
I insist,” the newcomer drawled. “Because someone needs to spare the lady years
of physiotherapy after you’ve finished crushing her feet.”
Miranda
bit down the giggle that almost burst from her lips, seeing Kirk’s furious expression.
“Now look here…” blustered Kirk, but Miranda chose that moment to slip out of
his arms.
“I’d
be honored to dance with you,” she murmured, meeting the triumphant gaze of her
“rescuer”. She saw Kirk’s face go red, before he stalked off angrily.
Yenthu Wentz
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