The Billionaire Gets His Way by Elizabeth Bevarly Page B

right…”
    Already anticipating the move, Violet moved—almost fluidly—to her left, then laughed lightly at her success.
    Gavin laughed, too, just as softly. “Congratulations, Miss Tandy, you mastered the box step.”
    â€œDo it again,” she said eagerly, delighted by her success. “Faster this time. But not too fast.”
    He grinned, then nodded. As he repeated the steps, this time moving a little faster, Violet watched their feet moving back, to the side, up and to the other side. As he continued, she paid more attention to the music, and realized Gavinwas keeping time with the flowing, graceful notes of the string quartet playing in the other room. Little by little, she grew more comfortable, until the awkwardness fell away, and she was actually dancing. Okay, box-stepping. It was still dancing. Gavin had said so.
    She knew it was silly to take such delight in such a simple accomplishment—all they were doing was moving around in a square—but delighted was how she felt just the same. When she finally felt confident enough to take her attention off their feet, she looked at Gavin and smiled.
    â€œThank you,” she said simply.
    He looked surprised at that. “For what?”
    â€œFor teaching me the box step, Mr. Mason,” she said, reverting to the playful formality he’d used with her a moment ago. “It was a lovely thing for you to do.”
    â€œLovely?” he echoed, still dancing her in a square. “That’s not a word people usually attribute to the things I do.”
    â€œThen maybe you should teach more people to dance.”
    He opened his mouth at that, as if he weren’t sure what to make of the comment, then gave a wry smile. But he said nothing, only widened their square with every new step he took, until he was dancing Violet out of the alcove and into the ballroom. The music segued into something a little faster, but Gavin never missed a step…and neither did Violet. She wasn’t sure how she managed not to stumble or trip over her own feet. It must have been because she had a good partner. But throughout the remainder of the piece, she and Gavin moved as a couple from one end of the ballroom to the other.
    She was having so much fun, she honestly forgot all about how she was supposed to be angry with Gavin for a million different reasons. Until he looked over her shoulderat something behind her and said, “Right. Forgot. We’re here to make an impression, not dance the night away.”
    They were? Since when?
    Then Gavin was spinning her around, and she saw the same group of people he’d started to approach earlier, including the vibrant trio of beautiful women—one blonde, one brunette, one redhead. All statuesque and curvy, and all having exceeded their genetic potential when it came to, ah, filling out the upper half of their attire. And then spilling out of the upper half of their attire.
    Inescapably, Violet glanced down at her own dress. Even if it had been cut low enough for her to spill out of it, she wouldn’t even have trickled. As Gavin danced her backward toward the group, she began to feel as if she were flying the wrong way into a flock of exotic birds like a fruit bat. A dumpy, colorless, mewling fruit bat. With bits of bruised, rotting apple matted in her fur. It was all she could do not to lift a hand to her hair to make sure it wasn’t sticky.
    As Gavin slowed their bodies and roped his arm around her waist to walk her the rest of the way toward the group, Violet noticed there were men among the pack, too, all as beautiful as their dates and no less splendidly attired, even if their colors were much more muted grays and blacks. Violet had assumed Gavin intended to infiltrate the group and spend interminable minutes talking to them, and she was dreading having to hold her own in such a crowd. But he only nodded at them en masse as he passed, addressing a few of them by name, and