The Dare Affair: Summer In Savannah Anth. (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 6.5

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “About what?”

  “The aquatic gala, if you must know.”

  Kat’s former fiancé turned toward her. Then he brushed her hand, a light, tender touch. A touch that twisted Clay’s gut in two.

  “Will you attend the gala with me?” he asked her, his voice as refined as processed sugar. “I still have our tickets.”

  She blinked, released an audible breath. “I’m going with Clay.”

  “Really?” The blue blood shifted, cocked his regal head at Clay. “I envy you, Crawford.”

  What the hell was this? Polite charm? A new ploy to win Kat’s favor? “As you should, Winston.”

  Andrew’s lips formed a tight smile. “Maybe Katrina will save me a dance.”

  A dance, a society duel. That was right up Winston’s alley. “I’m sure she will,” Clay responded, refusing to appear threatened.

  “Then I shall see you both at the gala.” Andrew smoothed his shirt, tugging at his cuffs. He didn’t look the least bit wilted, even in the stifling heat. Yet Clay had begun to sweat. Now he wished he’d knocked Winston on his butt.

  Kat stood like a zombie, and as Andrew gave her a slight bow and said goodbye, Clay wanted to shake her, to snap her out of the trance.

  When Winston was gone, silence stretched between them, digging a deep dark hole in their sunny afternoon.

  “I should go, too.” He couldn’t bear to be with her, not now.

  “I understand.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “I’m sorry that happened.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He skimmed her cheek. “I knew Andrew would want you back.”

  She released a shaky breath. “I’m so confused.”

  “I know.” He brushed her lips with a soul-searching kiss. He was confused, too. “Maybe we should take a break before the gala. It’s only five days away. And I’ve got a zillion things to do at the club.”

  “So I won’t see you before Friday?”

  “No. But I’ll still be your date.”

  “Don’t forget to get a tux.”

  “I won’t.” He’d already bought one. “Be good until I see you again.”

  “Then I can be bad?” she asked, teasing him, making him ache.

  “Yes.” He wondered how long it would take for Andrew to propose to her again. Not long, he suspected. He frowned, and when she leaned in to hug him, he held her a little too tightly, missing her already.

  Chapter 7

  On the night of the aquatic gala, Clay told himself that attending a charity ball was no big deal. He wasn’t a blue blood, but he had plenty of money, enough to make him an equal. He wasn’t as polished as Andrew Winston, but he knew how to conduct himself in social settings. He’d been studying Kat’s peer group since he was a boy.

  Then why was he was so damn nervous? Why did he feel as if he was going to trip all over himself? Stumble over every word? Forget the manners he’d rehearsed?

  He rang the bell at Kat’s guest house. She answered wearing a long, slim icy white gown. The décolleté presented an elegant display of cleavage, just enough to stir the imagination.

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s some dress.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” She spun around, modeling the rest of it, showing him that her entire back was bare.

  He had the notion to kiss her skin, to run his mouth along every curve. She turned to face him again, and they gazed at each other. He reached for a strand of her hair. She wore it in a fancy updo, with loose tendrils falling in calculated disarray.

  She smiled at him. “You look incredible, too.”

  “Thank you.” His designer tux was hand tailored, with a peak lapel. “This is for you. For your purse.” He held out an orchid corsage. “It’s my favorite flower, and I figured it would look good with a white dress.”

  “It’s beautiful.” She thanked him, taking the exotic bloom from his hand. “I wear orchid perfume.”

  “I know,” he said.

  Once again they gazed at each other, caught in a timeless moment. She seemed nervous, too. But they hadn’t seen each other all week. They hadn’t touched; they hadn’t kissed. He looked at her mouth and noticed her lipstick, a flawless shade of peach, a color that complemented her autumn-tinted hair.

  “Come in.” She stepped away from the door, as though suddenly aware that they stood on the porch in formal attire, staring at each other. “I need to get my bag.”

  He entered the guest house, wishing they were staying in for the evening. The cottage provided a warm, summer ambience, with the lingering aroma of vanilla-scented candles.

  Kat attached the corsage to a white purse, where the orchid made a ladylike statement. When she turned to indicate that she was ready to leave, he decided she looked like a storybook princess come to life.

  But that was her station in life, he thought. Katrina Beaumont hailed from Southern royalty. And Clay couldn’t stop thinking about the dance that had been promised to Andrew.

  They climbed into his Porsche and he tried to shake her former fiancé from his mind. Kat was his date tonight, his fairy tale, the woman who’d dominated his teenage dreams.

  “Are your parents going to be at the ball?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. They’re out of town this weekend, but Anna-Mae and Jenny will be there.”

  He pulled onto the street. “Is Jenny still spreading rumors about us?”

  “I don’t think she needs to. We’ve created enough gossip on our own.”

  He downshifted at a stop sign. “We certainly got Andrew’s attention.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “We certainly did.”

  Clay drove into town, and they arrived at a historic hotel that overlooked the Savannah River. The ballroom offered a floor-to-ceiling view of the port. But even more impressive was the decor, the aquatic touches designed just for the ball. Sea-foam-colored lights and streams of rippling fabric made the room look as if it were underwater.

  The luxurious fund-raiser presented an artistic buffet of seafood delicacies. Although a full bar was available, uniformed servers wove their way through the guests, handing out complimentary glasses of champagne.

  Clay and Kat mingled, and he could feel people watching them, wondering about their affair. He kept a possessive arm around her waist, staking his claim. He’d yet to see Andrew, but he sensed the other man would arrive in a princely fashion.

  Kat refused the champagne, opting for a soda from the bar. Clay ordered scotch and water.

  Anna-Mae came flouncing up to them in a beaded gown. The oceanlike lights cast a bluish glow over her pale blond hair. She gave Clay a genuine smile, and he relaxed.

  “Isn’t this divine?” She indicated the room. “We all look like mermaids.”

  “Or mermen,” Clay said.

  “Or tritons,” Kat whispered in his ear, making him hungry for her touch.

  “Oh, my. You two are simply dishy.” Anna-Mae sipped her champagne. “Come sit with us. That’s my date over there.” She gestured to a man with the same hair color as hers. Bluish blond. “Cute, huh?”

  “Dishy,” Clay said, giving her a playful wink.

  She laughed and led them to her escort, who proved to be an entertaining fellow, in spite of his aristocratic genes.

  Ten minutes later Clay and Kat sampled the buffet, arranging salmon cakes, crab-stuffed sole and caviar canapés onto their plates. They returned to the table, eating with the rest of the guests.

  Clay had always appreciated fine dining, and he liked watching Kat taste her entrées. She looked up and smiled, and he lifted a slice of Cajun toast to his mouth, the spicy flavor pumping through his blood.

  “Food is so erotic,” Anna-Mae said, not missing a beat. She turned to her escort. “We should have a torrid affair.”

  “I already thought we were,” he responded in a droll voice, making everyone laugh.

  Soon Clay asked Kat to dance and they joined the couples swaying to the music. He wanted to kiss her, right then and there, but he ref
rained. This wasn’t Steam. This wasn’t his club.

  “Are you having a good time?” she asked.

  He nodded, but when he glanced toward the door, he saw that Andrew had just arrived, with Jenny and her date trailing a few paces behind him.

  The rest of the evening went to hell. Within no time Andrew claimed his dance, and Clay watched from the table, with Jenny, the gossipy brunette, pecking in his ear.

  “They always made a marvelous pair,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t know.” But in truth, Katrina and Andrew did look natural together. Not Kat, he thought. But Katrina, the woman who’d wanted to marry Andrew from the start.

  They moved in unison, Clay noticed, each step flowing into the next. Graceful. Fluid. A man and a woman who’d been taught to waltz as children, who’d attended charity balls all of their lives. When Katrina met Andrew’s gaze, Clay downed the contents of his drink.

  Andrew leaned in to her and said something. Something intimate, it appeared. She responded, her voice probably hushed.

  Clay knew it was time to let her go, to end their affair. She was his fantasy, a boyhood dream he’d gotten to fulfill, but they weren’t meant to last.

  “Andrew knows he made a mistake,” Jenny said. “He knows he shouldn’t have broken their engagement.”

  Clay didn’t react; he didn’t converse with the brunette. When the song ended, Andrew kissed Katrina’s hand, thanking her for the dance. Clay had never kissed her hand. He’d put his mouth all over her, but he’d never treated her with that kind of romantic care.

  Now he wished he had. He wished he’d given her just one night of chivalry.

  Andrew headed to the bar, and Katrina returned to the table. Clay stood to hold out her chair for her, but she refused the proffered seat.

  “Do you think we could go outside? I’d like to get some air.”

  “Of course.” He guided her to a set of glass doors leading to a nearby terrace.

  They moved toward the rail and looked at the river. Moonlight shimmered on the water, then disappeared like a lost treasure.

  Katrina fidgeted with the flower on her purse. “Andrew wants to start dating again.”

  Clay masked his emotions. “And how do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked up. “I honestly don’t know.”

  He breathed in the shore air. “You’re still confused?”

  “Yes.”

  She reached out to touch his face, but he stepped back, leaving her hand empty. He couldn’t bear to vie for her affection, to know he would lose. Nor could he be her balm, the man who kept soothing her ache. “I think you should give Andrew a chance.”

  “You’re telling me to reconcile with him? To stop being with you?”

  “We had a good time, Kat.” He slipped his hands in his pockets, the free-spirited club owner. “But it was just sex.”

  “Just sex?” She sounded hurt, much too vulnerable. “I thought we were friends, too.”

  “We were. We are.” Something in his chest twisted. Was it his heart? His lungs? The air he couldn’t seem to breathe? “But Andrew was your fiancé. You had an affair with me to make him jealous. This was always about him.”

  “That’s not true.” She paused, traced the orchid petals, softly this time. “Not entirely. I slept with you because I’m attracted to you. Because you make me feel—”

  “Erotic?” he supplied. “Wild?” He studied the river, searching for moonlight, wishing it would return. “We both knew it was a game. We both knew it would end.”

  “So, that’s it?” Her words quavered. “It’s over?”

  He turned to face her. “Yes. It’s over.” But he would never forget the time he’d spent with her, the desperation, the dare that had made her his lover.

  On Tuesday evening Katrina worked her hair into a French braid, her fingers tense with each movement. She glanced back at her mother, who sat on the edge of the bed, watching her.

  “You’re dining with Andrew tonight?” Delilah asked.

  “Yes.” Katrina turned back to the mirror and noticed the circles under her eyes. She hadn’t slept well since the night of the gala. She couldn’t stop thinking about Clay; she couldn’t stop wondering where he was and what he was doing.

  “How long are you going to remain here?” Delilah gestured, indicating the guest house.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

  The older woman rose, then stood behind Katrina. “Here. Let me do that.” She took over, fixing the braid. “You should be with Daddy and me. It doesn’t make sense for you to live here.”

  Katrina shrugged. “I feel so empty.”

  “Andrew will help you overcome that scandal.”

  “I miss Clay, Mother. I know I shouldn’t. But I do.” Her affair with him wasn’t meant to last, but his rejection was more than she could bear.

  “You’ll be all right once you spend time with Andrew.”

  “Will I?” She met her mother’s gaze in the mirror. In spite of her age, Delilah’s skin glowed, her makeup carefully applied, her head tilted at a graceful angle. She reminded Katrina of the wisteria that bloomed in the spring. Beautiful yet vigorous, she thought. A plant that climbed its way to the top, flowering along the way. “Did you love Daddy when you married him?”

  “Of course I did. I would never marry a man I didn’t love.” Delilah smoothed the braid, then rested her hands on Katrina’s shoulders. Her manicure shone in the glass, the tips of her nails a pristine shade of white. “Are you doubting your feelings for Andrew?”

  “Clay told me I should give Andrew a chance.”

  “And that’s what you’re doing.” Delilah paused. “I want you to be happy, Katrina. Maybe Clay wants you to be happy, too.”

  By the time Andrew arrived, Katrina was dressed in a mauve dress, low heels and a strand of pearls. Picture perfect, she thought. A mild-tempered heiress.

  Andrew looked just as sedate, with his dark blue tie and neatly trimmed hair. He was a handsome man, tall and refined. She’d dated him for years, but now he seemed like a stranger, someone she couldn’t relate to.

  He escorted her to his car, then climbed behind the wheel. Rather than start the engine, he turned to study her. They sat in awkward silence. They weren’t used to each other anymore. Their lives had changed.

  Andrew cleared his throat. “I want you back, Katrina. I want to work out our problems.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Why now?”

  “Because you seemed different when you were with him. And I want you to be that way for me.”

  She glanced out the window. Suddenly the guest house looked like a lost cottage, a twisted storybook setting, a place where aging debutantes disappeared. “Do I seem like that now?”

  He frowned a little. “No.”

  “Maybe I can only be that way around him. I think he put a spell on me.” She turned away from the window. “You were right to break off our engagement. And you were right about us not having any chemistry.”

  He touched her cheek, a tentative caress. “We can try to change that.”

  “Can we?” She gazed into Andrew’s eyes and saw their past, the uncertainty of their future. “What if it doesn’t work? What if we can’t make it happen?”

  His ego bristled. “Was he better in bed than me?”

  She fidgeted with the hem on her dress, refusing to compare, to pit one man against the other. “It isn’t a case of who’s better.” She sat back, took a deep breath. “Clay gave me what I’d been missing. I think somewhere deep down I’ve always needed him. That he was always there, buried inside me.”

  Andrew’s expression remained tight, but he didn’t lose his temper. He simply looked at her, as if he were trying to see beyond the wall that separated them, to understand it. “Are you falling in love with him? Is he in love with you?”

  Katrina froze, her heart slamming her rib cage. Love? She hadn’t let the word enter her mind. She hadn’t let herself think that far. “I don’t know.
I—”

  “You what?” he interrupted.

  “I wish I could be with him. Just one more time.”

  “Then go,” he told her. “Finish your affair.”

  She gazed at her former fiancé, stunned by his suggestion, by the honesty in his voice. “And then what am I supposed to do? Come back to you? Try to make it work?”

  Andrew didn’t respond, but she knew the decision wasn’t his to make. The choice was hers.

  Chapter 8

  Clay paced his apartment, unable to focus, to think beyond the tension in his gut. He had a feeling that something was about to happen, something emotional, something that would make his life more complicated than it already was.

  He walked into the kitchen and frowned at the dishes he hadn’t washed. He didn’t like that he couldn’t get Kat off his mind, that she’d been invading his thoughts since he’d let her go.

  His cell phone rang, and he sensed this was the trouble he’d been waiting for. But not answering didn’t seem like an option.

  He flipped open the phone and said hello.

  “Clay, it’s Joe.”

  “Yeah?” He waited for the bouncer to continue. The club was about to close, but Clay hadn’t made an appearance tonight.

  “Katrina Beaumont is here and she wants to see you.”

  Clay cursed. He wanted to send her away, but knowing she was in the building made him lonely for her. “Will you escort her to my apartment?”

  “Yes, sir. We’re on our way.”

  He waited by the front door, wondering what had possessed her to come to him. To torture him, he thought.

  Finally he heard footsteps in the hallway. And then he saw Joe and Kat. The bouncer was the only employee who had a key to Clay’s floor. The men exchanged a silent glance before Joe nodded and left Kat in Clay’s care.

  She fussed with a strand of pearls around her neck, looking much too proper. Her hair was fashioned in a ladylike braid and her dress was soft and subtle.

  “I was supposed to go out to dinner with Andrew,” she said.

  He raised his brows at her. “But you came here instead?”