"It was my fault," Peach offered. "Sorry."
But Dominick didn't seem the least bit concerned about laying blame. "This is for you," he said, and handed Lonnie one purple tulip.
"Thank you. It's so pretty!" It really was, and she'd always found red roses cliche.
"I hope you like tulips. I just think roses are sort of clichéd."
Kiss me. "It's perfect." Want me. Lonnie ignored her quickening pulse, looked over at her sister, and said, "Let's go. The sooner I get in there, the sooner I can get blamed for anything that doesn't go right. Well, 'right' according to Twit's master plan that I'm expected to mind read."
"Gee, when you put it like that..." Peach said, and the three of them headed for the ballroom.
As soon as they walked into the party, Matt made a beeline for Peach. Lonnie reintroduced him to Dominick, and the four of them made small talk for about ten minutes before B.J. came over. She was a little surprised that Matt was there already. She figured he'd show up later since he made it clear he had better things to do than socialize with Twit & Bell people. But, then again, the party was probably a great place to make outside connections, especially if you were a networker. Matt was.
"Well, kids," B.J. began jovially, "looks like Lonnie's shindig is a success so far. Then again, the night's young, and you never know who's gonna get drunk and shake things up a little." He balled his fists enthusiastically—this time on the word "shake." Lonnie wasn't sure if it was her imagination or if something was different about B.J. Usually, he came off as trying too hard but still relatively pleased with life. Tonight he seemed edgy, though, and his normally easy smile was almost manic. On the other hand, she could've been reading too much into his manner because of what'd happened in the library earlier.
"B.J., this is Dominick. He works downstairs at GraphNet," Lonnie said, introducing them. "Dominick, B.J." After they shook hands amicably, Dominick's hand settled on the small of Lonnie's back. She could feel the heat from his hand through her satin dress, and when he started lightly grazing his fingertips back and forth, it made concentrating on B.J.'s latest tale of magnificence more difficult than usual.
"...of course, now I feel like a total shit," B.J. was saying, "because I promised to be at three different parties on New Year's Eve. Two are on the Cape and one's in the North End." Lonnie nodded with as much empathy as she could muster, but New Year's Eve had never been a holiday she celebrated. In fact, the few years that she'd gone to New Year's parties she'd gotten depressed halfway through the night. It always seemed like people were forcing it, and as far as she was concerned, noisemakers and streamers didn't make up for the fact that another year had slipped by.
"What about you? What are you two up to for New Year's?"
You two? Lonnie felt like wringing B.J.'s pencil-thin neck. What if Dominick already had plans that didn't include her? By B.J. speaking about them as if they were a couple, he'd just steered the conversation in an awkward direction. Lonnie couldn't say "I don't know yet" because that implied she thought they were a couple, too. It was definitely too soon for that, and she didn't want to scare Dominick off. But she didn't want to say "nothing" in case he was free, and willing to make it a not-awful New Year's, after all.
"Actually, I'm not a big New Year's person," Dominick said conversationally. "Maybe I can persuade Lonnie to hang out with me. Just stay home and order a pizza that night, or something." He smiled down at her, and his good-natured grin nearly stole her breath. Perfect answer.
She decided to take control of the conversation before B.J. unwittingly stuck his foot in it again. "So, has anyone tried the food yet?" she asked, curious about how Meijing had managed with the catering on such short notice. Matt looked away from Peach for a minute to answer.
"Yeah, it's really good," he said. "I didn't know we were having Chinese. Of course, I had to explain to B.J. that fried rice isn't finger food."
"I told you, I was just looking for a fork," B.J. protested, embarrassed but only mildly defiant.
"Right," Matt smirked. "Ever hear of chopsticks?" he asked rhetorically. "They were sitting right there." He snickered, and turned back to Peach. "By the way, are you hungry? Do you want me to get you something to eat?"
Lonnie watched her sister hesitate; then she smiled and said, "Yeah, let's both go over." Peach and Matt headed toward the buffet table, leaving Lonnie with B.J. and Dominick. Three words came to mind: beat it, B.J.
Luckily, he didn't feel like staying anyway. "I should probably go mingle with the bigwigs for a while. Nice meeting you, Dom. See ya later, Lonnie." He turned and left—some buoyancy missing from his usual swagger.
Good, now it was just her and Dominick. Shit, now it was just her and Dominick! Maybe it was ridiculous, but she still found herself on edge around him. She had a feeling it was equal parts sexual tension and uncertainty. She turned to face him, and his hand slid off her back and dropped to his side.
"So... I hope you're having fun so far," she said, smiling brightly. "But if you thought B.J. was odd, wait till you meet my boss."
He laughed. "Oh, yeah. I'm actually going to meet the famous Twit. Do you want me to have a talk with him about lightening up on you?" he kidded.
She squinted her eyes. "Oh, please! Talk about disempowering. No thanks."
He grinned. "Okay, okay, but don't say I didn't offer."
"To be macho? Believe me, I never will." She grinned back and leaned closer.
His eyes changed from teasing to intense. Penetrating. Hot. He took her hand with his, and rubbed his thumb in a circle on her palm a few times before he asked in a low voice, "So what time does this party get out, again?"
"Oh, no. You are having a bad time," she said, and her green-honey-brown eyes looked up at him apologetically.
"No, no, it's not that. It's just... you. You're standing there driving me crazy in that dress." His eyes moved down her body, and he shook his head as if amazed. Lonnie knew he must be exaggerating, but still... a few more endorphins started swimming in her brain.
"You like it?" she asked innocently, and folded her hand over his. Of course, his hand was strong and warm and wonderful. Before he could answer, Beauregard Twit shuffled over and interrupted them.
"Lexie, glad you could make it," Twit began hurriedly, and Lonnie almost felt appreciated. "I may need someone to make sure water glasses get refilled." She avoided glancing up at Dominick because she knew if she did, they'd probably both crack up. "Also—think carefully," Twit said. "Did any confidential faxes come before you left the office today?"
She shook her head. "No. Sorry, Beauregard. Still nothing." Jeez, she knew Twit was waiting for a fax, but this bordered on obsession! Couldn't he just call the sender and remind him to fax it as soon as possible? What was so pressing, and so confidential, to make Twit this anxious?
"Beauregard, this is Dom—" she began, but he'd already strutted away like a fast-forwarded peacock.
"So... that was your boss?" Dominick asked, nodding slowly.
"Uh-huh."
"Friendly guy."
"He'd be lost without me, can't you tell?" she drawled sarcastically.
He laughed. "So would I, Lexie. So would I."
Lonnie laughed into his shoulder, which was partly an excuse to lean into him. As she turned her head, she noticed Delia swaying to the seasonal music in the far corner of the room. She was fairly easy to spot in her white, crushed velveteen mini-dress. She was talking to Lunther, and, Jesus, she was leaning in close. In fact, from where Lonnie stood, she could see Delia's arm draped over one of Lunther's shoulders, her body half pressed against his side and her mouth dangerously close to his ear. Lonnie pulled back so she could get a better view; she honestly couldn't believe how obviously Delia was coming on to Lunther. And at the company party!
Just then Lunther turned his head and looked directly at Lonnie. Shoot! She was caught gawking with abandon at him and Delia. Before Lonnie could break her eye contact with Lunther, she noticed something in his expressio
n. Something contemplative... or agitated, she couldn't tell which. He looked as if seeing Lonnie had made him remember something.
Abruptly, he disentangled himself from Delia and started making his way over.... What? He was walking straight toward them with an intense look on his face. What on earth could he want with her? At work, they barely exchanged two words weekly.
"See that man coming toward us?" she muttered, turning back to Dominick. He angled his head to the side. "Don't look."
"No, then I don't see him."
"It's Twit's partner." Only Lunther didn't approach them, after all. Not right away. Lonnie turned her head to see that he'd been intercepted by Macey, and they were having what appeared to be a rather heated conversation. Unfortunately, she couldn't hear what they were saying.
It was only a matter of seconds before Macey stalked off. Lonnie reflexively whipped her head around to follow Macey's trail out of the ballroom. What was she upset about? What did that creep say to her? Then Lonnie glanced at Lunther, who was frozen in place, paused—as if considering whether or not he should approach her.
Her luck ran out, and he moved forward again.
"Hello there, Lonnie," he said.
"Hi," she replied brightly. She was surprised that he knew her first name since Twit was constantly changing it. "Oh, this is my friend, Dominick."
Dominick shook his hand. "Hi. How're you doing?"
"Hi. Well," Lunther said, hitching up his pants a little, "I trust you're having a good time tonight."
She nodded. "Yeah, a great time. What about you?" When in doubt, strain the limits of small talk.
She braced herself for a response instructing her not to pay him any never mind, but instead, he just nodded back and agreed. "It's a real great party." He appeared antsy, despite his light conversation—as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how to spit it out. But she did barely know the man; maybe he always acted this way in public. "Soooo—" he started clumsily.
"There you are!" Macey exclaimed, approaching Lonnie quickly. She swept up beside them in a heartbeat, blocking Lunther's access to the group. Where did she come from?
"Hi, Macey," Lonnie said, with a genuine smile. "Are you having a good time?"
She smiled. "Everything is wonderful so far. You have obviously done an incredible job."
Her face flushed with pride. "Oh... thank you. Meijing's cooking takes a lot of the credit, I think. Oh, Macey, I want you to meet my friend Dominick." She felt strange calling Dominick her "friend," when he was more than that, but what could she say? A friend whose cock I'd like to sample? No, that would hardly be a viable alternative.
While Dominick and Macey exchanged pleasantries, Lunther fidgeted about where he stood. He shifted his leg weight several times, and wiped sweat from his pudgy upper lip. Macey didn't even glance in his direction. Finally, he did an about-face, and abruptly left.
"Will you excuse me?" Macey said suddenly. "I want to go thank Meijing for the terrific job she's done with the catering. Pardon me." She skirted away.
"Isn't Macey cool?" Lonnie said, turning back to her extremely fetching friend. "Don't you think she's beautiful?"
Dominick shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't really notice."
"Oh." She felt a pang of foolishness as she realized that she'd just made a point of directing her date's attention to another woman's desirability. Boy, she really was rusty.
He put his hand on his stomach. "Wanna get something to eat?"
"Sure," she agreed. They approached the buffet table, and Lonnie smiled hello to Bette Linsey who was explaining to another woman why au pairs were truly "divine inventions."
Lonnie had just begun surveying the long expanse of delicious-looking Chinese dishes when, all of a sudden, Delia—literally—got in her face.
Shoving her body right in front of Lonnie's, she blocked her access to the dim sum. Her dangling earrings were unencumbered by her hair, which was efficiently plastered into a half-teased upsweep. A gust of hard alcohol breath hit Lonnie's nose, and she tried to back away, but Delia just leaned in closer. Their faces were mere inches apart when Delia sneered with disgust.
"You know something?" she said seethingly. "You don't know a damn thing about nothing." Seems reasonable. "You don't have a fucking clue." Then she stomped off.
Lonnie's face scrunched in confusion. "What the hell—?"
Dominick shook his head, equally confused, and put his hand on the back of her neck. He massaged it lightly, grinned, and said, "I thought the people I worked with were weird."
She was about to agree and make a joke about it, but his fingers were working the back of her neck unbelievably. Was it possible to climax from a neck massage? She felt heat pulsing between her legs. She turned to look up at him.
Unconsciously, her lips parted more and her pupils dilated. He noticed.
For a moment, he had the same intensity in his own face. His fingers strummed beneath her hair, and an irrational part of her wished he would tighten them, pull her to him, and kiss her passionately right there. Instead, his hand kneaded her skin even more deeply, and she thought she'd start moaning if she didn't put a stop to this.
Luckily—sort of—he got himself in check. If they were going to take it slow, then they'd better not tear off their clothes and do it on the buffet table, no matter how logical that option seemed. His hand dropped, and they averted their gazes just long enough to get back to reality.
"So...," she said a little breathlessly, "hungry?" She meant the food.
He didn't. "God, yeah."
* * *
The rest of the night moved along briskly, but it still seemed too long to Lonnie. Her glittery heels were starting to hurt and her stockings were starting to chafe. She was glad Peach finally met the Twit & Bell staff she'd been hearing about for the past six months. Matt had turned on the charm most of the night, making his interest in Peach clear.
Lyn Tang had showed up at 9:30, and Beauregard had done nothing to conceal his joy. The minute she walked in, his mouth dropped into an awed O and he rudely abandoned the conversation he'd been having with Bette and Lonnie about Bette's new yacht. Without even excusing himself, Twit abruptly walked away, sidled up to Lyn Tang, and began what would become a long night of obsequious fawning. From what Lonnie could see, Lyn had been more than gracious, but hadn't given any indications about joining the firm.
Now Lonnie looked at the clock. 11:44 p.m. She was sitting alone at a table because Dominick had just excused himself to go to the bathroom. As she sat there, she watched people mingling and saying goodbye, and she couldn't help thinking that while the party was a success, the whole night had seemed off. More than once, Lonnie had spotted B.J. trying to talk to Bette. She always either coldly dismissed him, or just dodged him altogether. Earlier, Lonnie had tried to introduce Peach to Macey, but Macey had acted perceptibly distant and distracted. Suffice it to say, Peach hadn't been all that impressed.
Suddenly Lonnie felt a hot, enticing breath on her ear. "You want to get out of here any time soon?" Hell, yes. Dominick's voice was low and sexy, and practically impossible for her to resist at the moment. He was standing behind her chair, crouched down, and she leaned into him a little. She could smell Dominick's cologne; it was subtle, but it was still having an arousing effect on her.
"Mmm... that sounds great. But Peach looks like she's having fun. Let's wait a little longer." It looked like her little sister was charming Judge Stephens, his wife, and Matt across the room.
"Okay," he murmured, and lightly nuzzled her hair with his forehead.
Lonnie sighed dreamily and leaned in to him a little more. He groaned softly. "Lonnie, you're making me crazy. I know we're taking it slow, but how about one kiss? C'mon, one kiss. Now. " She opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn't. She was desperate to kiss him. Peach was still immersed in conversation so she figured it would be okay.
He took her hand and they hurried out of the ballroom and down the hall. "Where are we going?" she called a
fter him, but he didn't answer. He just steered her around the corner to a room with an open archway. A gold-plated sign that read coats was screwed to the adjacent wall. The second they entered the room, Dominick grabbed Lonnie's waist and pulled her to him. Their kiss started breathy and passionate, but within seconds, became white-hot and wet. Lonnie clung to Dominick's shoulders, as he backed them both into a rack of coats and against the wall for support. Except it didn't feel like the wall....
It felt like a person.
Aah! Lonnie jumped forward, startled, her heart suddenly racing. Was someone there? Before she could say anything, she heard a sweeping noise, and then a loud thud. She and Dominick looked down and saw Lunther Bell's head and torso sticking out from under the coats. There was a smeared crimson line running down his neck and over his Adam's apple.
"Aah!" Lonnie screamed, and buried her face in Dominick's shoulder, willing away the image of Lunther lying on the floor with his eyes wide open. "Omigod, Omigod...," she was muttering to no one, and shaking. Dominick put both his arms around her and held tightly.
"Holy shit," he muttered soberly.
"Is there any way he's not dead?" Lonnie mumbled into his shoulder. "You know... maybe he's just... catatonic?" She was grasping at straws and she knew it. She had no experience with corpses, and even she could tell that Lunther was dead. His face was stark pale, his eyes were wide and blank, and his mouth hung open lifelessly. He couldn't have been dead long since Lonnie had just seen him in the ballroom... Wait. When was the last time she'd seen him at the party? She couldn't remember.
"He's dead, baby," Dominick said softly. "We've got to get someone. Come on." They started back down the hall, but hotel security stopped them in their tracks.
"Ma'am, what happened?" a security guard asked. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, with a prominent yellow badge on the lapel, and a mother-of-a-walkie-talkie hanging on the front of his pants. "We heard screams," he added, and motioned his head to the other security guard, who was a foot behind him.
Lonnie was near frantic. None of it seemed real, yet she'd never felt a more visceral fear or revulsion. She thought she was going to throw up. She felt like crying. She didn't even like Lunther, but it wasn't that kind of crying. It was a shook-up, horrified, for-whom-the-bell-tolls kind of crying. Tears burned the corners of her eyes, and vomit stayed clogged at the top of her throat.
Plum Girl (Romance) Page 11