Tor’s face grew serious. “Are you sure you want to do that? The press can be pretty unrelenting.”
Zeke shrugged. “It’s just one night. Hell, part of a night. One party. I don’t think it’ll take them very long to move on to something else.” He cut his eyes toward Tor. “Besides, I live on your land. I remember a time a few years ago when you had this place wired up like a fortress. I’m not too worried about anyone getting at me.”
“True.” Tor cut his hand through the air in a slashing motion. “We can take care of anyone who gets too close. Okay, then, let’s go get you suited up.”
As they entered the master bedroom and headed toward the closet, Tor turned back to ask one more question over his shoulder.
“She’s not planning on wearing that dress to the party, is she?”
HALF AN HOUR LATER, Zeke checked out his reflection in the mirror, something he didn’t do often.
Not long ago, he would have scoffed at the thought that he’d wear some monkey suit for any reason.
But for a date with Sophie Daniels?
A not-date, he reminded himself.
Whatever it was, he suspected an evening spent in Sophie Daniels’s company was going to be worth getting dressed up for.
“That’ll work,” Tor said. He had called in the wife of one of the seasonal workers he had hired and asked her to do some quick alterations to make sure the tuxedo fit Zeke. He handed her some folded bills as he thanked her and ushered her back out.
“You can take that out of my next paycheck,” Zeke offered.
Tor shook his head. “No. They’re good people. I plan to ask him to stay on after hay-baling season is over. I’m glad to give her work when I can.” He took a step back and looked Zeke up and down critically. “Looks good. But my shoes won’t fit you.”
“I’ll shine up my dress boots. They’re black. They’ll do fine.”
As he continued to stare at himself in the mirror, trying to decide what he thought of his new look, his phone rang. Absently, he answered it.
“You’re going out on a date with Sophie Daniels?” Colton’s incredulous voice echoed across the airwaves.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
Chapter Eight
When Tor Edwards had said he would arrange for their ride up to Dallas, Sophie hadn’t been sure what to expect. On the one hand, the man was a billionaire, so presumably, he could arrange for any kind of transportation he preferred. On the other hand, though the land was well cared for and the main house was nice enough, she’d seen no indication that he indulged in any kind of flashiness. She had half expected him to show up driving a pickup truck—perhaps a bigger version of Zeke’s. So she was delighted to see he had chosen a conventional limousine, complete with driver—a driver who wasn’t also the local Fire Marshal, this time.
When Zeke got out of the limo, her breath caught in her chest. Wearing a tuxedo, rather than his blue jeans, plaid shirt, boots, and hat, seem to give him an added air of—she wasn’t even sure how to put it–being less provincial and more debonair.
For an instant, Sophie wished this could have been a real date.
Most of the way to Dallas, they discussed neutral topics, though Sophie found the subject of cattle ranching suddenly utterly fascinating.
It wasn’t until they had reached the Dallas city limits that Sophie brought up the one topic that had been nagging at her all day.
“Zeke tells me that you changed your stance on Ten-Gallon Texas filming in Necessity.” Sophie leaned forward, her sharp and intent on Tor.
The billionaire rancher laughed easily. “I changed my vote in the town meeting. I never changed my stance,” he said with a smile. “And honestly, I think that this morning’s incident illustrates exactly why I was concerned.”
“But you have to realize that events like today’s are pretty unusual.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she reclined against the leather-upholstered seat, narrowing her eyes as she stared thoughtfully at Tor. “What’s your real reason for wanting to keep us out?”
There had to be more to it. It was clear that Tor Edwards liked and cared about Necessity, but as a general rule, Sophie didn’t know about the kinds of behind-the-scenes deals that went on before her job began when filming did. For her to have learned of Tor’s attempts to keep them out of Necessity, it had been a fairly intense battle.
She glanced at Zeke out of the corner of her eye, concerned that her direct approach to the question she had posed to his boss might be making him nervous. After all, he had stepped in to help her when he didn’t have to—she would hate to cause him any undue anxiety. However, he looked calm—merely interested in the conversation.
The answer hit her out of nowhere, as if she had been working on it subconsciously the whole time—as she probably had. “It’s the press,” she announced.
Tor’s startled expression would have given it away, even if Leta’s delighted laughter hadn’t. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, “she does have you pegged.”
The billionaire’s girlfriend leaned forward, speaking in an apparently confidential tone to Sophie, but loudly enough for everyone to hear her perfectly well. “He spent the entire week before the meeting figuring out exactly how he would have to upgrade security to make sure that none of the media attention to all of you overflowed to us.”
“You don’t have to give away all of my secrets,” Tor said to Leta, but everything about the way he said it, from his gentle touch on her back to the gleam in his eye to the indulgent smile on his face, belied the words.
Their interactions surprised Sophie. It had been a long time since she had seen a couple interacting in a way that seems so open and loving.
So genuine.
Another glance at Zeke suggested that there was nothing unusual about it, either.
I’ve been in Hollywood too long.
“Did you know about any upgraded security out of the ranch?” she asked Zeke.
His slightly lopsided grin was more than a little sheepish. “Why do you think I took you out there in the first place?”
“But if you hate media attention so much, then why all this?” Sophie waved a hand indicating Zeke’s tuxedo, the limo, Tor’s attendance at the Cattlemen’s Ball with Leta.
This time, Tor and Leta exchanged meaningful looks. Tor held out one hand, palm up, turning the question over to his girlfriend to be answered.
Leta never took her eyes off him as she said, in a voice as full of affection as his response to her had been earlier, “Tor and I have a history with charity balls. They’re still our favorite kind of event.”
“At least you’re not attending this one in your plane, boss,” Zeke broke into the conversation.
The others laughed aloud at this, and Sophie would have asked more questions, had they not pulled up to the Ritz-Carlton at that moment.
Sophie’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t realized how much she had relaxed in the last several hours until the tension came rushing back in. Eileen had called several Dallas media outlets to let them know she would be attending that evening. When Sophie had okayed it, she hadn’t realized she would be attending with Tor and Leta, or that Tor would be so press-averse.
Too late now.
Even as the chauffeur came around to open the door, photographers’ cameras were already flashing, set to take rapid-fire shots of anyone important who might emerge from the car. In this case, it was Tor, a recognizable figure in Dallas society. He handed Leta out of the car and then, rather than escorting her inside immediately, the billionaire took his girlfriend’s hand and stepped aside to give Zeke room to exit, as well.
Although Zeke wasn’t as adept at handing her out of the car as Tor had been with Leta, Sophie was glad for his steadying touch. Yet, as they stood on the red carpet leading in, Tor leaned over to murmur in Sophie’s ear. “You owe me for not insisting we take the back entrance.”
Sophie’s swift, startled glance was met with a reassuring twinkle in Tor’s eyes, and
Sophie found her practiced public smile dissolving into laughter.
This is going to be a good evening.
The four of them swept into the hotel ballroom for what Sophie hoped would be a turning point in her public image.
Chapter Nine
All his life, Zeke had heard about the Cattlemen’s Ball. He had never really been interested in attending—not that he had would’ve thought there was any chance, even if he had wanted to go. And even if he had imagined a night of dancing at the Ritz, it wouldn’t have been under anything like these circumstances.
For one thing, if he’d ever had a fantasy about dating Sophie Daniels, it would not have involved escorting her to a charity ball in Dallas.
This is not a date, he reminded himself yet again. If I can’t remember that, how can I expect anyone else to?
Now was not the time to be thinking of that, however. Right now, he needed to pretend that it was a date. Sophie tucked her hand through his elbow as they entered the ballroom. She smiled for the cameras, and he tried to follow her lead. Luckily, the cameras in here seem to be wielded by photographers employed to photograph the event, rather than news media photographers. A small stage at one end of the ballroom was set up for what Tor had told him would be an auction later in the evening.
Waiters in black carrying trays circled through the room, offering canapés and drinks to the men in tuxedos and the women in ball gowns. When they picked Sophie up, Zeke had been too anxious to notice much about what she wore under her wrap, other than noticing the quick flash of silver in the dress. Now he could see that it was a stunning silver blue that brought out the sparkle in her brown eyes and the gleaming chestnut highlights her hair.
She looked... right in this setting.
Of course, he’d thought much the same thing that afternoon when he came inside to find her standing at the cabin window, wearing that hideous brown dress and pressing her fingertips against the glass and staring out across the Texas landscape.
Maybe it was just the costume. Tonight she wore a ball gown, so she looked like she belonged in the ballroom. This afternoon, she had been wearing a dress—a costume, literally—fashioned after a frontierswoman’s dress, so a cabin suited her then.
A dance floor on the far side of the room held several twirling couples.
“Do you dance?” Sophie turned those brown eyes toward him, and he found himself wanting to say yes to whatever she asked. He forced himself to think before he answered, however.
“I two-step a little,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug.
“Oh.” Sophie’s face fell. “I don’t know that one.”
“It’s easy enough,” Zeke said. “I might be able to teach you if they played the right kind of music.”
Tor leaned in from behind them, where he and Leta had just arrived. “Don’t believe a word he says, Sophie,” the billionaire said. “Unless he’s forgotten everything he used to know, he’s a damn fine dancer.” He cut his eyes toward his employee. “And this is the Cattlemen’s Ball. They will be playing appropriate music for a two-step.”
At that moment, the band struck up an acoustic version of “Waltz Across Texas with You”.
“I believe that is my cue to ask you to dance,” Zeke said. He held out his hand with a flourish and bowed in as ostentatious a way as he could manage.
Sophie’s true laugh pealed out of her, and Zeke stood up, grinning.
With a curtsy, Sophie placed her hand in his and said, “Why, thank you, kind sir,” in her best faux-Texan accent—which was actually an excellent imitation of the voices Zeke heard every day.
She’s a great actress, he realized again.
As they strolled toward the dance floor, Zeke said, “Do I need to teach you to waltz, too?”
“Absolutely not. I’ve had years of dance training—all part of being an actress.”
She held herself like a dancer, Zeke realized. She wasn’t very tall, but she was slim and strong, and she stood with perfect posture. She was a dream as a dance partner.
Hell, for that matter, she was a dream as any kind of partner, as far as he could tell.
Until he tried to teach her the swing version of the Texas two-step.
She did fine with the basic two-step, both slow and fast. “I don’t see why they’re both called the two-step, though,” she said. “They’re different dances.”
“They both have a variation on two steps.”
“But the other one is more like the foxtrot than it is like this step.”
Zeke snorted. “You think we should lobby to have the name changed? Call it the Texas Foxtrot instead?”
“Yes.” She grinned widely, her eyes twinkling up at him, and it was as if Zeke were the only man in the world.
I could get used to this.
If only that were possible.
When he tried to add turns and dips into the dance, though, Sophie seemed to lose all dance ability.
As soon as he moved his hand from her fingertips to her waist to show her the direction of the turn, she stumbled and tripped, falling into him.
Part of him wanted to slow the moment down to look at it closely—he was almost certain the zing he’d felt through his hand and up his arm had affected her, too.
At the same time, he wanted to fast-forward to the next touch, and the next, and the one after that.
In the end, he opted simply to enjoy what time he had with her.
And to tease her a bit.
“What happened to the woman who had years of dance training?” Zeke demanded, his voice faux-indignant. “And why have you replaced her?”
“No. No more,” she gasped through her laughter. “I give up. I quit. I cannot keep up with your strange Texas dances. Let’s go get a drink.”
Sophie was still clinging to his arms, doubled over in laughter, when Tor met them at the edge of the dance floor, his expression solemn.
He had only seen that particular look on his boss’s face when things were going particularly awry. Whatever had caused Tor’s frown, it couldn’t be good. Zeke glanced around to locate Leta, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw her standing several feet away, chatting with a small group of other women. “What is it?” he asked.
Tor gestured them toward a secluded area near one of the windows. When they all got there, he stood facing the lights below, leaning toward Zeke and Sophie just enough to keep their conversation private. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and handed it to Sophie. “Your publicist tracked down my number to call—apparently spent quite a bit of time doing it, too, so all of this is been up for a while.” With a tap of his thumb, he brought the phone to life and pulled up a series of images. Sophie gasped and started flipping through them so quickly that Zeke could barely tell what they were.
“What’s going on?” Zeke asked. Sophie handed him the phone wordlessly, then turned to Tor.
“Has Leta seen this yet?” she asked.
Zeke barely heard Tor’s negative response as he began flipping through the images himself. They were all photos of Tor and Sophie. It took a moment for Zeke to realize that all of the photos have been taken as the four of them had walked into the hotel for this ball. However, the images on the website at all of carefully cropped so that only Tor and Sophie showed. There was no sign of Zeke or Leta.
The bulk of the photos showed different angles of only a few seconds when Tor and Sophie had been speaking. But they were all grouped under the heading “The Billionaire and the Movie Star.”
“I am so sorry,” Sophie said. “This was not my intention at all.”
Tor opened his mouth to respond, but Zeke was already speaking. “Of course it wasn’t. You didn’t even know that I knew Tor until after you had asked me about tonight.”
Tor blinked in surprise at Zeke’s sudden forcefulness, but took a step back as Zeke clasped Sophie’s hands in his. “I have an idea,” Zeke said. “Follow me.” Before he led her away, he leaned over and murmured something to Tor. The bill
ionaire nodded and headed off in the opposite direction.
“Where we going?” Sophie asked.
“Back to try that two-step again.” This time, as he spun her out onto the dance floor, Zeke was determined to make sure it was perfect.
“So part of your plan for this evening was to take the focus off of your breakup with the rock star and make you less interesting by associating with someone normal? Right?” Zeke kept his voice down as he spoke.
“Yes. But that’s ruined now. We know those pictures don’t mean anything, and everyone here tonight has seen the dance with you all night long. But the only thing that matters in my job is the broader public perception.” She sounded despondent.
Zeke glanced over her shoulder and saw Tor leading one of the paid photographers toward the dance floor.
“Let’s see what we can do to change that perception,” Zeke murmured.
This time, when he dipped her back over his arm and brought her back up, he pulled her tight against his chest.
She had just enough time to glance up at him, startled, with those wide brown eyes before he leaned down and claimed her lips with his own.
Chapter Ten
Over the course of her acting career, Sophie had probably kissed hundreds of men. But most of those had been stage kisses.
And for all that this kiss was supposed to be theatrical—and it was definitely designed to be caught on film—there was nothing at all insincere about it.
As a matter of fact, it might have been the hottest kiss she’d ever experienced. The feel of his firm lips against hers sent a shock through her entire body, leaving her shaking, trembling from surprise. Almost without her volition, her arms snaked up around his neck. Her fingers threaded through the back of his sandy brown hair, tugging him closer to her as if she could make sure the kiss never ended.
A deep, possessive sound echoed from somewhere down in his chest and tightened his arms around her even as his tongue gently teased her lips open. The heat of him filled her senses, like a drug that left her dizzy and reeling and wanting more. He tasted like summer to her—hot and clean and fresh. Aching desire swept through her in a way she would never have expected.
Loving Necessity: The Complete Necessity, Texas Collection Page 22