by Lori Foster
Sean broke into a huge grin, leading her off to the dance floor. “Works every time,” he called over his shoulder, before pushing his way through the shimmying crowd.
Gabe watched as Charlotte moved, noticing that several pairs of male eyes were watching her with predatory awareness.
He prayed he didn’t have the same look on his own face.
He didn’t want to be attracted to her. He didn’t want to change what they had. All this time, they’d been friends. At first, he could still superimpose the image of her as a bratty eight-year-old over her. When that didn’t work, he focused on her grubby jeans and oversize sweatshirts.
Frankly, he’d never let himself see Charlotte as a woman before. Now he didn’t have much choice. The proof of her transformation hit him in the face like a slap.
He watched as she laughed at some joke Sean was making. She looked incredible. She was happy, vibrant, so alive she almost shimmered with it.
He wanted her.
Want all you want, his conscience chimed in, but hands off. She’s a friend, remember?
He hated to admit it, but his conscience was right. It was the cornerstone of his life. Women come and women go, but friends are for life. After their massive fight this afternoon, he had gotten a taste of just how painful it could be if he lost his friendship with Charlotte. It might be bad if he couldn’t spend as much time with her because she got married. It would be a comparative hell, however, if he couldn’t see her ever again.
He was the first to admit that his relationships didn’t last long, and those that had lasted a long time had ended with harsh words and no further contact. He wasn’t about to risk that with Charlotte. If he did get physical with Charlotte, it would be a relationship. He wasn’t so dumb that he didn’t realize that.
So he wouldn’t get physical with her. He’d just be her friend, and that was that.
The song finished, and Sean led Charlotte away by one hand, grinning like a fool. Before they could make it to the side of the floor, another man stepped in front of Charlotte, stopping her.
Gabe shot to his feet.
Charlotte’s eyes widened as the man yelled something to her over the fast tempo of the next song. She glanced nervously at Sean, who shrugged. She bit her lower lip, then shrugged, herself, and accompanied the man back out on the dance floor.
Sean walked over to Gabe, whose mouth had dropped open. “Can you believe that? One dance, and that guy just sneaks in and steals Charlotte out from under me.”
Gabe ignored the disturbing thought that phrase provoked. “What were you thinking?” he yelled instead. “She’s off with a perfect stranger!”
“So?” Sean shrugged. “She seems to be holding her own. That was the point of this whole exercise, wasn’t it?”
Gabe saw the man try to dance a little too close to Charlotte, presumably under the pretext of whispering something to her. Gabe started to stride toward the floor with the intention of beating the man senseless.
“Whoa, whoa!” Sean grabbed him. “Easy, fella. She’s okay.”
Gabe growled but noticed that Charlotte firmly nudged the man away from her, shaking her head. She wore the same expression that she’d sent to Mike earlier. This is not for you, he saw her mouth to the man, frowning.
His breathing eased.
“You know,” Sean said perceptively, “if you’re not going to sell something, don’t put it in the window.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Gabe said, too intent on keeping track of Charlotte to really pay attention to his friend’s inscrutable words.
Sean gave him a gentle shove. “It means she looks beautiful, man. Leave her alone.”
“I am leaving her alone,” Gabe growled.
“Obviously.”
Charlotte walked back to the group with her dance partner following her like a puppy. She had a small smile on her face. She turned. “Thanks for the dance.”
“Can I have your number?” the man asked eagerly.
She thought about it for a minute. “No.”
“Why not?”
“You heard her, buddy,” Gabe said, glowering at him as he put an arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “Back off.”
“All right, all right. Jeez.” The man frowned at Gabe, then sent one last hopeful smile at Charlotte. “I loved your picture on the Web site. I can’t wait to tell the guys I danced with the Lone Shark Babe of the Week.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened as the man walked away.
“It was a great picture, you’ve got to admit,” Ryan said, chuckling at her surprise.
She arched an eyebrow at him, pinning him to the seat with a glare. “Really. And that was what prompted you to post it for twelve hours.”
Ryan smirked, unrepentant. “Got a good number of hits, too. The mystery thing really got a lot of guys going. Besides, I think they were starting to get tired of the models we were using.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Charlotte’s glare intensified.
“No, really. Well, they weren’t complaining. A babe is still a babe.” Ryan grabbed a handful of peanuts and shrugged. “But most of the babes we had on the site were these ‘hand me the cocoa butter’ babes that only exist on mythical tropical islands. No average guy is going to run into her in a supermarket.”
“So what’s your point?” Charlotte asked skeptically. “I’m a ‘pass the frozen peas’ babe?”
“The point is, you’re obviously in real life…you’re gorgeous, but you’re also available. And that’s kind of a turn-on.” He grinned lasciviously. “That thing with your tongue was pretty hot, too. I kept a copy of the photo for myself.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God…”
“Hey, can I get a few copies?” Sean inquired. “A couple of guys down at the surf shop wanted to see her, but she got taken off the site too soon.”
“No, you can’t,” Charlotte and Gabe said at the same time.
“All right, all right.” Sean looked pained. “Sheesh.”
Charlotte took a quick glance at her watch and groaned. “I’ve got to go, fellas. Thanks for the…education.”
The guys put up a chorus of complaints. “It’s still early,” Sean pleaded, smiling. “What, you got an early date tomorrow or something?”
“Two, actually,” she said, causing Gabe’s eyes to narrow. “The first being a spa date with Dana, starting with an early-morning jog. And since it’s Dana, that means really early.”
“What’s the other one?”
“You won’t believe it,” Charlotte said. “There’s this big party at the Century Plaza. Big formal dress thing. If he weren’t in such a jam for a date, I’d say no. I mean, you know I’m not comfortable at those kind of things. If I can just get through it without making a fool of myself, I’ll be happy.” She stared pointedly at Ryan. “Especially after the Web site thing.”
Ryan had the grace to look embarrassed. Gabe felt an aftershock of the guilt he’d been hit with that afternoon.
She nodded with satisfaction. “Well, I’m glad we both learned a lesson tonight,” she said, smiling. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Gabe said.
“It’s not that far….”
“I’m coming with you,” he said insistently.
“Don’t try to get her number,” Mike warned, grinning. “Trust me. She’s tough!”
They left amid a barrage of catcalls and loud commentary from the Hoodlums. Charlotte just smiled. Gabe didn’t.
“Thanks for the help, Gabe,” Charlotte said, unlocking Jellybean. “I know this can’t be easy for you.”
He grimaced. “What can’t be?”
“The fact that you’re trying to help me stick with this bet.” She shrugged. “I might have to pay you that thousand in installments….”
“Don’t be an idiot,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We’ll work out something.”
She nodded with a thankful smile, then shivered.
“Here,”
he said, taking off the light jacket he was wearing and throwing it over her shoulders. “You’ll catch cold.”
“How did I get lucky enough to get a best friend like you?” She gave him a quick hug.
He told his arms not to go around her, but they wouldn’t listen.
“Good night,” she said casually, obviously not having any of the problems he was having. She got in her car.
“Good night,” he replied, and watched her drive out of the parking lot.
He walked back in, frowning.
“Where’s your jacket?” Sean asked, glancing at him.
“Charlotte was cold.”
“She ought to be,” Mike joked. “That was not much of a dress she was wearing. But what she was wearing,” he said, rolling his eyes heavenward, “was choice.”
“So how’d we do?” Ryan asked. “Is she now a kick-butt, man-eating machine?”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I guess we helped,” Gabe replied. She certainly looked comfortable enough when she was dancing with that guy. “She’s not looking forward to that party tomorrow, though. I wish there were some way we could help her out. That thing with the Web site really got to her.” And he’d be damned if he saw her go through that much pain ever again.
“Wait a second…” Ryan said. “There might be a way. She said Century Plaza, right?”
“Right,” Gabe said hesitantly. “So?”
“So,” Ryan said, “that means it’s the Sheffield party.”
“Again, so?”
“So, I know the printer who makes all the Sheffield invitations,” Ryan said, and grinned expectantly.
It took Gabe a second for Ryan’s words to sink in. When they did, a matching grin spread across his face.
“Break out your tuxes, boys,” he said, snickering and feeling better for the first time that night. “Looks like we’ve got a party to crash.”
6
“I DIDN’T KNOW, CHARLOTTE. I swear to God, I had no idea.”
Charlotte didn’t even look up from her glass of champagne. “And I still believe you, Jack. Really. Just let it go.”
He studied her for a moment, his emerald eyes lighting with warmth. “I can’t believe you’re being so calm about this. If I were you, I’d be dumping that glass of champagne all over me.”
Charlotte grinned. “Now that I’ve made sense out of that sentence, it really isn’t as bad as all that, Jack.”
“There must be five hundred people out there,” Jack countered, “and they’re all staring at you. But that’s not a big deal?”
She thought about it a second. “Well, it’s not your fault I decided to wear red. And it’s not your fault that you didn’t remember that the Sheffield Ball is also called Los Angeles’ Black and White Ball because…”
“Everybody wears black and white,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“I think it was on the invitation that you didn’t really read,” Charlotte suggested. “Okay, so maybe it was your fault, a little. And it is definitely your fault that I’m sitting under a spotlight at the head table, but…”
Jack groaned and put his head down on his hands.
Charlotte laughed. “Okay. Feel guilty. You deserve it.”
“I owe you for this one, Charlotte.”
She shrugged again. “Jack, after what I’ve been through this week, this is nothing.”
When she had walked in with Jack, she had seen the sea of stark, unbroken black and white, and frozen. Five hundred pairs of eyes had snapped on her, staring as if she’d just emerged from a spaceship. It was strangely reminiscent of her old nightmare of showing up for a big class design review in her ratty old underwear. Her initial reaction had been to turn, run back out the doors, steal Jack’s keys from the valet and make an escape. But she hadn’t. Instead, she kept her chin up, her eyes wide and her smile bright. Even if she had a blush that matched her deep red dress, she wouldn’t let them see otherwise how humiliating the experience was.
The fact was, she loved the dress, and it was the first time in her life she could actually say that. She’d put up with the pastel confections that Derek, her ex-boyfriend, had created, and the similarly frail summer dresses that Dana had fobbed off on her. But this, a simple, minimal sheath in a dark burgundy, had practically yelled “Charlotte!” when she stepped into the store. She’d turned down all the peaches and pale pinks that Dana had suggested, and when she tried her dress on, even Dana and the saleswoman had to admit it was fantastic. It fit her like a glove, and she felt like a queen in it.
She remembered that every time she saw someone stare at her with a look of amusement, or worse, contempt. She looked pretty good in her red dress. Pretty darned good. So if everybody else was wearing black and white, so what?
She’d been caked in mud in front of the most eligible bachelor in America. She’d practically smeared whipped cream all over herself in a public restaurant. She was the pinup of the week on a national Web site. And she had made grown men weep at a nearby sports bar. Compared to all that, wearing red in front of a bunch of L.A. socialites was a cakewalk!
The funny thing was, she really needed to thank Gabe for his part in her new confidence, even if he didn’t realize that he had helped her. If he hadn’t pushed her, she never would have realized how much she could take…or how much she had to give. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow a lot of things she used to view as “terrifying” were suddenly trivial. She wasn’t going to die of embarrassment. In fact, she wasn’t even going to see most of these people again. The people she really cared about thought she was fine. More than that. They thought she was beautiful.
She was pretty sure Gabe thought she was, at least.
She frowned, remembering that strange moment in his office. He’d leaned so close she could practically feel currents of energy running off of him. For a brief, crazed moment, she thought he might have kissed her.
Not that that was what she wanted. She’d known for years that Gabe was handsome. If anything, he was too handsome. Men like that were never interested in women like her, so it hadn’t occurred to her to see him as anything but a friend. But for a brief moment, hadn’t she hoped…
No. That wasn’t going to happen. The things that were happening to her were strange enough.
“That’s quite a dress,” a woman walking past their table said, her voice catty.
“Thanks. I love it,” Charlotte said easily. “The way I see it, red stands out so much better against black and white, don’t you think?”
“I certainly think so,” the woman’s date agreed, giving Charlotte a serious once-over and leering. Charlotte winked at him. The woman gasped in shock before hurrying her date away, hissing at him as they left.
Charlotte looked at Jack, who was goggling at her. “What?” she asked, smoothing her hair.
“Who are you, and what have you done with Charlotte Taylor?”
She chuckled. “I know. It’s like the invasion of the pod people, only this time with a sense of humor.”
Jack shook his head. “You amaze me, Charlotte. You don’t seem like the girl I had dinner with the other night at all.”
She sobered slightly, considering his words. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just…well, it’s like somebody found your volume control and turned it all the way up.”
She shot him a skeptical glance. “And that’s supposed to be better?”
He grinned and gently stroked his fingertip along her jawline. “It is when you’ve been whispering for years, beautiful.”
She smiled again. If this kept up, her cheek muscles were going to be cramping. But she couldn’t help herself.
“I need to go mingle…there are some big fund-raisers here tonight,” Jack said. “Want to come with me?”
“Nah,” she said. “I’ve talked to more people tonight than I have in years. I thought I’d people-watch a little bit, maybe sit out on the sidelines.”
“Okay, pretty girl,” Jack said. “Give me half an hour and I’ll take you home.”
“Deal.”
He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then headed out toward the milling guests. They clumped around him like iron filings on a magnet. He disappeared into the crowd.
She stood up and started walking toward one of the freestanding bar setups, eager to get a glass of ice-cold water. He was a nice guy, that Jack. After her years of not dating at all, he was an incredibly good “training wheels” date. The only person who had been more sweet and supportive than he was…
She blinked. Was Gabe, now that she thought about it. But Gabe was just a friend, so naturally he didn’t count.
There it was again, that flash from Gabe’s office.
No, Charlotte. He doesn’t count.
A honey-blond woman stopped her, looking her over. “Great dress,” she said. Her tone was genuine, with none of the sarcasm or venom of the woman Charlotte had spoken with earlier.
“Thanks,” Charlotte said, smiling. “I have to admit, though, I didn’t know about the black-and-white dress code thing.”
“Really?” The woman smiled back, and her voice was warm. Charlotte thought she recognized her from a movie she’d seen. “I was sitting at my table envying the hell out of you, ready to rip into my agent for not thinking of trying a red dress last year. You’re getting great buzz tonight, so I figured you must be an actress.”
“No,” Charlotte hastily explained. “I’m a designer.”
“That explains it,” the woman said, snapping her fingers. “It’s written all over you. Have I seen your fall collection?”
It took Charlotte a minute to figure out what she was asking. Then she quickly shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m not that kind of designer. I’m a graphic designer. I haven’t done fashion stuff in years.”
“You might want to rethink that. That dress suits you perfectly…it’s simple yet smashing. Sort of Grace Kelly does Versace.”
Charlotte glanced down at her dress, grinning foolishly. “You know, I was thinking more Audrey Hepburn does Vera Wang.”
“Better!” The woman reached inside her purse and handed Charlotte a card. “That does it. If you’re up for it, I’d love to have you work with me on my dress for the Oscars next year. I’m always looking for a killer stylist. I have a good feeling about you.”