She glanced at him. Her heart was pounding, her skin felt warm and energy buzzed in her veins. Maybe she did.
The door beside her opened unexpectedly, and she realised the car had stopped. She felt a blush bloom in her cheeks. They’d pulled up at one of the most famous residences in the world, but all she’d seen was him.
Where had he come from, shaking up her orderly, controlled life like this?
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Ready.’
He followed her out of the car and offered his arm. She took it and fell in step with his long strides. She noticed the change in him immediately. Outside the car, that coiled energy about him came back to life. He stood taller, and his head swivelled as he took in his surroundings. Secret Service agents looked sharp in their tuxedos as they held their posts. Paparazzi stood in a designated area with their long-range lenses. The whir of cameras was constant, along with the occasional flash, and his steps quickened.
It was dusk now, with the sun rapidly setting. The spotlights on the White House had been lit, and the sandstone practically glowed.
It made Rielle gape. The illusion made her visit seem even more magical.
The political paparazzi must have thought so, too, because cameras were flashing all around them. Her date turned his back on them easily. ‘Just a few more steps, and we’ll be out of their range,’ he promised.
She nodded. She didn’t like being in the limelight. Trying not to be obvious, she used him as a shield so she wouldn’t be in many of the shots.
Luxxor lived in the shadows, and she preferred to keep her anonymity too.
He swept his arm around her and tucked her closer against his side, sheltering her. He subtly presented his back to the cameras and blocked their views until they made it to the reception area. Up so close, she could feel how strong he was. How muscled and lean.
Not like the accountants she knew at all.
Flustered, she pulled away to take off her coat. The staff helped check it, and they were guided to the reception desk. The welcome was warm, but there was a seriousness about it. The country’s leader lived within these walls. Rielle was relieved to see that her name had made it onto their guestlist, right next to Melvin Summers.
Melvin. Mel. Why was his name so difficult for her?
His hand lighted on the small of her back as they walked into the Entrance Hall. She’d seen pictures in books and movies, but it was so much more impressive in person. Waiters were milling around with appetisers and drinks. Her date nabbed glasses of champagne for both of them, then directed her towards a long, winding queue of people.
‘We’ll want to get into the receiving line before it gets any longer.’
‘This is the receiving line?’ It wound about the edge of the room and disappeared into the next.
‘Unfortunately, yes.’
She was already about to meet the President? But she didn’t know what to do or what to say.
‘How does it work?’ She took a sip of her drink. This was happening way too quickly. She wasn’t like him, impulsive and brash. She liked to have her days planned out. She liked to be prepared. ‘Are we supposed to say something first? Do we wait for her to talk?’
‘There’s a protocol. Just copy what everyone else does. It will be old hat by the time we make it to the front of the line. We’ll say a few words, take a photo and it will be over before you know it.’
Everyone else.
Rielle looked around the imposing room, with its décor that dated back to the country’s roots. Mel was evaluating the scene, too, but his focus was more on the people. They were just as impressive. All the men wore tuxedos and the women were exquisite in beautiful gowns.
Thank goodness for Nina’s closet.
They were getting stares in return. Her date naturally drew women’s attention, and men seemed to steer away from him. In a room of power players, he was an alpha. Job title didn’t matter.
And she was with him.
His hand still touched her low on the back, and her skirt swayed around his legs. They looked like they were together.
It made her feel funny inside. She wasn’t an escort, but she wasn’t truly a date. How far would she be expected to go?
‘Are we allowed to shake her hand?’ she asked. ‘Do you want me to step out of the picture?’
His head swivelled back around to her. ‘What?’
‘It’s a picture of you and the President. You won’t want that to include a total stranger.’
His brow furrowed. ‘Yes, you can shake their hands, and yes, you’re going to be in the damn picture.’
Her tongue touched the back of her lips. OK…
‘You said there will be a meal. Who will be at our table? What will we talk about? I don’t know much about Sweden.’
‘Rielle, relax.’ Goosebumps popped up on her neck. His lips had nearly brushed her ear, he was so close.
‘But everyone else here is prepared for this. Look at them.’
‘I don’t want to look at them. I’m looking at you.’
She blew out a breath. ‘I want to make sure everything goes well for you tonight.’
He resumed his protective spot next to her, placing himself between her and the crowd. ‘It’s already gone way better than I’d thought it would. I found you, a smart, beautiful woman who can make sure I stay on my toes. My only problem is that you’re so wound up. Take a deep breath. Enjoy. You don’t need to do any more than that.’
‘I just can’t believe I’m here.’
‘You have just as much right to be here as anyone.’
But she still wasn’t convinced that Security wasn’t going to identify her as an interloper and drag her off.
He rubbed her back in a small circle. ‘So tell me this. Was coming out with me tonight worth the risk?’
There was no sign of a smile on his lips, but she caught the glint in his eye. That was what finally made her tension let go.
Which was a warning in and of itself.
‘Ask me again later,’ she said.
She had a feeling that the riskiest part of tonight was him.
As long as the line was, it moved much too quickly as they neared their hosts. Then it became a blur. Rielle didn’t remember what she said or if she remembered to smile. There was the flash of a camera, and it was over.
She nearly floated on air as she took Mel’s arm again. ‘The Princess of Sweden said she liked my dress,’ she murmured in amazement.
‘I like your dress.’
She blushed. The look he gave her said he liked it in a whole different way than the Swedish royal. ‘Thank you.’
They followed the trail of guests to dinner. The State Dining Room was in the southwest corner of the White House on the first floor, and it was just as impressive as the Entry Hall. Rielle barely blinked as she tried to take everything in and store it in her memory. The dining room was large and filled with circular dinner tables covered in snow-white tablecloths. The place settings were exquisite, with large plates that looked to be trimmed with gold.
And to think she’d planned to have a salad for dinner.
‘Do you have other coworkers attending?’ she asked. He was once again people-watching. His attention swung back to her. ‘You seem to be looking for someone,’ she explained.
His expression clouded, and he rubbed his chin. ‘Sorry, I should pay more attention to you.’
She shook her head. She was happy to just be along for the ride. ‘Conduct your business. I’m more than entertained.’
‘I shouldn’t be so obvious.’
He wasn’t. Not really. Everyone was taking in the scenery and greeting one another. There was just an edginess to him, an alertness that hadn’t been there when they’d been at Luxxor. He apparently had important business to conduct, and that was fine.
She didn’t need his attention on her any more than it already was. Her hand was warm from holding his arm, and the small of her back still tingled.
‘We should
take our seats,’ Rielle murmured.
The receiving line was getting close to an end, because the room was filling with guests. Each of them had an assigned seat. Theirs were at a table at the end, fortunately facing the rest of the room. They could see anything that might happen. Rielle felt another twinge of happiness when she found her name on a table tent, just like everyone else’s. The staff here knew their jobs. Not a detail had been missed, even with the late change in plans.
She tucked the note into her purse. She was keeping it as a souvenir.
Mel pulled back her chair and she sat down. When he took the chair next to her, he tangled with her dress again.
‘Sorry,’ she said, trying to pull in its volume.
His hand settled on her leg under the table. ‘Leave it. It’s fine.’
Heat rushed up her leg, and she stopped fussing. The woman seated to her right said hello, and Rielle stumbled over her own name. Her date watched her as he left his hand where it was, and her breaths turned unsteady. She placed her hand over his. His eyelids were heavy as he gave in, but before he let her go he gave a soft squeeze.
‘I like it.’
The resulting tug of arousal was strong and hot and centred only inches from where his hand had lain. Rielle stiffened and tried not to stare when he opened a napkin across his lap.
The President gave a short speech, in which she congratulated the Prince and his new bride on their marriage. Rielle tried hard to listen. It was hard to hear past the thumping in her ears. Intimacy was a thing of the past to her, but it was roaring back to life now.
At last dinner was served, and she concentrated on her table manners. It was a delicious five-course meal, filled with Swedish cuisine. Through it all, her date was charming. He spoke to her and others at the table, but she sensed the precise moment that his attention split. By dessert, she’d begun to study him. He was discreet, but he was definitely watching somebody. A business rival? A coworker he didn’t like?
Because the air around him was not easy-going any more.
She frowned and finished her Prinsesstårta dessert. It was truly none of her business. She doubted anyone else noticed, but she’d felt the full force of his personality.
He was looking for someone – or watching someone.
She let her gaze wander over the nearby tables. He wasn’t being overt. It took her several minutes before she determined it was a beautiful brunette seated at a table near the middle of the room. He didn’t stare outright, yet his gaze kept returning to the exotic-looking woman over and over again.
Jealousy immediate shot through Rielle.
There was no basis for it. She had no claim on him. She worked at an escort service. He’d needed a date on his arm, and she was merely stepping in to help out. Yet her movements were jerky as she folded her linen napkin.
The festivities soon moved to the East Room for the evening’s entertainment. A popular singer was performing, reportedly one of the Prince’s favourites. He started with some of his recent hits and then slowed it down with some classic romantic ballads. The dancefloor began to fill, and Rielle was surprised when Mel caught her hand.
‘Let’s dance.’
Her eyes widened. Yet another surprise to the evening. She followed him to the floor and moved into the proper dance hold.
He tugged her closer until their bodies touched. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve gone quiet, and you’re not excited any more. I can feel it.’
Her lashes fluttered downwards. She wasn’t as good at hiding her feelings.
‘Did you not like me touching you?’
Her lashes flicked right back up. Not like it? Even now, his body was pressed against hers as they moved in time with the music. He felt big and muscled against her, warm and inviting.
‘No. That was…fine.’
‘Fine?’
Warmth crept up her neck. More than fine.
Swaying in time with the music, she could feel the flow of his body. The play of sinew and warm flesh. He was holding her so closely that her nipples were hardening. When she and he turned, his thigh brushed intimately between hers, and her body threw off another crazy reaction. No, she was not averse to him touching her.
‘I’m fine,’ she insisted. ‘You were the one who was invited to this. I’m trying not to get in your way.’
‘Good,’ he said quietly. ‘Because I’m having trouble keeping my hands off you.’
She bit her lip. ‘It’s the dress.’
He swung her out of the way of an advancing couple on the dancefloor. ‘It’s not the dress – but it sure isn’t helping.’
Pleasure worked its way through her, and she softened against him. The song ended, but they barely broke stride as the singer started another. She felt his fingers moving on her waist, and it was all she could do not to slide her hand from his shoulder to his chest.
Pressed against him so intimately, she felt the tension when it entered his body yet again.
Her head was practically on his shoulder, but she peeked behind her to see what had captured his attention this time.
It was the brunette.
Rielle stopped dancing, ice suddenly running through her veins. ‘Who is she?’
His head snapped towards her. ‘Who?’
‘The dark-haired woman.’
She started to point, but he grabbed her hand and swung her back into the dance. Rielle didn’t want to make a scene, but she refused to help him if he was harassing another woman. ‘You’ve been staring at her all evening. Are you stalking her?’
‘Stalking her? I haven’t been…’ He rolled his jaw. ‘You’re too damn distracting. It’s throwing me off my game.’
His game? The woman was beautiful, with hair so dark it glinted blue, and eyes that were wide and exotic. Did he find her attractive? Was that it? He’d found someone better?
‘And it’s not for that reason, either,’ he growled.
Rielle felt herself flush. Was she that easy to read? She had no right to feel jealous.
‘Then why?’ she demanded. He was trying to make her feel guilty, but she’d ignored enough warning signs tonight to be angry with herself.
He stared hard at her for a long moment. ‘Why are you so observant, Beauty?’
‘What?’
‘I told you that I people-watch, but you’re way more intuitive than me.’
Her gaze flicked away.
‘Why is that?’ he asked.
She missed a step. He pulled her close again, and a hot shiver went down her spine when he whispered into her ear. ‘What do you see when you look at her?’
‘She’s pretty,’ she said.
‘That’s obvious to anyone. Tell me more.’
Rielle started to crane her neck to see, but he swung her around so she wouldn’t be obvious. ‘She’s got money. That bag she’s carrying isn’t cheap.’
‘It’s also godawful. What do you women carry in those things?’
The designer bag was huge. It overwhelmed the woman’s small stature, but it was difficult for Rielle to concentrate. They were still dancing, and he felt so good, she swore her vision blurred.
‘What else?’
She shrugged. ‘She’s got RBF.’
He cocked his head.
Rielle frowned. It really wasn’t polite. Not at an event like this.
‘Tell me.’
She lowered her tone. ‘Resting Bitch Face.’
His chest jumped as he held back a laugh, yet his eyes were glinting as he looked down at her. They were so close, their noses nearly brushed. ‘Bingo.’
She shook her head in confusion. ‘That’s what’s been bothering you? What does it matter?’
‘It stands out, especially on a night like tonight.’
It did…but so what?
‘Maybe she had a fight with her boyfriend. Maybe she doesn’t like the food or she has a migraine?’
‘Maybe.’ He nodded towards an older couple danci
ng next to them. ‘What do you think of those two?’
‘Wealthy, self-involved.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘The necklace his wife is wearing, and the way they don’t care if they’re about to run over us on the dancefloor.’
‘Uh oh.’
She held on as he got them out of the way, and they ended up in a corner by the band. It was a fun game to play. How good at it was he? She stood on tiptoe so he could hear. ‘Tell me about the man at the table with the blonde.’
‘A lefty who knows how to handle himself, but not as good as his date.’
Her jaw dropped. He hadn’t even looked. ‘How do you know that?’
‘The way he’s playing with that knife.’
‘And her?’
‘Short nails, the definition in her arms and the bruise on her shin.’
Rielle tucked her chin into his shoulder as she evaluated the couple. All the signs were there, but who noticed that type of thing?
His lips brushed against her ear. ‘Tell me about the guy with the red pocket handkerchief to your right.’
Rielle glanced, but quickly turned her back. ‘A congressman, likes Italian food and keeps late hours.’
‘How the hell would you know…Oh.’
Yes, the man was another Luxxor client, but she couldn’t say that.
‘And the balding guy at the table at two o’clock?’
She smirked. ‘Now he’s what I would have guessed to be an accountant.’
‘Touché,’ Mel said, taking her in a quick turn.
Rielle still didn’t allow him to spin away her concerns. She met his gaze as they found themselves again in a corner away from the other dancers. They’d been pressed together for so long, her nipples were raw and her panties were moist.
Yet her head was still screwed on right.
‘You know, I’ve been working on my taxes. Can you explain to me how to calculate the basis of some stock I sold last year?’
One of his eyebrows lifted. ‘We’re dancing at a Presidential reception and you want to talk taxes?’
‘Yes.’ She most certainly did.
He met her challenging look dead on. ‘Basis is the cost you paid for the stock times the number of shares, plus any transaction fees. It should all be there on your record of sale.’
Courting Danger Page 3