by Tee O'Fallon
He reached for the handle, not opening the door. “Give me a few seconds to look around.”
She nodded and slipped on her pink silk wrap.
He stepped out, and cameras flashed. Most of the reporters still didn’t know who Dayne was, but they saw what she saw—an extremely authoritative-looking man whose raw good looks would turn heads. So they took his photo anyway.
Seconds later, he held out his hand. His fingers closed around hers as he assisted her onto the runner. More cameras flashed, one after the other. She pasted on her smiling, public face, preparing for the inevitable and repetitive questions.
“Miss Vandenburg, is this your date for the evening?”
“Who is he?”
“What’s your name, sir? Are you an FBI agent?”
“Miss Vandenburg, is it true someone tried to kill you?”
Yes, she wanted to scream. Then a microphone appeared in front of her face, so close to her nose she flinched. Dayne knocked it away, then his arm came around her shoulders and he ushered her quickly to the front door.
As soon as they were inside, he cut loose with a string of fascinating words she’d never heard before, finishing with, “I still don’t know how you put up with those animals.”
She patted his arm then placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “You get used to it.”
“Maybe you do.” He guided her to the elevators where a building security officer held one open for them. “That’s something I could never get used to.”
Emptiness filled her soul because that was something any man would have to get used to. If they wanted to be a lasting part of her life.
The elevator whisked them to the top floor. The doors parted, and they were greeted by orchestra music, laughter, and the clinking of fine crystal. An enormous chandelier, hand-picked by her mother, hung over the floor where nearly fifty couples danced.
As soon as she handed her wrap to the coat-check person, Dayne leaned closer. “How long do we have to stay?”
“Unfortunately, too long. This is my charity gala, so it would be rude and inappropriate for me to leave early.” Although it would have been nice to stay home with Dayne’s friends, especially Tess. She and Eric’s fiancée were about the same age, and when Tess came to the Haven a month ago to pick out a dog, Kat had liked the other woman and wanted to get to know her better.
Worried he’d bolt, she tightened her hand around Dayne’s arm. He might not be anything more than her bodyguard, but she was proud he was her “date” for the evening. Even if it wasn’t a real date.
A waiter appeared, holding out a silver tray loaded with slim, delicately cut champagne flutes. “Thank you.” She accepted a flute, and when Dayne didn’t take one, she handed him her glass and took another from the tray. “Drink it,” she said when the waiter moved off. “You’re too stiff.” She held back a snort. He certainly had been earlier. Stiff, that is.
“I’m on duty.”
“You’re always on duty. Try breaking the rules this once. It might make you feel better to have a little drink.”
“I don’t drink champagne.”
Aside from that one beer at his parents’ house, she’d never seen him drink alcohol. “Do you drink anything other than beer?” She guided them to the far side of the ballroom where Senator Graham chatted with several other wealthy New York businessmen. All wore tuxedos, but none held a candle to her date.
“Occasionally, scotch.”
She held up her champagne flute, signaling to a nearby waiter who sprinted over. “Yes, Miss Vandenburg.”
“Please find Mr. Andrews some of that Chivas Regal Royal Salute. The fifty-year-old bottle.”
“Fifty?” Dayne’s brows shot to his hairline.
She rolled her lips inward, trying not to giggle at the shock on his face. “Technically, it’s pushing seventy years old now. The Chivas brothers bottled it in 1953 as a tribute to Queen Elizabeth II on the day of her coronation. There were only two hundred and fifty-five bottles vinted.”
“Would you like ice, sir?” the waiter asked.
Dayne made a scoffing sound. “Neat,” he said, and when the waiter disappeared in search of the Royal Salute, added, “No self-respecting scotch drinker would dare water down liquid gold with ice.” He deftly deposited his champagne flute on another passing waiter’s tray.
“There are people I’d like to introduce you to.” She took his arm and serpentined through the couples milling about, stopping occasionally when one of the hired photographers took their picture.
“That’s another thing,” Dayne said. “Do you ever get tired of having your picture taken?”
“Hazards of the job.” On the other side of the ballroom, Colin stood with Penny, Elaina, Nat, and that wretched Crystal Lockwood. She gave a slight twist of her lips. One look at that woman was enough to make the air go sour.
“See someone you don’t like?”
“Does it show that much?” When had he come to read her thoughts so well?
“It does.” He squeezed her hand, making her realize how much she missed his touch. “Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone else can see it.”
“That’s a relief.” Since birth, she’d been carefully schooled in the art of masking her dislike for someone, especially at charity events. Even the truly detestable wrote sizeable checks.
They joined a group of three older men in their sixties. “Senator Graham.” She kissed the senator on the cheek. “It’s always an honor to have you at one of our events.”
He smiled down at her, reminding Kat of why she truly liked him. For a high-powered state representative, his warmth was genuine. “Katrina, it’s an honor to be invited. You look lovely as always.”
“Thank you, John. I’d like to introduce you to Dayne Andrews.”
“Senator,” Dayne said as the two men shook hands.
Next, Kat introduced the other men. “This is Charles Worthington, CEO of Worthington Consolidated. And Max Rocher, owner of Rocher Industries.” Dayne shook their hands.
“What do you do, son?” Senator Graham asked.
Beside her, Dayne tensed. “I’m an FBI agent.”
The senator’s face lit up. “What fascinating work that must be. I’ll bet it keeps you on your toes.”
“That it does.” The tension ebbed from Dayne’s body, leaving her wondering if he’d expected to be ridiculed because of his occupation.
“What kinds of cases do you work on?” Charles Worthington asked.
“It depends. I’m a K-9 agent, so I get assigned to a lot of search-and-rescue operations. Occasionally, I work on homicides, bank robberies, and terrorism investigations.”
“K-9?” Max Rocher’s brows knitted. “So your partner is a dog?”
Dayne grinned. “She is, and she’s the best partner I ever had.”
They all laughed, and Kat smiled up at him with a smug look intended to convey: See, you fit in better than you expected.
“Did I just hear your partner is a dog?” Senator Graham’s wife, Betty, slipped her arm around her husband’s waist.
Kat’s heart squeezed at the affectionate gesture. Forty years of marriage and they still loved each other.
The waiter who’d taken her order for the Chivas Royal Salute arrived with a cut crystal tumbler containing an inch of gold liquid. “Sir, your scotch.”
Dayne took the glass then held it up to the light, turning it around in his hand before taking a sip, then smiling like she’d never seen him smile before. “So this is what I’ve been missing all my life.”
“Is that the fifty-year-old Salute?” Senator Graham pointed to Dayne’s glass.
“It is.” Kat nodded.
“Well, son. You must be someone very special to our Katrina. She doesn’t whip out a ten-thousand-dollar bottle for just anyone.”
That was true. Even her f
ather rarely passed it around when he was alive. With Dayne, she hadn’t thought twice about it.
Dayne choked. Clearly, he’d had no idea what that bottle cost.
Charlie gave him a few pats on the back. “Don’t waste any of it. Enjoy every last drop.”
Dayne chuckled. “I’ll do that.”
For the next ten minutes, Kat listened while the older men threw question after question at Dayne about his cases, funding for federal law enforcement, the FBI budget… Each time, he answered intelligently and articulately. Even Betty Graham seemed fascinated, and a few other couples had joined their circle to listen in.
Kat took in the strong lines of Dayne’s profile, admiring the easy, natural way he had with these old bastions of industry and politics.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of another couple she wanted to introduce Dayne to. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to introduce Dayne to the mayor and his wife.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you.” He shook hands with the senator, Charlie, and Max, as if he’d known them for years.
She started to guide Dayne toward the mayor when Betty Graham touched her on the arm, pulling her down to whisper, “He’s quite handsome, and a hunk, too.” Betty winked before walking off.
Heat crept into her face. Yes, I know.
The grin on Dayne’s face was more of a smirk.
“Heard that, did you?”
“Yep. Handsome, huh? And, a hunk, too.”
“Maybe a little,” she admitted, averting her face so he wouldn’t see how affected she was by Betty’s comment. “You’re a natural at this.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he muttered.
Unexpectedly, she was thoroughly enjoying the evening. Despite the tension still lingering between them.
The mayor of New York City was a few inches shorter than Dayne but had the presence of royalty. In a way, he was. The duly elected ruler of The Big Apple.
“Mayor D’Amici, Mrs. D’Amici, I’d like to introduce Dayne Andrews.”
“Special Agent Andrews.” The mayor clasped Dayne’s hand, shaking it exuberantly. “Good to see you, again.”
This time it was her brows that shot to her hairline. She had no idea Dayne knew the mayor.
“What a pleasure.” Fran D’Amici extended her exquisitely French manicured fingers for Dayne to clasp. A tiny spurt of jealousy hit Kat. For her, a perfect manicure wouldn’t last two days. Not with all the dog care she did.
“Are you here without your beautiful partner?” the mayor asked.
“Sadly,” Dayne said, “dogs are generally frowned on at charity balls.”
“Nonsense.” Fran waved a dismissive hand. “We love dogs as much as Kat does. You should have brought her.”
“From what I recall, your partner is smarter than many of the people here tonight.” The mayor chortled loudly.
“When did you all meet before?” Kat looked from Fran and the mayor to Dayne.
“Last year,” he said, “I assisted on a protection detail at City Hall. Our paths crossed a few times.”
“Tony absolutely loves dogs.” Fran patted her husband’s arm.
“Yes, I know.” Kat smiled warmly at the mayor. “The Canine Haven is grateful for your generous contributions.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Mayor, Mrs. D’Amici.” Colin’s voice came from directly behind them, and Kat cringed inwardly. After their last awkward conversation, she’d hoped to avoid him most of the night. “I see you’ve met Katrina’s bodyguard. The FBI agent,” he added with a subtle sneer in his tone.
Kat gripped the champagne flute tighter, annoyed by Colin’s condescending manner.
“Yes,” Fran said, briefly resting her hand on Dayne’s upper arm. “We’ve actually met before, and he’s still as charming and handsome as ever.”
Kat sent the mayor’s wife a grateful smile at her show of support. Even Fran had picked up on Colin’s snotty attitude.
“Yes, well.” Colin cleared his throat, clearly not expecting to have his attempt at undermining Dayne so bluntly rebuffed. “I need to steal Katrina away for a moment.”
Kat bit back a frosty reply. She didn’t want to leave Dayne’s side. Not because he couldn’t handle himself. He could and most definitely was. But she was enjoying his company. As much as Colin deserved to be shot down, it would be rude of her to say no.
Colin clasped her hand, tugging her toward the dance floor. Along the way, he took the champagne flute from her and thrust it at a waitress, sloshing some of the contents on the young woman’s uniform. “Take this.”
The orchestra played the Prelude to the Sound of Music, one of her favorite songs. Colin swung her into his arms, and when they were far enough away from where Dayne eyed them over the mayor’s head, she ground her teeth then lit into him. “That was uncalled for. Dayne and the waitress.”
He swung her around again. “Bringing that agent here as your escort was uncalled for. This afternoon I called to confirm I was picking you up today. Someone named Kade answered and told me you’d already gone. With that FBI agent.”
“You and I never had plans to go together.” She flexed her fingers, forcing him to ease up on his tight hold.
“I logically assumed we would.” His eyes blazed. “We always go to these things together.”
“You shouldn’t have made that assumption. Despite our conversation the other day, we are not a couple and never have been.”
His eyes softened. “I want to change that. Then you won’t need him hanging around. You’ll have me. He doesn’t fit in here, and he doesn’t belong here with you. I do.”
“You’re wrong.” Rage raced through her body, and the heat creeping to her face had nothing to do with Colin’s closeness or any sort of passion. “He fits in just fine. In fact, he’s got better manners than you at the moment.”
“You don’t mean that.” He tugged her closer so their chests touched.
When she looked into his face it was like staring into the eyes of a stranger. Why had she tolerated his obnoxious behavior for so many years? Because he was one of the few people who didn’t want her for her money.
She’d rather have no one than put up with him anymore. Viewing her life from Dayne’s perspective had changed hers.
Over Colin’s shoulder, she glimpsed Dayne standing in the middle of several pretty women vying for his attention. Even as he said something that made them all laugh, he tracked her and Colin around the dance floor.
“Katrina? Katrina?” Colin hissed. “If you’d stop drooling over your bodyguard for a minute, you’d see the man you’re supposed to be with is right here in front of you.”
“No, Colin. He’s not.” With dozens of couples staring at them, she jerked her hand from his and walked away. Her hands trembled. She may have just permanently alienated a man who’d been her friend for most of her life. Did I do the right thing? If she didn’t, it was too late now.
As she neared the group of women milling around Dayne like a harem, including Elaina, Penny, and Nat, one voice rose above the others. A voice she detested.
Crystal Lockwood.
The daughter of one of the most powerful Wall Street investment bankers was, to put it mildly, an untrustworthy, backstabbing b-i-t-c-h. There. I said it. Well, thought it, anyway. The woman had always been horrid, and she wondered who Crystal was venting her bitchiness on this time. It was a shame that she and her father were on every socialite invitee list in the city.
Kat paused behind Penny and the other women, trying unsuccessfully to see over their heads at whom Crystal was shouting.
“That is the ickiest celery-green dress I’ve ever seen,” Penny said. “It reminds me of vomit.”
Kat had to agree. And with every move and shake of her arms, Crystal’s unrestrained breasts jiggled and threatened to make a guest appearance from the frighteningly low-c
ut dress.
Elaina snickered. “She must be wearing a quarter inch of pancake on her face, and those false eyelashes are long enough to trip over.”
Nat shook her head. “Someone really needs to tell her that shade of blond exists nowhere in nature. It makes her look like a banshee.”
That seemed a little harsh, even to Kat. But it’s so true! The way she viewed her world really had changed in the last two weeks.
She touched Penny’s shoulder. “What’s going on?” The orchestra continued playing, but more people had abandoned their conversations and were gathering around.
“Katrina!” Crystal squealed as she rushed forward and curled her fingers around Kat’s forearm. “There must be a mistake with the invitation list. Apparently, you’ll let anyone in these days.”
Behind Crystal, Dayne’s jaw went harder than diamonds. His eyes flared with barely controlled fury and a muscle ticked in his cheek. The grip on his scotch glass was so tight, the tips of his fingers whitened, and she half expected the glass to shatter. He’d thrust his other hand into his pants pocket. From the visible bulge, it was clenched into a fist. There was only word to describe his overall demeanor. Dangerous.
Everyone crowding around them alternately shifted their attention from Crystal to Dayne. To their credit, the orchestra didn’t miss a beat.
“This man”—Crystal jutted her chin in Dayne’s direction—“is nothing but a thief. Not even an expensive tuxedo can hide the dirty little street urchin you really are and always will be.”
“What’s going on here?” The mayor had come to stand beside Dayne, as had Senator Graham, Charlie Worthington, and Max Rocher.
A veritable show of support, although Kat still didn’t understand what was happening.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on. Our little Katrina is slumming it this evening.” Crystal’s words dripped with venom. “Still trying to be something you’re not, I see.” The last barb was aimed directly at Dayne, who stood frozen like a statue.