“Oh, no.” Victoria shook her head. “I’m not a good dancer.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m supposed to lead anyway.” If his feet took a beating, it would be worth the sacrifice to hold her in his arms.
Sighing, she placed her hand in Henry’s upturned palm. “Consider yourself warned.”
Henry chuckled, “Pain always leads to pleasure.”
Her hand in his, Henry escorted her to the dance floor. One arm strayed around her waist, caressing the flesh exposed at the small of her back. Gently, he drew her flush against his chest. He felt her tremble as his other hand closed simultaneously over her dainty fingers.
“Relax,” he whispered. “Let me guide you.” With expertise he glided with her across the dance floor, ignoring the tiny feet that crushed his toes.
She blushed, peering up at him through thick, dark eyelashes. “I did warn you.”
He pulled her tighter against his chest, pinning her head under his chin. “Believe me, when you look at me like that, your stepping on my toes is the last thing on my mind.”
Victoria
“You should’ve seen the stricken expression on the lady’s face when you crashed into her,” Henry teased.
Victoria reclined against the back of her chair, her arms wrapped around her stomach as she giggled profusely. “Poor thing was minding her own business, dancing with her husband until I came barreling in.”
Henry’s shoulders shook with laughter. “I suppose I may have gotten a little carried away.”
“You think?” Victoria asked sarcastically. “You twirled me around so much I thought I was a human dreidel.”
“Her husband didn’t appear to mind. I suspect he was quite disappointed when I declined his offer to switch partners,” Henry said.
Victoria leaned forward, her elbows on the table, and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “You should’ve accepted his offer. After all, why should you be the only man who leaves this shindig with a broken foot?”
With a look of smug satisfaction, Henry’s eyes crinkled up. “Never.” He reached across the table, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d risk a broken foot any day to have you by my side.” Henry’s fingers lingered over her cheek then crept to the nape of her neck.
Victoria closed her eyes. She relished the soothing sensation of his fingers as they kneaded the sore muscles of her neck. Enraptured by his touch, her head drooped forward. “That feels wonderful,” she breathed.
“Good,” he said huskily.
Suddenly, she came to her senses. This was way too comfortable. Way too intimate. “I have to go,” she said, jerking her neck up.
Henry’s palm fell from her neck, his fingers scorching her flesh as they crossed her shoulder. “So soon?” he asked.
“Yup. Early day tomorrow.”
He scrutinized her, his eyes dark and intense. “All right.”
“Thank you for becoming a sacrificial lamb. I’m glad that you’re still able to walk,” Victoria said with a halfhearted laugh.
“If you give me your ticket from the coat check, I’ll be happy to grab your coat for you.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I didn’t wear one.” At the last minute, she’d decided against wearing her coat to the gala. The dull, black wool had looked plain against her fancy dress.
His dark brows furrowed. “You didn’t wear a coat?”
She tensed, standing up. How dare Henry question her as if she were a child. Victoria quickly rose her body from the chair. “No, I didn’t,” she answered defiantly.
“You sound angry.” Still seated, Henry peered up at her. “What are you mad about?”
“You.”
“Me?” he asked.
“Yes, you,” Victoria mocked. “I heard the displeasure in your voice.”
He clasped her hand in his. “I’m worried about your health.”
She pulled her hand from his. “I don’t need a keeper.”
Henry’s nostrils flared. “Perhaps you do.”
Hands on her hips, Victoria tapped her fingertips against her waist and bent to hover over him. Now, face to face, she narrowed her eyes to glare at him. “And you think I’m stupid enough to believe that you want what’s best for me? That you’re concerned about my health?”
Henry’s jaw clenched. “Do you not comprehend how foolish you are being?”
“Get over yourself.” Victoria stormed away from him, hurrying through the crowded room.
Henry hurled from the chair, fighting the crowd to catch up with her. “Be reasonable,” he hissed, a fake smile pasted on his lips as he took her by the arm.
“I am reasonable. You’re an arrogant jerk.”
“Victoria, dear,” a shrill voice rang out, causing Victoria to cringe. What did Mrs. Burton want now? She’d already spoken with her earlier in the evening. Her tolerance for her pesky, old patron was rapidly declining. “I was just on my way out,” she said.
“So soon?” Mrs. Burton cocked an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile as she looked at Henry.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mrs. Burton. I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” Victoria said, brushing past her.
Henry shrugged his tuxedo jacket off and held it out to Victoria. “Put this on.”
“No thank you.”
“Put it on. You’re going to catch pneumonia,” he said sternly.
She halted, causing Henry to slam full force into her back, the impact pushing her slightly forward. Eyes narrowed, she turned to face him. “If your prediction that I catch pneumonia should come true and I drop dead, it would make your plan to seize my property as easy as taking candy from a baby.”
Rage blazed in his eyes. “Where’s your car?”
Victoria trembled, unnerved to find herself both frightened and aroused by the forcefulness in his voice. She’d never known a man to take such a keen interest in her personal comforts. Keep your cool, Victoria. Henrique Santana doesn’t care about you. All he cares about is your property.
“I’m going to ask you one more time. Where. Is. Your. Car?” Henry rasped through clenched teeth.
“Not far.”
Henry drew out a long breath. “Please put the jacket on.” Taking matters into his own hands, Henry adjusted it over her shoulders and tugged it tightly together before Victoria had a chance to protest.
Victoria’s lips curved up into a shaky smile as he sputtered under his breath, “I never thought I’d fight with a woman about putting clothes on.” As much as she wanted to hate Henrique Santana, she didn’t. “That’s kind of ironic, don’t you think?”
“I’m serious. You’re going to kill yourself traipsing around half naked,” Henry stated, placing his open palm on her lower back.
Desire raged throughout her shaky limbs. “What are you doing?”
“Walking you to your car,” he answered, ushering her through the foyer.
Chapter 11
Victoria
“There you are, Henrique.” Draped in a full-length fur coat, Helen Carrington stepped out from a darkened alcove.
“Helen,” Henry answered, his tone guarded.
“I thought you’d gotten lost, darling. It seems I was wrong,” she said, her keen eyes settling on Victoria.
“Hello, Ms. Carrington,” Victoria said, stunned to discover Henry and the wealthy tobacco heiress were on a first-name basis.
A cigarette clenched between her fingers, Helen stepped closer. She raised the cigarette to her lips, her cheeks hollowing as she took a long, slow drag. Lips parted, Helen leisurely exhaled, the clouds of fluffy white shrouding her as they whirled and billowed. “Rather chilly, isn’t it?”
Victoria flushed. It would be disastrous if the influential woman jumped to the wrong conclusion about her relationship with Henrique Santana. As an honorary member of the Newport Ladies’ Refurbishment Society, Helen Carrington’s support would almost guarantee the elimination of Santana Construction’s plan to rid Victoria of her land and her liveli
hood. “Your coat is lovely,” Victoria said, fidgeting with the lapels of Henry’s jacket. “It’s just what’s needed on a night like this. How silly of me not to wear one. Luckily, Mr. Santana was kind enough to offer me his jacket.”
The corners of Helen’s mouth turned into a wry smile. “Yes, he certainly is quite the gentleman.”
“I find it impossible to resist a damsel in distress,” Henry said.
“Are you having a nice time, Ms. Carrington?” Victoria asked, eager to change the subject. Anything, even the mating rituals of ants, would be a better topic than her involvement with Henry.
Helen gave Henry a sly glance. “I had planned to. Unfortunately, I was sadly mistaken.”
How could anyone not enjoy being surrounded by such splendor? It seemed impossible that anyone wouldn’t have fun tonight. “Did something bad happen?” Victoria questioned.
Helen released a throaty laugh. “Not nearly bad enough.”
Henry coughed. “Excuse me. It seems the cold is starting to affect my throat.”
Victoria glared at him then returned her focus to the other woman. “The Ladies’ Refurbishment Society has outdone themselves this year. The decorations were superb.”
“Ms. Hathaway, you must be frigid.” Henry grasped Victoria by the arm. “I’m sure you’re anxious to locate your vehicle,” he said, attempting to maneuver her from the portico.
Victoria gritted her teeth, ignoring the gentle pressure being applied to her arm. “We’re still talking,” she said under her breath.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Victoria. I’ll be sure to pass your compliment on to the board.” Helen snuffed her cigarette against the concrete. “Please do excuse me; as Henrique has pointed out, it’s positively freezing out here.”
“It’s been nice talking with you,” Victoria said.
“It’s been my pleasure.” Helen sauntered toward them, stopping to place one perfectly manicured hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I’m looking forward to discussing our future endeavor,” she said and then turned to walk away.
As soon as Helen was out of earshot, Victoria wrenched her arm free from Henry’s grasp. “What’s wrong with you?”
His eyes crinkled in the corners, looking highly amused by her anger. “Nothing is wrong with me.”
“You could have fooled me. You acted like a total jerk while I was trying to speak with Ms. Carrington.” She waved her arm in the air, her eyes rolling to the heavens as she shook her head. “I swear to God you’re about as mature as a five-year-old.”
“I simply thought that you’d be eager to locate your car. You should thank me. It is below freezing out here,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders as if that was any excuse for his abhorrent behavior.
“Thank you,” Victoria scoffed. “That is one sorry-ass excuse. You were way out of line, Mr. Santana. Your rudeness completely embarrassed me.”
The amusement faded from Henry’s expression, his voice growing somber. “That wasn’t my intention.”
A snort of disbelief spewed from Victoria’s lips. Shoving past him, she stomped down the portico’s steps and onto the gravel pathway. “Like hell it wasn’t. You’re bound and determined to destroy me.”
“I’m not out to destroy you,” Henry said, quickly matching his long-legged stride to hers. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Whatever.” One arm swinging by her side, she clutched the tuxedo jacket with her other hand, looking straight ahead.
Ouch!
Failing to notice the divot along the gravel path, her ankle turned, causing her knees to buckle. Unable to right herself, Victoria stumbled forward. Henry rushed toward her, his arms swooping around her waist to prevent her fall. He pulled her against him, his body enveloping hers. “Those shoes aren’t very practical,” he breathed against her ear, his stubble scraping the delicate flesh beneath her earlobe.
Heat and outrage ignited within her. Her body trembled with burning desire while her mind battled with outrage. “Of course, they aren’t practical. This is a gala, remember?”
Henry peered down at her. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be much of a man if I hadn’t noticed.”
Victoria craned her neck back and trembled as she met Henry’s lust-filled stare. Perfectly sculpted, like every other part of him, his lips curved into a devious smile. Get away now, she told herself. But he’s so solid, so firm, so strong and powerful.
“Those heels are quite remarkable. However, they pale in comparison to the beauty who wears them.”
And there it was—bullshit!
“You do have a way with words, Mr. Santana. Guaranteed to make all the girls swoon,” Victoria said, her momentary lapse in judgment quenched. She pushed against his chest, freeing herself from his embrace.
“I wouldn’t know. Girls are a waste of my time. I much prefer women,” he said.
“Older women?” Victoria blurted.
“Well, that all depends.” He smirked. “How old are you?
Victoria’s eyes narrowed on him, her fists clenching at her sides. “Really, Mr. Santana. I don’t have time for your games.” She spun around, her heels sinking between pieces of gravel as she hobbled down the pathway.
“Aww, come on, Ms. Hathaway,” Henry said, keeping step beside her. “It’s just friendly conversation between two young entrepreneurs.”
Silently seething, Victoria peered at him from the corner of her eye. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but if you must know, I’m thirty.”
“Then I absolutely have a thing for older women. Especially, blonde booksellers.”
“Harrumph.” Victoria limped beside him, the pain in her ankle increasing as she hastened her steps.
His lips quirked. “You move fast for an old lady.”
Ankle throbbing, she found it was too hard for her to maintain the quickened pace. “How old are you?” she huffed, slowing her gait.
“Twenty-eight,” he answered nonchalantly.
Victoria wobbled. He reached for her, locking an arm around her waist, and tugged her to his side. “Be careful now. I wouldn’t want you to break a bone.”
“You’re despicable. I’d be more concerned about Helen Carrington if I were you.”
Amusement laced his voice. “Why, Ms. Hathaway, I think you’re jealous.”
“Not on your life,” Victoria spat, unable to twist from his grasp.
Henry chuckled.
The audacity! It was asinine to believe she’d be able to have a civil conversation with the man. Victoria had more important things to do, like sleep, than spar with him. Suddenly an annoying sound assaulted her ears, interrupting her thoughts.
Whistling!
Henry strode beside her, an arm perched casually around her hip, appearing as if he didn’t have a care in the world—whistling.
Insufferable man! He was bound and determined to make her life difficult. If there was one thing that Victoria hated, one thing that grated on her nerves, it was whistling.
A multitude of stars shone brightly throughout the darkness, illuminating the now sparse parking area. Oh, thank God! She pointed to her Toyota. “There’s my car.”
“Judging by the hike from the mansion to your car, I’d say the gala raised quite a bit of money for the children’s hospital,” Henry said as they neared the desolate corner where her car was parked.
“It always does.” Victoria removed Henry’s jacket from around her shoulders, mourning its warmth. Goosebumps rose over her newly bare skin as she reluctantly held it out to him.
Without argument, Henry accepted the jacket from her outstretched hand, surprising her when he draped it back over her shoulders. “Keep it,” he said, drawing the lapels snuggly together across her chest. Victoria’s breath hitched, her nipples hardening into tight, pointy peaks as one of his fingertips skimmed the underside of her breast. “Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?” Henry asked, his voice low and deep.
Her pulse raced as adrenaline flooded throughout
her body. “Th-there’s nothing sexy about me.”
Dark and intense, his eyes raked over her body. “Oh, Ms. Hathaway, you lie.”
“Uh-uh,” Victoria professed softly. “I never lie.”
“Such a good girl.” He inched closer, his large frame invading the boundaries of her personal space, making her feel small and weak.
“Don’t mock me,” she whispered. “I’m not a paragon of virtue. I simply believe in the golden rule.”
“Ah, I see,” Henry said, brushing a stray stand of hair behind her ear. “You treat those as you wish to be treated?”
“Among other things,” she answered, her chin jutting forward.
“And how do you like to be treated, Ms. Hathaway?” Henry asked, snaking his hand behind her neck. Kneading Victoria’s tight shoulders, he lowered his head, his nose nuzzling lightly over her neck. “Slow and steady? Gentle and soft? Or fast and hard?”
Victoria arched her neck to the side while her open palms splayed flat against his chest, his heart pounding with virility beneath her fingers.
A low groan erupted from deep within her as Henry’s lips ventured down her neck, painting featherlight kisses on their journey along her collarbone.
He moaned deeply. “Feels good?” Henry asked, his mouth moving to her earlobe before drawing it between his teeth.
Victoria sucked in a breath, pain mixing with pleasure as he nipped and sucked playfully at her earlobe. “Mm hmm,” she murmured.
“I can’t wait to taste you,” he rasped before continuing his journey in search of her mouth. His palm covered the base of her neck, moving to cradle the back of her head. Applying slight pressure, he drew her mouth closer to his.
Instinctively, Victoria’s lips parted, the juncture between her thighs growing wet.
Flicking his tongue out, Henry toyed with her lower lip, sucking at it greedily.
Victoria’s hands moved up to his broad shoulders, her arms winding tightly around Henry’s neck. “What are you waiting for?” Victoria asked. “Taste me,” she demanded, the words rushing from her mouth as Henry’s arms tightened around her, crushing her breasts against his chest. His mouth slammed down on hers. Their tongues flicked in and then out, each of them desperate with desire.
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