Easy Come(Plaything #1)(14)

He looked pointedly at the strawberries. "Have you tried one of those?”

"No, but I was considering sneaking off with a few in a napkin. I'm not normally a fruit thief, but when something is robed in chocolate, it's much harder to resist."

He laughed and picked up a berry. "Robed in chocolate. I like that." He bit off the end with the chocolate. "Very good. You should try one."

"Probably a good idea." I ate the strawberry, well aware that he watched me closely as I ate it. "I was right. Hard to resist."

"You certainly are." There was something familiar about his tone, but I couldn't put a finger on it. All I knew was that it had momentarily taken my breath away. "Would you like to dance?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about leaving."

"But it's early. One dance."

"I suppose I can stick around for one dance."

With the manners of a man from an earlier century, where chivalry was all the rage, he gave me his arm. I took hold of it, and he led me to the dance floor.

Now that I was moving through the crowd, my odds of running into Trey had greatly increased. I wasn't sure what I'd say or do if I ran into him. On the flip side, something that made me more nervous was his reaction to seeing me. He had been the one to give me the invitation, but after the disastrous ending to the boat trip, he no doubt never expected me to show up to the party. Oh, why hadn't I just stayed on the couch with Doris and Rock?

We neared the dance floor. A hiccough chirped from my mouth before I could cover it.

My dance partner laughed. "I used to get hiccoughs all the time when I was a kid. My older brother would get so annoyed. He used to make me lift my arms up above my head to cure them. By the way my name is Quinn, Quinn Armstrong."





Chapter Nineteen





Trey





Katrina placed her hands on her hips as she stared down at me from under some extremely long fake lashes. We had dated off and on a year ago, but, other than great sex, nothing ever came of it. "Trey Armstrong, I have not seen you dance once tonight."

I got up from the table, picked up my drink and swirled it around. "Not in the dancing mood." The truth was, I wasn't in any kind of mood to be socializing. I hadn't recuperated from the shitty ending to my excursion with Georgie, where I'd acted like a fucking cocksure idiot. Chuck and Jordan were basically drooling over the side of their boat when they saw Georgie in her bikini. An unexpected surge of jealousy caused me to snap at her. I wanted to shield her from their eyes.

"Your brother sure is in the dancing mood," Katrina said. "He's been out there for twenty minutes tearing it up with a cute little blonde in a black dress. I'm sure it's straight off the rack, but somehow she manages to make it look like it came from a designer's collection. Who is she?"

"No idea, Kat. I don't keep track of Quinn's social calendar."

Aidan and Chase joined us. Chase had a model on each arm. Aidan gulped his beer. "Who are we talking about?"

I wasn't in the mood for small talk, especially small talk about my brother's dance partners, so I didn't bother to respond. But Katrina felt the need to fill them in.

"I was just mentioning to Mr. Party Pooper here that his brother has been dancing with a cute blonde."

Chase smiled at the models to let them know he needed his arms back. They reluctantly released him. "Yeah, I was surprised to see her." He looked at me. "I'm guessing you invited her?”

"Invited who?"

Katrina huffed with frustration. "The woman dancing with Quinn. Boy, you really are out of it tonight. Maybe you should have stayed at home, drinking a warm glass of milk in bed."

"Think you're right about that, Kat."

"Well," Chase continued, "did you invite her?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Chase?"

"The reporter," Aidan snapped, having lost patience with the confusing conversation. "Quinn is dancing with the reporter from Contemporary Life magazine."

I stood stock-still and stared at Aidan, wondering if he was joking. He nodded, letting me know he wasn't.

I smacked the glass down on the table behind me and plowed through the crowd. By the time I reached the dance floor, Quinn was reluctantly handing Georgie off to a guy name Lowell, an ignorant asshole who worked for our accountant and who fancied himself to be a real ladies' man. Only the ladies didn't concur with him on that assessment.

It was a semi-slow dance, and Lowell was taking full advantage by wrapping his arms around Georgie's back and hauling her closer than necessary. The tight line of her forced smile assured me she was not enjoying the dance. Which was all right because Lowell was going to need to find a new partner.

Quinn stopped me on my determined path through the maze of dancers. "Hey, are you coming out here to dance alone? Lowell just stole my sweet little partner, but I plan to get her back on the next song."

"Think again, little brother." I continued on my war path, leaving Quinn no chance to respond. Lowell had a stupid grin plastered on his face as he glanced over Georgie's shoulder at me. The grin faded fast when he realized I was marching toward him. His face blanched, and his arm fell away from Georgie's back.

She turned around to see what had startled her dance partner.

"Trey," she said through parted lips that were glazed in hot pink lipstick and just begging to be kissed.

"Hey, Armstrong," Lowell said, with regained confidence. "You'll have to wait for the next dance. We just got started."

"Sorry, Lowell, your dance is over." Just like with Quinn, I didn't wait for a response. I was in no mood for responses or conversations or small talk tonight. I grabbed Georgie's hand. She put up a good show of a shocked gasp but followed right along behind me.

I led her off the dance floor and past a lot of curious, surprised stares as I walked her out to the hotel lobby.

"That was rather rude," Georgie quipped as she toddled along behind me. I held firmly to her hand and didn't slow down, even as she struggled to keep up with my long, determined stride. "I guess rudeness is one of your character flaws," she continued. "I sure saw it on full display yesterday."

The lobby was crowded. I still hadn't said a word to her or even looked at her, but she continued talking, apparently deciding this was the time to get everything off her chest.

"And another thing, how dare you tell me to use my superpower and then the second I walk out in a bikini to use that superpower—"

I pulled her through the crowded lobby toward the elevators. Some of our guests had spilled out of the ballroom to get fresh air or have a few minutes without the noise. They too watched with dropped chins as I led Georgie across the tile floor. But I didn't give a damn. There was only one person I was interested in seeing right now and that was the woman chattering away behind me.

"And my boobs aren't my superpower—my brain is my superpower. Everything else is just extra, like condiments. Like ketchup on fries . . .”

I slapped the elevator button and the doors opened. I pulled her inside the empty elevator and hit the button to close the doors. Then I turned to face her.

She wasn't wearing her glasses, and her blue eyes sparkled as she blinked at me. "Or nacho cheese sauce, if you prefer extra fattening fries," she said a little less firmly than the first part of her scolding.

"Damnit, Georgie, what the hell have you done to me?" I yanked her into my arms and my mouth slammed down over hers.





Chapter Twenty





Georgie





Things sort of went blurry after Trey's kiss. Most likely because I'd been waiting for that damn kiss for so long, my head grew dizzy from all the release of tension. We'd hardly spoken more than ten words as we rode up to the top floor and race-walked along the richly decorated corridor to Trey's room.

He slid his room card through the slot. The door opened into a massive suite with a view similar to the view he had at home. City lights decorated the skyline and made the polished marble and wood in the room sparkle. A round couch sat in the center of the living room, in front of a kitchen that was at least three times the size of my apartment.

"Nice place," I quipped.

Trey's hazel eyes had been dark and lustful for the entire ride up to the top floor. Now they looked positively predatory. And it thrilled the hell out of me. His dark lashes dropped as he surveyed my outfit.

"Nice dress." He gripped the pleated skirt. "Let's see how easily it comes off."

"Oh, I suppose we could do that." I lifted my arms without even a moment of resistance. My resolve to tell him off had begun to crumble the second I saw him on the dance floor, looking like a man possessed, with his breathtaking physique wrapped in a perfectly cut suit and his clean shaven jaw set with steely determination. I'd worked up courage enough to give him a piece of my mind as he dragged me through the ballroom and hotel lobby, but the second the doors on the elevator shut and the kiss seemed inevitable, I knew my original plan to tell him off had been obliterated.

He swept my dress up and off with hardly stirring a strand of my hair. I was thankful that I'd pulled on my nicest black lace bra and panties to go with the dress.

I stared at the dress he tossed on the back of the couch. "You, sir, have done that before. You are quite skilled."

"It's one of my superpowers." He yanked off his coat and dropped it on the ground. I'd forgotten how hot he looked in a dress shirt. His arm circled around my back and he pulled me into his arms. "Should I show you some others?"