Good with His Hands(26)

"Friend?" The woman on his arm sneered. "She is a drunken lunatic!"

The alleged lunatic balled her hands into fists at her sides. "Why you-"

"Excuse me, miss." Bryce interjected himself between the two females.  Other than create a physical barrier, he wasn't sure what to do. The  sudden change from one song to another inspired him. "Would you like to  dance?"

Waving away the couple with a hand behind his back, he focused on  distracting the woman with the wide brown eyes and red-gold hair. Now  that he got a better look at her, he noticed that she had a creamy,  porcelain complexion and the face of an angel. Ironic, given what he'd  witnessed of her temperament.

She met his gaze, seeming bewildered. "Whoa. I'm seeing double."

"Have you had a lot to drink?" Maybe he needed to get her to a chair.

She paused as if taking a mental tally, then shrugged. "Irrelevant."

"Not if you're having double vision," he said gently.

"I see two of you because there are two of you." She gripped his shoulders and turned him toward the dance floor, pointing.

Following the direction she indicated, he spotted Sean in the crowd. "Oh. Right. We're twins."

She gave him a look of exaggerated patience. "Duh. You're the Bryce one, right?"

This was the strangest conversation he'd had all night, but at least it  wasn't boring. "Yeah. I'm the Bryce one. And who might you be?"

"Meg."

"Could I interest you in a cup of coffee?" he offered. "Maybe some  dessert to go with it?" He figured adding chocolate as an enticement  sounded kinder than admitting he was trying to sober her up.

"Dessert." She sighed wistfully. Suddenly, she reached for him, moving  much faster than he'd expected for a woman who was swaying slightly, and  pressed his hand to her lace-covered hip. "What do you think? Too  plump?"

"I... What?"

"I need a man's opinion." For a moment, the expression in her doe eyes got less vague. "You are a man."

He didn't know if it was the undercurrent of appreciation in her voice  or the soft, full curve of her beneath his fingers that sent a rush of  heat through him. He did, however, know that it was inappropriate to be  groping a stranger.

"Do my hips inherently fill men's heads with thoughts of babies?" she demanded.

Thoughts of how babies were made, perhaps.

"Um...no?" He tugged his hand away, trying to regain his composure.  He'd done his job of averting a scene. He was free to go now. But he was  troubled by the trace of sadness in her gaze. He realized he wanted,  quite badly, to see her smile. "Nice dress." It was unlike anyone  else's.                       
       
           



       

"You should see my underwear," she said absently. The bizarre statement was matter-of-fact, no whisper of come-on in her voice.

He had no idea how he was supposed to respond, which was just as well, since he couldn't find his voice anyway.

Standing on her tiptoes, she peered around him, tottering on her high  heels. Bryce's hands came up automatically to steady her. Maybe he  should stay close to her. In case she needed help.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"Tate got away before I got a chance to tell him he's an excrement head."

His lips twitched. "Interesting way of putting it."

"I don't swear. It's a rule." She lifted her chin. Her imperious  expression was surprisingly effective, given that she didn't even reach  his shoulder and she was wobbling. "People need to respect the rules."

He nodded. "I myself am a firm believer in them."

That earned him the smile he'd wanted. Her lips curved in an approving  grin, making her eyes twinkle. The way she looked at him, he suddenly  felt a foot taller.

"Rule follower, huh? I..." She blinked as if she'd forgotten what she  was going to say. Then she yawned, and it occurred to him that someone  should probably take her home.

"Did you come here with someone tonight?" he asked. Even as he voiced  the question, he sincerely hoped the answer was no. In fact, he so badly  wanted her to be here without a date that it startled him. Since when  was he attracted to unpredictable strawberry blondes who made muttered  comments about underwear?

"Came with my friend," she said sleepily. Once again, she gestured toward the dance floor. "Danica."

Crap. "Danica Yates?" He frowned, wondering how much it would count  against him that Ms. Yates disliked him. Although, upon second glance,  he realized Danica was the woman dancing with Sean. Had the real-estate  agent reversed her ruling on Grayson men?

"Danica is my best friend," Meg said, her angelic face crinkling into a  fierce scowl. She pressed a palm to her forehead. "And you're just... I  shouldn't even be talking to you."

"Wait, I-"

"No, I think I need to get home," she said in a moment of clarity. She  headed toward the dance floor, presumably to let her ride know it was  time to leave. Then she paused, giving him one last sleepy smile over  her shoulder. "Goodbye, Hot Architect."

She knew he was an architect? He was surprised Danica had bothered  mentioning it. Then the rest of what she'd said clicked, prompting a  grin. She thinks I'm hot?

* * *

UNSURE WHAT TO say to Sean-and biting back the question Is that skinny  blonde I saw you with your date?-Dani had followed him silently to the  dance floor. The loud music provided a convenient excuse not to talk.  For the first few measures of the song, she simply gave into the impulse  to melt against him and enjoy the moment.

But he had questions of his own. "You were really going to marry that guy? He seems like a putz."

Too true. She sighed. "He wasn't always so self-important. I think  getting promoted and Ella falling for him went to his head." It was  probably for the best Sean had interrupted when he had, before Dani was  provoked into cutting Tate and his ego down to size. A petty part of her  had enjoyed Tate's expression-and how he'd had to crane his neck to  look up at Sean-when his "poor Dani" act had been interrupted. "I'm glad  you ran into me when you did."

"It wasn't coincidental. I asked Lydia Reynolds if she knew where you'd  gone, and she said you'd been cornered by your cretin ex."

"You knew I was here?" she asked softly. The few times she'd glanced his direction, he'd been busy with admirers.

He nodded. "I heard you laugh during the fashion show. You're a saint, by the way, not to have mentioned those damn fins yet."

"Now I'm worried I have an obnoxiously distinct laugh," she joked. "How  else could you have recognized it over the music and noise of the  crowd?"

His gaze held hers. "I think I could pick you out of a hundred voices or a thousand faces. Dani, I..."

Her breath caught in her lungs, and she swayed even closer to him.  Hunger lit his gaze, and an answering hunger surged to life inside her.  He stared at her mouth, and a tingly sensation spread from her lips, in  anticipation of his kiss, to other parts of her body, lower and stronger  until she found herself shifting restlessly, trying in vain to  alleviate the ache.

With a muffled groan, he cupped the back of her head. "If you can't  forgive what I did, tell me right now. I'll walk away, and that will be  the end of it. Otherwise-"                       
       
           



       

"I can," she blurted, her voice unrecognizably breathy as she tightened her grip on him. "I forgive you."

He brushed his tongue over the seam of her lips, then into her mouth  with a boldness that reminded her of the way he made love-confident and  skilled, so adept at knowing what she liked that she wanted it to go on  forever. Maybe it would have, if they hadn't backed into the couple next  to them. We can't do this here. They should go to her apartment and-

Oh, Lord, she'd completely forgotten about her temporary roommate.

Breaking off the kiss, she glanced around. "I am a terrible friend. I  have to find Meg. She had several of those Hang Tens on an empty  stomach. I mean, she's fine as long as she's not driving, but I should  probably discourage her from drinking any more of them."

"That's being a caring, concerned friend." He tapped her nose lightly.  "You're not terrible at all." From his elevated vantage point, he  scanned the room. "There she is."

He caught her hand in his, the simple act filling her with joy. On  their first date, they'd pretty much gone from verbal foreplay to  energetic sex. They'd skipped the smaller, yet surprisingly poignant,  milestones.

Meg was weaving her way toward them. "Dani? Not to interrupt, but I think I'm go to ready."