“Do you have a date set?” This came from a woman in the crowd.
“We’re still looking at venues,” Lily responded.
“And what does this mean for your dating life?” one of the men asked.
“This means he’s through with dating,” Lily said sharply. Usually she was very cool in these situations, but she greatly resented the excessive interest in the lives of public figures anyway, and being at the center of it only added to the resentment.
“She’s right about that,” Gage said, drawing his thumb over the back of her hand, sending little ripples of sensation through her. “I never thought I would get married. But when I met Lily … Well, she’s all that I want.” He looked up, his blue eyes intent on hers. Her breath caught. He looked like he meant every word he’d just spoken, his expression sincere, his eyes trained only on her. No mystery why he scored so many beautiful women with such ease. He could do romance without breaking a sweat, and he could sound completely honest while speaking words that were nothing more than beautiful lies.
And the worst thing was that, even knowing that, even having a complete and total man embargo, it affected her. Her heart was thundering, her stomach tight, her breasts heavy.
And when his eyes dropped and his focus moved to her lips, she was silently hoping he would lean in and close the distance between them.
She shook her head sharply and tried to force the image out of her mind. She didn’t want to kiss him. He was charming her. Like he’d done to thousands of other women multiple thousands of times. But she wasn’t like those other women. She had standards. She knew what happened when you let a man in like that, when you gave someone else so much power in your life. She would never make that mistake. Her life was just as she liked it. Well-ordered and entirely in her control.
The rest of the questions went by in a blur and she stood there, smiling, her face placid, her manner serene. She was a professional at projecting calm when her thoughts were churning beneath the surface.
Everything in her was concentrating on ignoring the place where Gage was touching her, on where he was moving his thumb over the sensitive skin on her hand. On the heat that coursed through her from such a simple, nonsexual touch.
“Thank you, we won’t be taking any more questions. We both have some work to get back to, and I’d hate to have to fire my fiancée.” The crowd laughed softly at his joke. Lily tightened her lips to try and avoid grimacing.
He led her off of the stage and the minute they were safely ensconced in his limousine she jerked her hand away from him, rubbing at the spot he’d been brushing with his thumb.
“Try not to act like my touch offends you next time,” he said.
She tilted her head up to face him and immediately wished she hadn’t. The impact of him, his blue eyes narrowed, his expression hard, was more than she’d anticipated. After working with Gage for four months she should be used to him by now, but, while he was always in charge, no doubt about it, he didn’t usually give off that level of intensity. He was completely serious about his work, but beneath it all was a definite security. He wasn’t the kind of man who had to posture and get worked up over every minor detail in order to project his power. Never had she felt a hint of the intensity that she knew was just beneath the surface right now.
She knew he loved his sister, knew he was protective of her, but she hadn’t realized just how much.
“I didn’t act like your touch offended me,” she said, looking out the window at the harbor, watching the white boats blur together. “I was perfectly composed.”
“And stiff.”
This was not a new refrain. She couldn’t even recall the number of times she’d been called frigid, on those ill-fated, unwanted dates that had been concocted by her well-meaning friends.
Stiff was actually a little bit nicer, but she imagined the sentiment was much the same.
“Sorry, I’ll work on my fawning.”
“Do that,” he said, his voice icy.
“No one else could tell. And if they could they would attribute it to nerves from being in front of a crowd.”
“You make statements to the press on an almost daily basis.”
“True,” she admitted, “but not personal statements. Maybe I’m private.”
“You are very tight-lipped about your personal life.”
Personal life? That would be a fun conversation. The gym four nights a week. A health-conscious meal for one, and then whatever show she felt like watching on TV since there was never anyone there to complain. If she didn’t have issues with pet hair she would probably have a cat, which would at least give her companionship, but would give him unfair ammo against her.