I turned slowly, trying to seem as gracious as possible.
“Thank you so much for —”
Lyle held up both his hands.
“Don't say anything,” he said in a low rumble, his teeth gleaming in the flickering lamplight. “Just wait a few seconds for Owen to get here. I want him to see what I am seeing.”
I raised my eyebrows and perched my hand on my hip, shifting my weight to one side and rolling my shoulders back like I was Scarlett Johansson or something.
“And what is it you are seeing?” I countered.
His nostrils flared as though he was inhaling me.
“Oh, I think you know.”
It was like a bit of a staring contest, trying to stand there as Lyle unabashedly inspected me from my jaw to my ankles, his eyes scooping out the hollow between my breasts in an almost tactile way. I had never just stood and let someone look me over like that before. My heart beat a little faster at the challenge.
Well, I guess that's just how sexpots do it.
“Your champagne, miss,” the bartender said in a politely distant tone of voice as he slid the flute to me across the bar and immediately scurried away. Was Lyle that intimidating? Yes. Yes he was. Standing there in a custom tuxedo and tie, his hair swept off his forehead and gleaming in dark golden waves, he was a matinee idol. He was Justin Timberlake and Jason Statham. And Chris Hemsworth. Oh my.
I accepted the flute gratefully, happy for a distraction and something else to do with my hands besides fan the creeping heat that was advancing across my collarbones. It was nice to have a prop, though I was mindful that too much champagne was going to probably make me a little loose in the pelvic area, if history was any kind of indication.
Boy, do I wish Melita was here. She would keep me on track.
Who am I kidding? She would have me unzipped and greased up already.
As the seconds ticked by, Lyle's expression seemed to shift subtly from a pompous dare to a friendly grin, almost as though I had won some kind of bet with him or passed some kind of trial.
A few more long seconds, and I felt myself beginning to falter. How long was I going to be able to stand up to this staring contest? Then he wiggled his eyebrows at me once in a fast, knowing look.
“You’re here,” Owen said, rolling into our shared personal space like a wave.
Lyle slid slightly aside to make room for his brother.
“Yes, and look, she's wearing blue.”
Owen nodded seriously. His lips pursed into an intense bud as though tasting something on his tongue.
“Extraordinary.”
I clenched my jaw and sighed through my nose to indicate I was losing patience with this exchange even though, truthfully, I had rarely felt anything so exhilarating. I could never have been that brash, even with someone I knew intimately well. And here they were, sizing me up without even trying to conceal it? I felt exposed and excited at the same time.
"So, gentlemen, are we going to get down to business?"
"So soon?" Lyle growled.
Owen scowled at him and nudged him with his elbow.
"Let's give her a moment to adjust to us," he said gamely. "I have to apologize. We do tend to come on a little strong."
"I think she can take it," Lyle said with a smirk.
I looked back and forth between them, thrusting my weight onto one hip and rolling my shoulders back just like Melita would have done.
"I came here to be serious," I said.
"I am nothing but serious," Lyle said.
Owen held out his hands in front of him to interrupt. "Okay, okay. I think what my brother means to say is that you look... stunning.”
“Beyond gorgeous,” Lyle interjected, nodding.
“Frankly, it's hard to concentrate on anything else."
I checked their expressions for signs that they were teasing me or exaggerating and found none. What I found instead was, well, maybe worse in some ways. They looked like they absolutely meant every word.
"Well — I mean, thank you," I stammered, my facade quickly folding up and flying away like an origami crane. I gulped at the champagne to conceal my flustered expression. "Why don't you show me around and we can get to talking about those, uh, lines of business?"
"You see?" Owen asked Lyle, still bathing me in the light of his knowing smile. "Nothing is going to stand in this woman's way. Not even us."
"All right then," Lyle conceded, holding out his elbow in a thoroughly chivalrous and old-fashioned way that made my heart flutter. "Shall we?"
I nodded, suddenly mute and tremendously grateful to be able to move from the spot. With my fingers curled around the inside of Lyle's elbow and Owen just behind my other shoulder, we began to circle the room.
Everywhere we went, all eyes seemed to turn toward us and conversations paused in mid-chatter. More than a few of the women glanced at me with the wide open eyes of utter astonishment. Their envy was palpable, and I began to absolutely love it.