“We can just stand up,” Holly offered.
“I have an idea. Follow me.”
Back out in the great hall, Chance walked toward the back of the house. Before they got to the kitchen, he turned into a small alcove on their left. Probably intended as a smaller, more intimate dining room, there was no table or chairs, just one lone sofa and a small flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. The far end of the room was glass panels, giving a view of a large fountain in a garden outside.
Holly walked to the couch and was unable to hold back a sigh of relief when she sank down into the plush leather. By the time Chance joined her, she’d already kicked off the four-inch heels. They ate in unison, enjoying the quiet.
“So do you know all those people?”
“Nope.”
“Who was that brunette who was so determined to get close to you? She actually tried to step on my foot in an attempt to make me back away.”
“You’re kidding.” Chance looked from his plate to Holly. There was a frown of concern on his handsome face.
“No. Not kidding.” She took a bite of a strawberry. “But no worries. Every time she tried it, I just poked her in the ribs. Oh, these strawberries are so good.”
Chance laughed out loud. “You’re priceless.”
“I’m ornery.”
“That, too.”
She adjusted her body into a more comfortable position. Doing so caused her plate to tilt. Before she could catch it, a cherry slid off, rolled over Chance’s leg and onto the leather of the couch, stopping at his crotch. She looked at him with dismay. He bit down hard, his eyes dancing. Which told her he was going to have fun with this one.
“You uh...lost your cherry, Ms. Anderson,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.
“So it would seem,” she replied, stiffening her spine, unable to keep from staring at the small red piece of fruit. “Would you be a gentleman and hand it to me?”
“Nope. You’ll have to get it yourself.”
Holly looked around, making sure no one else was within hearing distance. “Chance Masters,” she said through gritted teeth. “Do not do this. This isn’t the place or the time. Give me my cherry.”
“You want the cherry? Reach down and get it.”
The bad-boy light was dancing in his eyes. He was enjoying this way too much.
“Fine. I’ll just leave it there and you’ll have a stain on your pants.”
“Dry cleaners can get it out,” he said, sounding totally unconcerned.
Chance reached out to her plate and picked up one of the two remaining pieces of fruit. With his fingers he removed the stem and brought a green grape to her mouth. She opened to accept it, biting down, enjoying the sweet, juicy flavor. He watched as she chewed. Then he scooped up the last piece of fruit, a small strawberry. This time, he put it to his mouth, his teeth holding it in place.
His eyes glittered in challenge. He wanted her to take it. From his mouth. She could do it. Leaning toward him, Holly touched her lips to his as she bit down on the fruit. She felt his hand come around to the back of her head, holding her to him. With his tongue he made sure the fruit was well into her mouth. It turned into a deep, smoldering kiss until she neither knew nor cared where the strawberry went. Against her lips, Chance murmured, “Get the cherry, Holly. Do it. Do it now.”
Eight
“Just remember, Commander. Paybacks are hell,” she said against his mouth and felt him smile. As she reached out to retrieve the crimson fruit at his crotch, his lips again found hers. He pressed her hand against his swollen erection. The fruit was forgotten. His hard body pushed up against her hand, his own hand pressing hers down on his thickness.
Someone cleared their throat. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Chance. All movement came to a screeching halt. Reality flooded into the little room. Chance drew back and she looked up to find Wade standing in the opening next to a chef, who for all intents and purposes appeared as though he wished he was anywhere else. So did Holly. The heat of a deep red blush crept up her face.
“We couldn’t find you two.” Wade was trying so hard not to grin it would, without doubt, do damage to his facial muscles. “Chef Andre has something for you.”
Holly looked at the silver tray in the chef’s hand. He lowered it and removed the silver dome cover. It held a hot dog in a bun with an assortment of relishes and condiments on the side.
“As requested, madam. Grilled over an open fire. For you.”
He held the tray toward them. Thankfully Chance reached out and took it. Her hands were shaking so badly she would have probably dumped the whole plate in his lap. A new rush of heat ran up her neck and face as an image flashed in her mind of how Chance would ask her to clean that up. This had to stop.
“Thank you.”
“You are quite welcome. I hope you enjoy,” Chef said before turning away.
“Something is begging me to ask what you both were up to when I walked in here,” Wade said. “But, nah. I don’t think I really need to ask, do I? And if I did, you probably wouldn’t tell me, would you?”
“Honestly, Wade. It’s all just a big misunderstanding.” Holly would not leave him thinking she’d come to his elaborate party just to make out with his brother. Even though she had been doing just that. There was a distinct difference between making out and making out. “What you saw was not really representative of what we were doing.”
Chance snorted and she sent a glare in his direction.
“Oh?” Wade’s dark eyes glimmered with barely contained amusement.
She shook her head. “I was simply helping Chance find my cherry.”
No one moved.
It took about five seconds to realize what she’d said.
Her admission didn’t faze Chance as he dangled the small red fruit from its stem.
“And I got it,” he said, before popping it in his mouth, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
The hot dog was delicious, and in spite of having already eaten all that fruit, she downed every bite. Chance disappeared for a couple of minutes and was soon back with a lemonade and a cold beer.
“Wade is offering his guests beer? That seems a little odd.”
“He keeps them in the fridge. I never really formed a liking for champagne.”
Holly took a sip of her lemonade. Neither had she, but probably not for the same reasons. People on her side of the road generally didn’t attune their taste buds to the full-flavored bouquet of the world’s finest champagne.
“What now?” she asked, setting her empty plate aside.
“Put your shoes on and I’ll show you.”
Stifling a groan, she stood up and slipped her feet into the shoes. Chance took her hand and led her to a large room adjacent to the atrium. Above them there was a dome ceiling decorated with twinkle lights. At the back of the room a six-piece orchestra was tuning up. As the music filled the space, Chance took Holly into his arms.
“This is so nice,” she said, smiling up at him. “I didn’t know you danced.”
“You’re about to find out I don’t. Watch your toes.”
He danced beautifully. It felt so good to be held in his strong arms, pulled tight against his powerful body as they swayed to the strings of the slow, soul-touching melody.
As they danced it felt as though the temperature in the room got warmer. The songs being played now were slower, the melodies strumming the strings of her heart. Holly felt as though she’d stepped up to an entirely new level, feeling a closeness to Chance she’d never felt before. There were plenty of women at the edge of the dance floor who were ready to pounce and take her place at the first opportunity, but selfishly she held on tight. And it seemed Chance was equally unwilling to release Holly.
“When you’re ready to call it a night and head upstairs, just let me know. We’ve been here over four hours. I’m more than ready to get the hell out of here.”
Holly stepped back. “Let’s go.”
He took her hand and led her through the throngs of people still making the most of the party. Just outside the double doors that opened into the great hall, they found Cole.
Chance leaned forward and quietly spoke a few words to his brother, who nodded and gave Chance a couple of pats on the back. Cole looked at Holly and winked.
Then Chance guided her farther down the hall to a small elevator. A couple of seconds later they stepped out onto a higher floor. It was peacefully quiet and every bit as elegant as the first floor had been. These people knew how to live. Antique mirrors randomly adorned the walls along the hallway. In between were very old, beautifully framed pictures, presumably of Chance’s ancestors. Men standing with a crowd of smiling people in front of the entrance to a mine, next to an oil rig or next to a gorgeous thoroughbred held by a groomsman with a jockey on its back and a blanket of roses over its neck.
“That’s my uncle on the day he won the Triple Crown.”
“He’s magnificent.”
“I assume you mean the horse?”
“There’s a horse?”
Chance laughed and it was a nice sound to hear.
“I think you’ll be comfortable in here.” He pushed open the door to an amazing bedroom suite. It was decorated in varying shades of blue in a French motif with a fireplace on one wall. A large canopy bed dominated the room. “I’ll be just next door.”