Noah’s fingers slid across her sensitive skin again, and at last he seemed to notice what he was doing. His eyes locked with hers, her breath held in her lungs, the moment full of so many words unspoken that it was a crushing pressure in the air. “Fox and you,” she prompted softly, because those words had to remain unspoken.
For her own sanity. For the friendship Noah needed.
Jaw a harsh line, he said, “I’d never shared with anyone, and Fox grew up with his grandparents, without any brothers and sisters, so we walk in and sit on our beds, staring at each other.” Noah could remember the knot in his stomach, the sour taste in his mouth, the cold fingers crawling down his back.
The idea of having to sleep in a room with a stranger, even if that stranger was a boy as small as him, a boy with green eyes and dark brown hair, had almost been enough to thrust Noah into panicked shock. “Then,” he continued, “Fox says, ‘Did you see we have a pet spider?’”
Kit’s shudder was so girlish he smiled. “A pet spider?”
“It was this huge black thing with skinny legs in one corner of the room. We spent an hour watching it spin its web, and we were cool after that.” It had been that simple, and yet not. Because that night Noah had a nightmare that left him huddled in another corner, shivering so hard his teeth had clattered against each other; Fox had come over and sat with him, bringing a blanket to cover them both.
That was the moment that had bonded them forever.
It wasn’t until he was much older that Noah understood Fox’s courage in making the first move by speaking about the spider. Unlike Noah, Fox didn’t come from wealth. He’d been dumped at the school because no one wanted him, the school’s wealthy environs unfamiliar and scary.
“Boys.” Kit shook her head on the affectionate word. “Did your pet spider survive?”
“We kept it safe for a while, but the cleaners came in one day while we were out, and we never saw Mr. Legs again.” His muscles began to coil as they turned into the drive that led to the magnificent Beverly Hills mansion that was the site of tonight’s gala.
The Tierney estate belonged to a renowned and somewhat eccentric art collector who also happened to be a close friend of his aunt’s. “Ready for the circus?” he said to Kit. “I heard Tierney has his own personal mummy.”
She reached up to fix his hair, the small intimacy doing things to him he couldn’t name. “We can sneak away and go hunt for it if the gala gets too boring.”
“Deal.”
The limo came to a halt at the bottom of the red carpet, which fell in a cascade down the mansion’s museum-worthy front steps and continued on down the drive until it hit the drop-off point at the top of the circular turnaround for vehicles. Beyond was a much longer drive down which they’d just driven, and on either side of the red carpet—corralled behind thick velvet ropes—buzzed a phalanx of black-tie-clad photographers and reporters who’d been given a media pass to the event.
Noah opened his own door rather than waiting for the limo driver and stepped out while doing up the tux jacket, then held out his hand for Kit. She slipped her warm, slender hand into his, and his skin tightened, his body attuned to her on a level that was primal and hotly possessive.
And then she was standing with him, a stunning woman with a heart big enough to forgive him for the worst mistake of his life, to trust him once again with the gift of her friendship. He wouldn’t fuck it up this time.
No matter how loud the demons howled.
The cameras had started flashing the instant he exited the limo, but they went insane as he and Kit moved down the red carpet. He kept his hand on Kit’s back throughout, loathe to have the other men here believe she was on her own. Because she wasn’t. For this one night, she was his.
“Kathleen! Kathleen! Who’s your date?” a photographer called out. “What’s his name?”
Laughing, Kit turned her face up toward him, then they turned as a couple to the media. The flashbulbs were blinding, questions and exclamations rising in a roar as the photographers and reporters clicked on the identity of her date.
“Jesus,” Noah muttered without making a face because he didn’t want to ruin the photos, conscious this was an important opportunity for Kit. “It’s a penguin suit, people.”
“I hope your passport’s up-to-date,” Kit said on a dazzling smile. “Japan’s calling.”
“You haven’t won yet.” Coiled muscles eased, his cheeks creasing in a real smile. “I’m not getting any excited calls from Thea.”
“Pfft, the night is young, and you’re looking so pretty.” She moved with him to one of the official gala photographers on their side of the velvet rope, posing gracefully beside him. Then, bowing to requests, she stepped away to give the other photographers the solo shots they wanted of her and her gown.