“Brandon?” I asked, and intentionally stumbled a bit in my heels. “Is that you?”
He smiled and gripped my arm before I faux fell. “Do we know each other?”
“Oh, I thought you were Brandon Leatherwood. I’m sorry. Too many drinks, I guess.” I held up my now-empty glass, most of the contents watering one of the interior plants next to the column I’d hidden behind.
“No, that’s me. I’m just not sure who you are.” He reached around me, his fingers grazing the bare skin at my back as he pulled me into his side. “Though I’d really like to know.” He smiled and glanced to his companions.
They laughed and split off to talk amongst themselves.
“You are?” He peered at my eyes behind the mask.
“Gloria Templeton.” I stole a name from my debutante days. I could only hope Brandon didn’t keep up with her.
“Right, Gloria.” He nodded. “We danced once, didn’t we? Did we kiss?” He ran his hand under my dress, gripping my waist.
I smiled and leaned into him. “Maybe. I don’t remember. It’s been a while.”
“You’ve certainly aged well.” He rubbed his fingers along my skin, inching them lower.
I fought the urge to back away. Maybe my plan was working too well.
“Want to dance?” I asked.
“Sure.” He leaned down into my ear. “But I want more after that.”
I giggled and fought the urge to roll my eyes. He pulled me onto the dance floor as the music slowed to a slow song I knew—“Fade into You” by Mazzy Star.
“This is an oldie.” He pulled me to him, one of his hands at my back, the other casually holding mine.
I needed to get him talking. “So, what have you been up to since the debutante days?”
“Just work. Nothing important or even worth talking about.” He pressed me into him, forcing me to appreciate his toned body. He worked out. A lot.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” I affected my best pout.
He pulled back and stared into my eyes. “Why’s that?”
“Work talk from powerful men always turns me on.” Please be dumb enough to fall for this.
“Powerful men, huh.” He slid his hand down to my ass and squeezed. “You came to the right place.”
“So anything interesting in your world?”
“Hmm.” He spoke in my ear as we swayed to the music. “Some big deals on defense contracts. Millions of government dollars. Does that do anything for you?”
“A lot, actually,” I breathed. Defense contracts made possible by Rhone secrets?
He slid his hand even farther down my ass, rubbing the silky fabric of my dress. “No panties, Gloria?”
“I hate panty lines.” I fake-giggled again.
“I do, too.” His lips grazed my ear. “You smell amazing.”
“Mind if I cut in?” Kennedy snatched my hand from Brandon and pulled me to him.
“I do, actually.” Brandon bristled and took a step toward us.
“I do, too.” I tried to push Kennedy away but he locked his forearm at my back.
“Gloria.” Brandon held his hand out to me. “Come.”
I opened my mouth, though I was unsure which one of them I wanted to excoriate—Kennedy for screwing up my plan or Brandon for treating me like a pet.
“Gloria.” Kennedy snorted. “I told you it was a bad idea to see strange men when you’re having a flare-up.” He shook his head.
My cheeks heated and I dug my nails into Kennedy’s ribs through his jacket. He grunted but didn’t release me.
“Flare-up?” Brandon took a step back. “You know what? Never mind. There’s plenty of pussy here. I don’t need this shit.”
He disappeared into the crowd.
“What the fuck are you doing? I was getting information.” I kept trying to harm him through his clothes, but it wasn’t working.
He pulled me farther into the middle of the room, surrounded by other couples dancing to the smooth, low voice of the angsty song.
“I already got what we needed.” He ran his hand down my back, his touch sending tingles through my body.
“Oh, really?” I sneered. “I already got it, too.”
“What have you got?” He splayed his fingers on my back and swayed me back and forth.
“You first.” I stopped fighting him and put one hand at the back of his neck. If he really did have the information, then I was verging on grateful that I didn’t have to deal with Brandon’s roving hands any longer.
“You look amazing.” His lips curled into a smile beneath the silver mask.
“Thank you.” My response was automatic anytime I received a compliment, even if it came from a cad like Kennedy.