Wife Wanted (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)(29)

 

Phoebe unlocked her phone and opened her e-mail. There was a new message from the dating website, but she’d worry about that later. There was also a missed call. She put it to her ear as it played, wondering why she hadn’t heard her phone go off. But when the voice started speaking, she had to hide her surprise by turning to look out the window.

 

“So, yes, I called you earlier than anticipated,” her pirate said, “but I couldn’t wait. I was hoping maybe Friday night, we could bump into each other again. Get that ice cream I tried to get you that first night? Just please, call me back. I would really like to see you again, Anna.” Then the message ended and she was left with the sudden urge to hit redial. She’d barely even met the man, yet there was something in his voice when he spoke to her, a glimmer in his eyes that she wanted to keep staring at. Those arms that had caught her twice now had left their mark. To feel them again…feel his lips on hers. They’d looked so soft. And his muscular body with the tattooed arms…

 

“We’re here,” Mitch said, interrupting what was quickly turning into an R-rated fantasy.

 

“Oh, right,” Phoebe said and tucked her cell back in her clutch, hoping she wasn’t blushing too much. Things were getting a bit heated in her head, but the second Mitch took her hand, they all fell away. He was her date for the night. This was the man she had to focus on. At least for the moment.

 

If she got bored, she’d sneak away and call the pirate back.

 

Ben the pirate…doesn’t really fit too well.

 

“Phoebe, if I may?”

 

Mitch offered her his hand and helped her out of the limo. There were paparazzi lined up outside the black velvet rope that blocked off the main entrance from anyone except invited guests. Phoebe had never been to an event like this. Bright lights flashed all around her, and she felt completely out of her element. It took everything she had not to jump back into the limo and tell the driver to take her back home. Praying she wouldn’t trip on her heels, she let Mitch guide her towards the front doors. She kept her face turned from the cameras as best as she could until they were through the doors.

 

“Wow…holy shit,” she whispered as she stared at the ballroom.

 

Mitch laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. These guys like to go all out. Think it actually impresses people.”

 

“It’s incredible, the flowers, the lights…it’s like a fairytale.”

 

There were tables scattered around the outer edges of the large ballroom, fresh roses and dahlias in tall glass vases. The smell was intoxicating. Candles were lit all around them and music played on a platform in the back, all strings. There were several couples already dancing—dancing in a way that Phoebe knew she never could. Waiters in tuxes walked around, carrying trays of champagne and scotch, appetizers and bottles of wine.

 

“Come on, I have to mingle with some people, but I promise, I’ll get you a dance soon,” Mitch said, and together, they headed over to another group of men and women dressed much as she and Mitch were. Except those women wore real jewels.

 

She snatched a glass of champagne as a waiter walked by and started to sip it. This night was going to be a long one.

 

***

 

Phoebe slipped away two hours later when Mitch was still busy talking to…hell, she didn’t even know who they were anymore. They’d spent time with so many people, and she’d hardly said two words. First, she didn’t know what she should even say to people like this, and second, none of them so much as looked at her. She might be pretty, but the other women were socially qualified for these types of events. Phoebe was not. She scurried away, out of the ballroom and down the hall, trying to find a quiet place to sit for a few minutes and kick off her shoes.

 

“I know that look,” a woman about her age said, stepping out of the bathroom.

 

“Excuse me?” Phoebe asked.

 

The woman smiled and pointed at her bare feet. “New shoes. Never a good idea to break in the heels at these damn things. You’ll have blisters for days.”

 

“Yeah, really didn’t think that part through. They just looked so good with the dress.”

 

“I’ll give you that one.” She sat down on the bench next to Phoebe and kicked off her own silver heels that matched her dark grey dress. “Other than the shoes, are you enjoying yourself?”

 

Phoebe tried to smile, but whatever look did appear on her face made the woman laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

 

“If you could see your face, you’d be thinking the same thing.”