“May I?” I asked.
Whitmore blinked, but Edwina answered first. “I’m already dancing.”
I looked at Whitmore and smiled, though there was nothing friendly behind it. “I don’t think there will be a problem if I steal your dance partner for a moment.”
It sounded like a request. It wasn’t.
Whitmore hesitated, then released her hand. “Of course,” he said lightly. “Dean’s privilege, I suppose.”
Edwina looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
Too late.
The moment his hand left hers, mine took its place. I drew her closer before she could step back, close enough for her dress to brush my suit, close enough to feel the anger in her breath.
“Hayden,” she warned under her breath.
My hand settled at her waist, exactly where his had been, and something ugly in me finally eased.
“Relax, my little Flare,” I murmured, guiding her into the music. “I’m taking back what he had no business touching.”
“You are insufferable,” she muttered.
“And yet,” I said, guiding her into the next step, “you haven’t walked away.”
Her eyes lifted to mine. “You stole me from my dance partner.”
“I rescued you from a boring one.”
“Daniel is not boring.”
My smile faded just enough for her to notice. “Careful.”
Her brows lifted. “What? Does his name bother you?”
“Everything about him bothers me when he’s standing near you.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“It became my problem when his hand touched your waist.”
Her mouth tightened, though the color in her cheeks deepened. “You had no right to interrupt.”
“I wanted you.”
“That is not a reason.”
“It is for me.”
For a moment, the music moved around us, low and slow, filling the space where neither of us seemed willing to breathe properly. My hand stayed at her waist, and hers rested againstmy shoulder as if she hated the contact and needed it at the same time.
“You’re making a scene,” she said.
“No one is watching.”
“They will be.”
“Then let them learn something.”
