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“I’m flexible.”
“I’m sure you are.”
His mouth curves.
The bartender places my drink between us, breaking whatever dangerous little pocket of air we’ve created.
I pick it up and take a sip. Sweet. Strong.
Exactly what I asked for. Cal watches my mouth against the rim of the glass.
I lower it. “What?”
His gaze lingers for one more beat.
“Nothing,” he says, voice rougher now. His eyes flick to the bartender who has remained frustratingly nearby. Probably a good thing, though. What are we doing?
“So, why the spontaneous trip to the bar?” Cal’s face returns to normal. Was the lust ever there? Did I imagine it?
“Nothing.” I turn my drink in my hands. “I just needed a moment away from—” I stop. Take a breath. The irate feeling is still there, sitting right under my sternum where I can’t do anything useful with it. “Do they not know?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re a brilliant musician.” It comes out fierce and angry. “I’ve heard you. I’ve heard what you do, Cal, and these people are smiling like you told them you do watercolors on weekends.” I pick up my drink. “It bothers me. On your behalf. I know that’s not my business, but it does.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you defending me right now?”
“Maybe. I just—” I put my drink down harder than I mean to. “I can’t help it.”
He turns fully toward me, leaning one elbow on the bar, which brings him close enough that I have to look up to hold his gaze, and I am not going to look away first. His eyes in this light look even more beautiful than normal, basically ethereal.
“Come here,” he says quietly, and he grabs my hand as he turns me slightly, angling us both away from the room. Just enough. Just so we’re in our own zone, the noise of the gala a degree further away.
He leans down.
His mouth is close to my ear, close enough that I can feel his warmth, and I am very focused on not reacting to that in any visible way.
“Thank you,” he says.
Low. Private. Just for me.
His hand settles at the small of my back, warm through the thin silk of my dress. He doesn’t pull me closer, but his thumb moves once, barely there, and every nerve in my body notices.
“For what?”
“For coming tonight.”
I glance toward the ballroom. “Well, you needed protection from the duck professor.”
“I did.” His mouth curves. His gaze moves over my face, then down the red silk before returning to my eyes.
“You look fucking beautiful tonight, Bea.”
My heart gives one hard, humiliating thud.
I tighten my fingers around my glass. “Only tonight?”
The corner of his mouth lifts.
