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Probably.
That’s it. He’d stay there and she’d stay here. She took a few slow, deep breaths, then told herself over and over again that it was no big deal. That everything was fine.
On the screen, Fred Astaire was sweeping Ginger Rogers across a dance floor, singing about something or other and gazing into her eyes dolefully.
Would there be dancing at the gala tonight?
There usually was. It was the chance for wealthy old men to try to get close to young, sometimes-single ladies. And for businessmen to try to make important connections.
Brooks would probably have to dance with someone.
He was well versed in how to charm women, she knew, so it would make sense that he'd want to be seen.
She could handle that.
Though, probably he'd be too busy with Franco to worry about charming anyone else.
Her doorbell rang and she shot up before racing to the door.
She'd seen Dominic on the TV. It couldn't be him. He couldn't have gotten here so--
She opened the door to find Brooks waiting there, a huge dress box in his hands.
"Me and your fluffy pink bathrobe meet again, I see." He surveyed her clothing and then shouldered through the doorway. “You really make that thing a priority."
"Brooks, I—"
"You've been avoiding me." He set the box on the coffee table, and then sat back on the couch. "Normally, I'd blow off my plans and spend
time with you, but I can't tonight. So, if the Muhammad won't go to the mountain..."
"I haven't been avoiding you. I've just been busy." Why was she talking so fast? She just had to take a breath, one deep breath and she could convince him to go without her.
To dance with every woman in the place so long as she didn't have to go. No matter how her stomach churned at the thought.
"You've been leaving work early, not answering my calls, abandoning your desk. If that's not avoiding me—"
"It' just a coincidence."
"Just tell me what I did. I'll make it better. But don't do this." He looked up at her with so much earnestness that she had to chew on her tongue to keep from telling him everything.
It was the worst possible timing.
And seeing him in that tuxedo did nothing to make her job any easier.
But she had to let him down.
Maybe if she told him she couldn't be with him, he'd leave and she could tell him on Monday she'd changed her mind. It always worked like that in the movies.
"I got you something." He leaned over the coffee table and pulled out the most gorgeous blue ball gown she'd ever seen.
It wasn't beaded or lacy like the ones she'd seen on the news. This was all satin, and when it moved, it looked like running water.
"You didn't have to do that." She swallowed.
"I know that. But I know you hate this stuff, and I thought you probably turned me down because you're scared to go back into that world. Like maybe you've forgotten what to do. But you don't have to worry about that. Whatever happens tonight, I'll stand by you. I promise."
He smiled and she stared from him to the dress and back again.
