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She grins at me, widens her eyes, and then subtly nods at Declan. Her cheeks are flushed and she seems happy.
They stop a few feet away.
“We were just dancing. Declan’s an amazing dancer.” She looks up at him with a sultry smile. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
Declan scowls at me. “No. There isn’t.”
Hey. What did I do?
He said no in his short terse way. I notice that he’s even stiffer than usual. His jaw is tight and his lips are turned down. He glares at me and completely ignores both Kate and Michael.
Well.
If he didn’t want to dance with Kate he should’ve just told her. Jeez.
Kate clears her throat in the awkward silence that follows his terse pronouncement. Then she says, “Well…I certainly love confidence in a man.”
Declan doesn’t react to her announcement. So Kate sends an appraising look Michael’s way. I’m sure she hasn’t met him, since, like he mentioned, he’s only been on the island since this morning.
I try to break the icy tension coming from Declan with a jovial introduction.
“Kate, this is Michael Sherman. Michael is from England and an avid walker. Michael, this is Kate Collingwood. She’s also from England, although sadly, she loves to fly and prefers driving over walking.”
I smile at Michael and he gives me a conspiratorial wink.
“It’s a pleasure.” He holds out his hand to Kate. She takes her arm from Declan’s and gives Michael her hand.
“Likewise,” Kate says. When she smiles her button nose crinkles in an adorable sort of way.
Once Kate drops Michael’s hand I say, “And Michael, this is—”
“Hullo, Dec,” Michael says.
I look at him in surprise. I had no idea he knew Declan. Well, I mean, it was obvious he knew who he was, because he asked why I was staring at Declan. But I didn’t know that they were close enough for him to call him Dec.
“Sherman,” Declan says. And even as accustomed as I am to Declan’s usual stiffness, I’m completely taken aback by his cold tone.
“I didn’t expect to run into you here,” says Michael, apparently as oblivious as Percy is to Declan’s demeanor. “Good to see you, mate.”
In the usual course of conversation, it would be Declan’s turn to say, “good to see you, too.” But Declan doesn’t do usual. He remains tight-lipped and silent, implying that it’s not good to see Michael.
“Well…ummm…the gala’s nice, isn’t it?” I say lamely.
Declan sends a thunderous look my way.
What in the world?
I don’t care if he is a billionaire and sweetly let me sleep on his chest, he’s being a jerk. In fact, he’s being exactly like he was when I met him the first time. Apparently, first impressions are more accurate than second impressions.
“Very nice. It’s a lovely gala,” Kate says.
“With even lovelier company,” Michael adds. “I’m so pleased I met you. Isla, would you do me the honor of—”
“Dance with me,” Declan interrupts.
He holds out his hand to me. It hangs between us, demanding my acquiescence. As if on cue, the band begins the chords of another song.
I stare at Declan in shock.
He stares back at me, his gaze unyielding and unrepentant.
Are you kidding me?
Did he just rudely interrupt when Michael was about to ask me to dance? Did he just demand that I dance with him instead?
“Sorry?”
“Dance with me,” he demands.
His hand still hangs in the air between us.
Kate looks between us and wrinkles her brow. She’s confused, but also too diplomatic to say anything. Michael shifts uncomfortably. I imagine he’s too polite to say anything too. But by their postures, both Kate and Michael feel incredibly awkward and uncomfortable.
If Declan had asked me on the little deserted island to dance, if he’d danced with me under the gazebo with the rainfall as our soundtrack, I’d have felt a ping of happiness, maybe even a certain swooniness. After I’d opened up, and he’d shared with me, I would’ve danced with him. And I may have felt something in his arms. But that was then, and this is now.
And right now he’s being a jerk.
Apparently last night was out of character for Declan, and he’s back to his old self.
Michael and Percy may be oblivious to his rudeness, and Kate may not feel comfortable telling Declan he’s being awful, but I don’t mind. After all, I’m not the one trying to endear myself to him, and I’m not his old friend or mate.
“No,” I say. And I say it in as terse and tight a voice as he uses.
Declan’s eyebrows lift. “Excuse me?”
“No.” And because it seems he needs a little more of an explanation I say, “Thank you for the kind offer, but as you’ve made perfectly clear, you aren’t interested in dancing, and I truly don’t want to inconvenience you. Thank you for the offer, but no.”
Declan’s expression finally shifts from cold and stiff to stunned. The look is only for a moment, but it seems that my rejection shocked him.
I give him a small smile. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, I just don’t want him to treat the people I’m with so rudely.
“Please excuse me.” I nod at him. Slowly, he dips his chin in acknowledgement and drops his hand.
“Of course,” he says.
And that’s that.
I want to tell Declan that it doesn’t mean anything, or that he doesn’t find me pretty anyway, but none of that can or should be said in front of Michael and Kate. Or really, maybe it shouldn’t be said at all.
Declan isn’t my type. He isn’t the meandering, slow-going, normal kind of relationship guy.
He’s the high-speed train kind of guy and Kate’s holding out a ticket to ride.
I turn back to Michael. “You were saying?”
He stares at me for a moment, a shocked look on his face that he quickly covers with an amiable smile. “I…ah…was going to ask for the honor of…retrieving you a glass of wine.”
Hah.
I’ll bet my right foot that he was going to ask me to dance but he doesn’t want to offend the curmudgeon known as Declan Fox.
Oh well.
“Thank you. I’ll come with you,” I say.
Poor Michael, a nice guy, railroaded by Declan Fox, cranky billionaire titan.
I turn and give Kate a subtle wink. She sends me a look that lets me know we’ll be discussing all of this later. But I can tell she’s happy to be left on her own with Declan.
I grab my notebook and camera, then say, “See you later Kate. Declan. Enjoy the night.”
Michael and I walk across the sand toward the outdoor bar. We’re both quiet for a few moments as we pass more tables and groups of people. There’s a silent auction section with paintings by local artists, sculptures of sea life, gift baskets and packages for stays at local resorts or sunset sails.
I slow as we pass the art table. There’s a sculpted sea turtle that’s particularly beautiful.
“Just a moment,” I say to Michael.
Then I bend down and write my name at the bottom of the sheet with a bid twenty dollars higher than the previous bidder. It’s still a low bid, although it’s at the top of my budget. It’s extremely unlikely that I’ll win, but you never know, maybe I’ll get lucky.
“You have good taste,” Michael says.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I ask.
