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“Olivia, darling,” a velvety, cultured voice crooned. “It’s been an age.”
Nicola St. Martin materialized at her side. The wealthy socialite’s midnight hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, complimenting the boat neckline of her caped sheath dress. The blush color was a stunning contrast to her sun-kissed complexion.
A casual observer might peg her for early forties. But a closer inspection would detect the unnatural firmness around the woman’s eyes, mouth, and forehead.
Money was a great preservative.
After the obligatory cheek bussing, Nicola gave Liv’s navy-blue chiffon dress with its tulip hem an approving glance. Liv might have turned her back on her mother’s lifestyle, but that didn’t mean she lacked an eye for fashion. She simply preferred comfort ninety percent of the time.
“Gorgeous, as always,” Nicola said. “I understand you have not come alone tonight. Do you want to point him out? Or shall I guess?”
Liv nodded toward the trio on the other side of the room. “He’s currently undergoing Thornton interrogation.”
Nicola followed Liv’s gaze, and smiled. “Your mother has been waiting years to sink her teeth into another marital prospect. Callie is too young, and Pierce has yet to present an eligible young woman.” She angled her head in the way predators do when sizing up their prey. “He’s quite extraordinary, my dear. If only I were twenty years younger.”
Liv didn’t miss the fact that she didn’t include “unmarried” in her list of qualifications.
It was widely known that the St. Martins enjoyed an open marriage. According to those in the know, Hugh spent his winters at their Miami home and Nicola preferred the Vail scene.
She tried not to judge people’s choices, especially if those choices hurt no one. But she simply couldn’t wrap her mind around sharing someone she loved with another woman—women.
Watching woman after woman, young and old, approach Zeke tonight had proven one thing to her. Her starving heart had already attached itself to the dark-eyed devil. The splintering that she had hoped to head off would begin the moment she said goodbye.
Something of her thoughts must have registered on her face, for Zeke extricated himself from his interrogators and made a beeline toward her.
“Interesting,” Nicola said.
Liv tore her gaze away from Zeke. “Pardon?”
“Your escort is more than a convenient plus-one. Regina suspected as much.”
“My mother spoke to you about Zeke and me?”
“Of course. We have been friends since high school. There are few topics off-limits.”
It shouldn’t bother her that this woman knew her mother better than she. But it did.
Many times, over the years, she had wished for a closer relationship with Regina Thornton. One where they gossiped together, shopped together, went on long walks together.
No such relationship existed between the two of them. Liv didn’t even know her mother’s favorite color or food or book.
Parties and travel and meetings occupied her mother’s time, and Liv didn’t see her busy schedule changing any time soon.
When Zeke joined them, he snaked an arm around Liv’s waist and drew their bodies together like two Kit Kat bars. If the lack of personal space didn’t tip everyone off that they had slept together, his lingering kiss to her temple set aside anyone’s doubts.
“Did I miss anything?” he asked in a low, sexy voice.
Despite knowing the warmth in his voice was for their audience, she still had to draw in a calming breath before answering.
“Zeke, let me introduce you to Mrs. St. Martin, my mother’s dear friend.”
“Nicola, please.” She held out her hand. “Mrs. St. Martin makes me feel so old.” Her mouth curled into a suggestive smile. “And I do not want to feel old in your presence.”
“Impossible,” Zeke said.
In true James Bond fashion, he kissed the back of her outstretched hand, never taking his eyes off the older woman’s. Nicola’s chest seemed to expand twice its size, though Zeke’s attention never wavered from her face.
A moment later, he straightened, releasing her hand slowly, almost reluctantly.
A woman would have to be stone cold inside not to be affected by such sensual masculinity. Nicola, with all her sophistication, didn’t prove to be an exception.
“Hmm,” the older woman all but purred. “I can see why Olivia is protective of you.” Her hazel eyes took on a speculative look, then cleared as if she had come to a decision.
In the distance, a deep voice called the guests into dinner.
Nicola gestured to her husband, then snaked her arm through Zeke’s. She looked at Liv. “You don’t mind swapping partners for dinner, do you, dear? Hugh will be happy to escort you.”
The socialite didn’t wait for an answer. She swept forward, displaying Zeke as if he were a newly acquired Van Gogh.
