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I gently take his hand away, unsure of what he’s been touching lately. “Thank you, sweetheart.” I shyly glance up at Dalton. “What do you think?”
He pushes his palms on his knees and rises. “What do I think?” He rubs the back of his head. I’ve never seen him hesitate to find words. The guy could write speeches—he’s so articulate. Dalton drags a hand down his cheek and across his mouth. “It’s perfect.” He stands taller, and his smile grows. “You look perfect, Pamela.”
My stomach dips at hearing him use my full name for the first time. I glance at my toes and then at Rex beside me. “Okay. I’ll get changed. Won’t be a minute.” I flee to the fitting room and do my breathing exercises. What in the world was that? I’m in deep poo poo.
Chapter Five
Dalton
I step into the hotel’s ballroom with Pam at my side. The dress she showed me at the shop fits her to perfection, but she still seems nervous. Her hand flutters where it rests on my forearm. We stroll across the room like we’re in a Victorian novel. Everything glitters, from the crystal platters holding tiny appetizers to the sparkling dresses nearly every woman wears.
None of them can hold a candle to Pam. She glows from the inside out with her caring heart and generous smile.
The band takes their place on a raised platform opposite the opulently decorated tables draped in white cloths with candles in the center. The battery-operated flames look real, but there’s no way the hotel would allow open flames like this. Especially not with so many flammable skirts swishing around.
I draw Pam into my arms and wink. “Would you like to dance?”
She nibbles on her lip and swallows hard. “Is it necessary?”
“Absolutely.” I manage to keep a straight face. We could get away with a turn around the room to speak to the other benefactors before retiring to a table for the night. But there’s no way I’m giving up my best chance at holding Pam in my arms.
She made the rules clear before we started this charade. I can’t help but hope that things take a more romantic turn.
Mother stalks into the ballroom and makes a beeline for me.
Pam sees, and her button nose scrunches.
I spin her in the opposite direction, shielding her from the death glare. How do women do that? My shoulders tense as I feel Mother’s gaze pierce the back of my neck. She’s a woman on a mission, and even though she won’t dare make a scene in front of all these people, she’s certain to let me have it later.
Pam takes a step back and bumps into another couple. The woman shoots daggers in Pam’s direction. The look changes in a snap when she notices me. A coy smile appears, and she drops her arms away from her partner. “Dalton Jefferies.” She holds out a hand.
We might not be in a historical novel, but this is still a breach of etiquette. I dip my head and paste on a smile. “Apologies for the disruption.” I slide us sideways. “Please don’t let us ruin your dance. You seemed to be having a marvelous time.” I offer my best impression of what an Austen man might sound like.
Pam stifles a giggle in my shoulder and refuses to look at me until we’re well away from the pair.
A waltz begins. Pam tenses in my arms.
“Follow my lead.” I try to encourage her, but she’s focusing on her feet. I place a finger under her chin and lift her head until our eyes meet. “It’s okay.”
We start well as I gently press her shoulder blade toward where she needs to go. But then, out of the blue, Pam’s foot crashes on my toes. “Sorry,” she hisses around a tight smile.
I hide a grimace. “No problem.” I keep my body and voice relaxed. There’s no need to make her feel worse.
Her cheeks flush, and she stiffens again after stomping my toes a second and third time in rapid succession.
People are noticing. Murmurs and quiet laughter drift our way. Pam turns rigid. “I can’t do this.”
She must be nervous or somehow forgot all the moves we practiced. She glances at me, and I can’t read the sudden change in her expression. My heart trips and then speeds up. What if she’s nervous because she feels something for me too?
I haven’t made my feelings crystal clear, but I know she saw how I looked at her in the dress shop. She must know I’m interested.
Maybe if I put the words out there, just tell her outright, it will ease her mind.
Mother catches my eye, and a new thought intrudes. Maybe Pam is simply worried over the looks she’s getting from Mother. Her glare is rather intimidating. Time to jump ship. Abort mission. I imagine a siren blipping in my head and cast a quick look around the room. Dancers have closed in and almost filled the dance floor. Several couples sit at the tables and appear in deep discussion. I recognize many of them from other charities we all support.
Pam manages to step on my toes and elbow me at the same time. I’ve no idea how she pulled that off. Her grunt sounds like exasperation, and she tugs back, trying to leave.
I keep hold of her hand but lead us off the dance floor. Curious stares follow us, but no one interrupts.
