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She squelched the sheer envy that whipped through her at the sight of the two of them dancing. It was beneath her, especially since she had almost caused them to break up. And, for once in her life, she would not wallow in her own self-pity.
Cynthia sighed. Okay, she felt a little jealous, but that was to be expected. Max and Anna definitely had something very special. When you were in a room with them, you could feel the energy between them, so any red-blooded American girl would be envious. Even after everything, though, she was happy for them. Happy that they had found each other.
Throughout the day, she’d ignored the looks cast her way—some expectant, waiting for a fight; some pitying, thinking her the jilted party. She didn’t care. She had other things on her mind. Like being homeless.
“Such a serious expression on such a beautiful face.”
She glanced over her shoulder and turned to face Chris Dupree, who was standing just a few feet behind her. Tall, lean, yet well-muscled, with light brown skin, Chris smiled at her, and her knees weakened. He had one of those smiles you could tell would melt the heart of the hardest woman, all teeth, complete with dimples. Add in what looked to be a body made of sinewy muscle, a strong jawline—which Cynthia could never resist—and those twinkling eyes, and the man was Dangerous with a capital D. She’d love to lick him up one side and down the other just to see if he tasted as sweet as he appeared.
Good God.Where had that thought come from? She’d had too much champagne. Or maybe shehadspent too much time with Anna. Or maybe it was watchingNew Romantics, the new Jakob Wulf romantic comedy. There was no other reason for her to be acting this way. She’d never thought herself a bigot, but she’d never even considered dating a black man before. And here she was, contemplating what Chris would taste like. If her father thought breaking her engagement to Max had been embarrassing to the family, he would have a stroke if she dated a black man, no matter how rich he was. Justin Myers came from a good old Southern family, with lots of old Southern money. Just last week she’d heard an aunt refer to the Civil War as the War of Northern Aggression.
She set her empty glass on a nearby table and arched her brow. “Are you having a good time, Mr. Dupree?”
His smile widened. “Are you going to ignore my question?”
Irritation lit through her, but she suppressed the urge to snap at him. It almost overwhelmed her, the need to tell him to go to hell and leave her alone. But twenty-nine years of lessons couldn’t be overcome by a little champagne. Besides, Cynthia had been raised not to confront problems. Her mother had always said it was better to smile and work your way around it. But more and more, especially because of the last few weeks, she found it harder to do. Thirty years of training down the drain. Just another symptom of spending time with Anna.
She smiled. “It wasn’t exactly a question, Mr. Dupree.”
Her voice had turned coy, all of its own accord. His eyes flared, just a bit, and his smile went from genial to seductive. She blinked as her thoughts scattered. A flush of warmth spread to her tummy and then ventured to the rest of her body.
She reached for another glass of champagne.
“I thought you said you would call me Chris.”
Ahhh, he had the best voice. Deep, almost poetic, the flavor of New Orleans flowing through it. Each time he spoke, she could feel fingers slide down her spine. She took a sip of champagne before answering.
“Sorry. It’s just my upbringing.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I know all about that, Ms. Cynthia. My mother didn’t allow any of her children to show disrespect.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Apparently, she’d lost her ability to hold idle chit-chat, something she’d excelled at just the day before. It was this man’s fault. He was smiling at her, talking to her in a voice that promised lazy Sundays in bed.
Oh, bad idea, Cynthia. Don’t think about this man and bed.Sex with Chris Dupree was way out of her league. The man oozed sensuality with every move. He looked like a man who knew what he wanted and didn’t have a problem going after it. Max was like that. But where Max had made her nervous, Chris made her uncomfortable. Cynthia had a feeling Chris would know how to ease her discomfort, starting with those magnificent hands. Again, her face heated as her mind conjured up images of the two of them.
What was wrong with her? Hell, she didn’t even like the act. And why was she thinking about bedding this man? Or thinking of any man in that area? So, what if just the thought of him wearing nothing but that smile made her nipples harden?
She cleared her throat. “Your mother sounds a lot like mine. Max said you grew up in New Orleans, but you live in Honolulu now?”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving her face. Oh Lord, she was babbling. She shifted her feet, trying to ignore the dampness between her thighs. Her panties rubbed against her mound, ratcheting up her tension.
“Do I make you uncomfortable, Ms. Cynthia?” He stretched out her name, emphasizing the “Cyn” part of it. She had to hand it to the man—he knew how to make a woman pant. And drool. She was tempted to wipe her mouth to check.
“Chris, I have an idea that you know exactly what you’re making me feel.”
His eyes widened in feigned innocence. “You think I’m doing it on purpose?”
She didn’t miss the way his eyes skimmed down her body, pausing briefly in the area of her breasts. He had to know she was turned-on. Her nipples were pressing against her blouse.
“I don’t think you do it on purpose. It probably just comes naturally.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound of it drawing the attention of people close by. Nerves already out of whack stretched thinner, and she drained her glass. She didn’t need this stress. It had been a difficult few months, and now having a man whom she could never handle flirt with her—it was too much. Not to mention the interested stares of people she knew.
Then the absurdity of the situation hit her. This man wasn’t hitting on her. Men like him would never be interested in Cynthia. A bubble of laughter escaped before she could stop it.
“Seems like you two are having a good time.”
Cynthia jumped as Max’s disapproving voice cut through their laughter. She peeked back over her shoulder and had to fight a giggle. The thunderous expression on his face reminded her of a big brother itching to bust a few heads on her behalf. She would always see him as that and would have even if they had married. The one smart thing she did was break off their engagement. Anna slipped around him and approached Cynthia and Chris.
