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I blink at him, unsure how to answer.
“It’s okay. You can admit you liked it too.”
“I-I’m somewhat involved with someone else,” I say, sounding absurdly prim.
And lying through my teeth.
“Really? Where’s he at?” Tate glances around the cavernous ballroom.
I can’t tell him Ian left, though I already did say exactly that. Even if Ian were here, I’m sure he wouldn’t go along with me if I asked him to. He would probably gently correct me and insist to Tate that we’re just friends.
Sometimes, Ian can be... annoying.
“He’s around,” I say, hoping I sound mysterious.
“Uh-huh.” He scrubs the side of his jaw, his gaze full of doubt.
I realize I need to change the subject fast. I decide to go the polite route. “Thank you again for performing at my party.”
“Thank you again for helping me out,” he returns, referring to the kiss.
I just know he is.
Is he still thinking about it? I am, even though I’d be loath to admit it. He’s not the man I wanted to kiss on my birthday, though my younger self would’ve absolutelydiedat the chance to kisstheTate Ramsey.
But he’s not that same teen heartthrob anymore. And I’m not that young girl anymore either.
The kiss was still good, though, as reluctant as I am to admit it.
“I’m sorry I was rude to you before. I was out of sorts and upset over something, but it’s fine now,” I tell him, feeling the need to apologize.
His brows draw together in concern. “What made you so upset?”
“Oh, nothing really.” I shake my head, not about to go into detail about my pathetic pseudorelationship with Ian. “It’s not that important.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m very sure.” I nod, trying to laugh, but I stop at how fake it sounds. “You can stay for the party and hang out if you’d like.”
Oh, that sounded stupid. He must think I’m ridiculous. I’m sure he has a gorgeous woman who he calls his girlfriend and a bunch of friends he prefers to spend time with waiting for him to be done. The last thing he wants to do is hang out at some rich girl’s eighteenth-birthday party.
He takes two steps closer, the warm, woodsy scent of his cologne washing over me, and I lock my knees so I don’t wobble and tip over. “Happy birthday, Scarlett,” he murmurs, his deep voice settling for a too-brief moment with a throb between my legs.
And then he’s gone.
* * *
“There you are! Oh my God, what happened to you?” Rachel grabs hold of my hand, stopping me from blindly walking past her.
I stop short, trying to offer up a smile as she watches me with true confusion in her gaze. “Sorry, I went... to the bathroom.”
“Ah.” She accepts my answer with ease. “Well, you missed the dancers.”
“No, I didn’t.” I incline my head toward the voluptuous women moving across the stage, their bodies moving to the slow yet steady beat. “They’re right there.”
“They’re almost done.” Rachel hooks her arm through mine, her smile bright. “They’re great and all, but no one can top that performance by Tate Ramsey. My God, he was amazing! I hope you enjoyed it, or were you worrying about Ian the entire time?”
I bristle at her mentioning Ian. Or maybe that’s a case of guilt washing over me. “Of course I enjoyed it. He even called me up onstage.”
