“And I don’t mean her,” I quickly clarified. “About the teeth.”
“I know.” Ana laughed softly. As a musician who appreciated sounds, I wanted to hear it again, and again.
“Then there’s a lot of friends and business associates, some of both.”
“Is your lawyer Nelson here?”
“He usually makes an appearance.”
“I’ll have to meet him. We’ve already spoken about fifty times over the last 24 hours.”
“He looks exactly like you’d expect.”
“Trim, tidy, organized.”
“Exactly.”
“OK, kiddos.” From behind, Lola swooped down on us, literally extending her arms around both of our shoulders like the wings of a giant hawk. I knew Gram wasn’t happy about her appearance here tonight. Gram was a warm and welcoming woman, if she liked you. Lola and she had met a couple of times. Lola hadn’t gotten the invite to tea. I’d promised that her stay tonight would be brief.
“Great job out there exiting the car. You gave them some great shots.”
I nodded, already annoyed. I was used to Lola’s constant, intrusive management, but not right now. Right now I wanted to get my girl a glass of champagne and see where the night might lead. I could be convinced to take her out for a turn on the dance floor. I bet Gigi would like to meet her. And then I knew of a couple of choice dark corners and hallways. I could give her a private tour.
“Two o’clock, mistletoe,” Lola told us in the hushed whisper of an army sergeant. “A guy’s in place. Go give him something to shoot.”
“OK, then.” I caught hold of Ana’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Do you know what she’s talking about?” Ana whispered to me. I liked the feel of her leaning in to me, her light fragrance.
“She wants us to kiss under the mistletoe while someone videos it.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Half the time I have no idea what she’s saying.”
“She has her own language. You’ll get used to it.”
Ana shuddered. She was right, it wasn’t something she should get used to. I had a moment, brief, of wondering what I was doing here, dragging this innocent, sweet woman into my world of using and getting used. Then I dragged her over underneath the mistletoe and used her to get some good pics to rehab my image.
Under an archway, a strategically-placed dangling piece of mistletoe was a must at any holiday party. The Waldorf Astoria certainly wasn’t going to stint on traditional details. It dangled above us, a bright red ribbon offering it down, giving us not just the excuse, but a mandate to kiss. In the corner of my eye I could see Lola giving me subtle stage directions, nodding her head to the man in place, wanting me to shift my angle so he could be sure to perfectly capture the candid moment.
I shifted. I angled. I wrapped my hand around Anika’s waist. She looked up at me, her hand resting lightly on my chest.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” I said.
She smiled, as if I were the one giving her a gift. “This party is amazing.”
“You look gorgeous.”
“I don’t think the stylists enjoyed working with me today.” She bit her lip, actually looking like she felt bad. “They tried to do a whole bunch more to me, but I wouldn’t let them.”
“I’m so glad.” Admiring, I stroked her silky hair feathering down her back. “You didn’t need a makeover.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” Caressing her cheek, I tilted her head up a bit. “You know what we’re standing underneath?”
“Yes.” Damn if she didn’t flush, a tantalizing light pink stealing into her cheeks. She made this all look so real, so natural. I bet Lola was having a cow in joy over her performance.
“May I kiss you?”
She looked up at me, sparkling, almost as if she were enjoying the display, as if we were having a laugh together, just the two of us. “Yes.”
It was just a kiss, chaste and quick, staged and recorded in the middle of a party with all of my relatives. But the warmth of her lips, her yielding softness, the slight, suggestive curve of her lower back, Anika mesmerized me. I was the practiced one, the one used to rehearsing and executing staged moves. But she was the one who kept her head about her and broke off our kiss, leaning briefly against my shoulder, almost as if she needed a second to recover herself.
“You’re here!” my sister, Gigi, declared with glee as she approached us. She looked like a vision with small white flowers wound into her hair and a long, pale blue sheath dress. Thank God she always dressed like a virginal bride, at least when I saw her. I didn’t think I could handle the sight of my baby sister slutting it up.
“Gigi.” I gave her a hug, wishing for a moment I saw her more often. I always enjoyed it when I did. But I was off in my world and she was in hers, pursuing her college degree, being the good daughter. It would be nothing short of contamination to mix her up with the kinds of people I spent every day all day with. Only Ana wasn’t one of them.
“I’d like to introduce you to Anika.” The two of them began chatting, each lighting up with an instant liking of the other.
“Asher.” An older British cousin, second twice removed or something like that, came over to me, all jowls and disapproval. I forgot his name, but I certainly remembered his annual habit of taking me aside at the family party to warn me about living up to the family name. He’d d
escended from a duke, he liked to remind me, and used the word indubitably quite frequently as he gave me the pep talk about family obligation. No one was less impressed with my stardom than my family. The Brits, especially, seemed to find it damned inconvenient.
“I’m stealing her for a minute,” Gigi announced, thrilled with her new friend. Just as I was about to use Ana as an excuse to break away. “She has to come meet Kara. She’s adorable.”
Who was Kara? Oh, right, the new rancher guy’s wife. My sister-in-law. I let the jowls do the talking for a few more minutes while I made my way through a fresh drink, then excused myself to go find Lola. Her visitor’s visa had expired. I didn’t want her hovering around all night.
But I found Ana first. That smile. She tossed her head back in genuine laughter, Gigi actually holding onto her arm with affection as they stood with a blonde woman I guessed was Kara. My new sister-in-law.
“Where did you find her?” Colton Kavanaugh, resident killjoy, asked dryly. At. The. Helm.
“Hey, Colt.” Instantly, my voice sounded sulky. How did he do that to me so quickly? It didn’t matter how many stages I’d been on in front of how many tens of thousands of screaming fans, my older brother still made me feel like an idiot.
“She’s not your usual type.”
“What’s my usual type?”
Colton gave an infuriating arch of his eyebrow, superior and righteous, as if he didn’t need to explain anything further. And he didn’t. I knew exactly what he meant and he was right. I hated Colt.
“Who did you bring tonight?” I asked. Colton preferred the well-bred daughters of CEOs, the types who rode horses and ate their inferiors for breakfast.
“Flying solo.”
Yeah, he did that a lot, too. The man was an island.
“Asher, about all this bad press with that girl. It’s a bad time for you to be—”
“Hey, Colt, I’d love to stay and talk about what a fuck up I am, but…” At exactly the right moment, Ana turned and met my eye. She looked so damn happy to see me, so thrilled. She had to be faking it, I knew that. She’d basically tried to run right out of my hotel room last night. I’d only shoe-horned her into agreeing to spending a month with me by pulling out my checkbook, and not even for her, for her freaking library branch. But it had worked, and she was mine now, for the whole month. No time like the present to kick things off.