“It was a last-minute thing.”
“A very expensive last-minute thing,” he muttered. He extended his hand to Nick. “Lucian Patras.”
Nick stood. “Nick Ramsey. Nice to meet you.”
They shook and Lucian turned his gaze back to her, his displeasure at her presence slightly
concealed, but very much obvious nonetheless. Her spine stiffened at the indignity of being caught and
made to feel foolish. She was mad at herself but linked it all back to the intimidating man staring her down.
Her chin lifted. “You’ll have to introduce me to your date,” she said succinctly.
His lips tightened. “Might I have a word?”
She glanced back at Nick, who shrugged. “I think they’ll be serving dinner soon—”
His fingers wrapped around her arm. It was a casual gesture, but there was steel behind his grip.
“Just a moment of your time.”
She barely had a chance to shoot Nick an apologetic glance before Lucian dragged her away from
the table. “You’re hurting my arm,” she hissed as he deftly worked his way through the crowd.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer. Her feet worked hard to keep up with his clipped pace as he shuffled her down a
corridor and out a door. They were in a courtyard when he finally released her. She glared at him,
rubbing her arm.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed.
It was her turn to scowl. “Celebrating the Rose Bowl.”
“Do you even know what the Rose Bowl is, Evelyn?”
No. “Yes,” she answered indignantly.
He gave her a look that called her a liar. “Who’s the guy?”
“I believe introductions have been made.”
He stepped closer and she stepped back. “Don’t play games with me. Who is he?”
“A friend,” she quickly relented.
“What kind of friend?”
“Lucian, are we really going to do this?”
“Oh, we’re doing this,” he growled, stepping closer again and causing her to take another retreating
pace back. She glanced around the garden. It appeared they were alone.
“I think we should go back inside.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s some dress you’re wearing.”
“I . . . I misunderstood the formality of the evening.”
“A slight breeze and your nipples will show.”
She uncomfortably crossed her arms over her chest. Damn him. His finger trailed over her bare
shoulder, and she shivered.
“You’ve had too much to drink and they haven’t served dinner yet.”
“I’m fine.”
He stepped closer again and she found it impossible to step back. “Why are you here?” he
whispered, his fingers gently tugging her arms away.
Her hands tingled and she insisted it was a result of the champagne. The tip of his index finger
trailed over the slight swell of her breast, sweeping beneath the billowy fabric and coming
dangerously close to her bare nipple.
Unwanted company interrupted the moment. “Lucian?” He stilled and she sucked in a breath.
Slowly he lowered his hand and turned.
Nicole Nottingham stood at the door they’d exited, her long arms crossed over her perfect chest as
though she had a chill. Scout stepped back. The woman’s face was questioning. Lucian paced back and
Scout nearly cried at what the act implied.
Lucian was with Nicole. She was his date and it was inappropriate for them to be out there in the
garden alone.
He turned and Nicole walked with the grace of a floating angel to his side. Scout hated her for being
so perfect. She glanced at Lucian then to Scout questioningly. “Nicole Nottingham, this is Evelyn
Keats.”
The sting at having her name second in the introduction burned through her. She extended her hand
and Nottingham did the same, turning her palm downward as though she expected her to kiss it. The
shake was a mere gripping of fingers that carried much more class on the other woman’s end.
“A pleasure,” she said slowly then turned to Lucian. “Dinner is about to be served, darling. We
should go inside.”
Darling? Scout was going to be sick.
“I’ll be in in a minute.”
The woman’s delicate smile twitched as though she didn’t want to leave them alone out there, but
she retreated anyway. Once she was gone, Lucian turned on her. “Stop drinking. You’ve had enough.”
“You’re not my father.”
His jaw ticked. “No, I certainly am not. Come, I’ll walk you inside.”
Was that it then? Was he really okay with her presence? He took her arm, this time without the
force he’d used to get her out there. Her world was spinning and she was again thirsty.
The volume of the room was stifling. Her steps slowed as her pace was unsteady. Lucian turned and
frowned at her. “Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?”
She tugged her arm out of his grip. “I’m fine.” She was on the verge of tears. Why had she come
here?
He glowered. “I’m calling Dugan to take you home.”
“Lucian!” she snapped. “I am not a child. I have as much right to be here as anyone.”
Easing close he hissed, “You’re drunk and your body’s about to fall out of that scrap you’re passing
off as a dress. I’ll be damned if you take another sip of alcohol and have that boy putting his paws all over you as he helps you out the door. Who the hell is he anyway?”