Her smile cracked. Standing five feet away, Jared knew the second her muscles tensed, leaving her frozen to that spot. His gaze snapped to Nick’s arm, watching as his host’s hold on Lucy drifted lower.
Oh fuck no.
He stepped forward, ready and willing to defend Cinderella. But Lucy moved too, shifting to the side. Their groping host followed. Jared checked his rushing desire to land a swift right hook. He couldn’t golf worth shit, but he knew how to box. Instead of landing a punch, he reached for Lucy’s hand and drew her away from the bastard grabbing her ass.
“Lucy and I can catch up later,” Jared snapped. “She’s my friend.”
“Friends?” Nick’s grin widened. “I’ll see about the cake.”
Jared drew Lucy closer. He refused to let Nick lay another hand on her. If the bastard tried . . . but Nick winked at Jared and then headed for the door.
“Asshole,” Jared muttered. Then he glanced down at Lucy. He was still holding her gloved hand. One step closer and her chest would be touching his. As it was, he had one helluva—fuck, he wouldn’t look down. He wouldn’t sink to Nick Morgan’s level, groping princesses at a kid’s party.
“Yes,” she murmured softly. “He is.”
He stared into her blue eyes and hoped he wouldn’t see tears. If Nick had made Lucy cry . . . shit, Jared would march out there and start throwing punches. With all those kids around, he’d probably need to drag Nick behind the bouncy castle first. But he’d show his host why boxing proved more useful than putting a damn ball into a hole.
“Don’t look at me like that, Jared. I’m fine.” She smiled, but her gaze remained fierce. She was pissed. No doubt about it. Still, he preferred an indignant Cinderella to a weepy one. “You don’t have to—”
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he cut in because he did need to stand up for her. There was no debate. If the Nick Morgans of the world put their hands on her, without invitation and while she was doing her job, he’d take them out, one by one.
“Like what?” Her eyebrows shot up, but her smile didn’t falter.
He leaned closer and whispered, “Me saving you from assholes.”
She let out a low laugh. The deep, husky sound drew him closer and left him wishing their audience—the other parents, guests, and even the kids—would disappear.
“You saved me?” she murmured.
“I told him you’re mine,” he said. “My friend.”
“Thanks, but you could tell that man we’re engaged, just had wild, tantric sex in his shower five minutes ago, and he’d still grab my butt. He has drunk dad hands.”
He felt the soft whisper against his cheek. The smell of vanilla snaked through his senses, leaving him wishing for a taste. But the sound of her voice . . .
“You lost me after wild shower sex,” he murmured. He spotted another one of his clients looking their way and offered a curt nod. He hoped his expression sent a loud and clear “stay away” message. “Did you say drunk dad hands?”
She shrugged. “It happens.” Then she pulled her gloved fingers free. “I need to get back to the party. Hope will want pictures with the cake. It’s an all princesses and fairies on deck moment.”
She stepped back, and he wanted to follow. Her scent, her touch, and her laugh—he wanted more.
“Lucy?” he called after her.
She paused by the door and cocked her head. Her gloved hand rested on the handle.
Leave me a glass slipper.
For what? A chance to run his hands over her ankles, up her toned calf? A tempting fantasy. But the costume didn’t intrigue him. Not like the woman wearing the tiara.
“Lucy, when this is over, you owe me another juice box.”
Chapter 5
When I get my hands on you Jared Mitchell . . .
Lucy’s imagination flooded her with images. Jared pulling her close . . . only this time he would release her gloved hand and place his palm in the small of her back. Jared’s gaze skimming the neckline of her dress . . . Jared leading her away from the party, commandeering a bedroom, a bathroom, a closet—anywhere he could kiss her, whispering all the dirty things he wanted to do to her in her ear.
She tripped over a rise in the pavement and fought to regain her balance before she landed on the sidewalk.