She would have happily thrown rocks at her if it would have spared Clark.
* * *
MUSIC POURED OUT into the cold night air. They were playing a Latin number. She imagined all the town’s excellent dancers, including Matt Caldwell and Cash Grier, were out on the dance floor dazzling the spectators. She was looking forward to watching them.
She gave her ticket at the door, tugged the fox fur closer and moved into the huge room where a live band was playing.
“I thought you’d be along when I heard Clark mention that he bought tickets,” a deep, amused voice said behind her.
She turned and looked up into Boone Sinclair’s dark, soft eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
KEELY COULDN’T MANAGE a single word. Boone caught her hand and tugged her into the community center with him.
“Should I ask where Clark is?”
She felt as if her feet weren’t quite on the floor. “No need. I didn’t see your car.”
“That’s because I didn’t drive it here. I brought one of the trucks and parked it out back. I doubt Clark even noticed.”
“He didn’t.” She looked around. “Is Winnie here?”
He hesitated. “No.”
She stopped walking so that he had to stop, too.
He looked down at her appreciably, his dark eyes lingering on the way the emerald-green dress fit her slender, pretty body. “Green suits you,” he mused.
“Winnie didn’t come…?” she prompted.
“Kilraven said he wasn’t coming,” he replied. “She said it was useless to let men she didn’t even like parade her around the dance floor.”
She cocked her head and looked up at him. “Maybe she has a point.”
He lifted an eyebrow and looked wicked. “Maybe she does.”
She felt suddenly uneasy. She looked around again, for Misty this time.
“She’s not here.”
Flushed, she looked back up into his amused eyes.
“I came alone,” he told her. “I mentioned that I wasn’t buying diamonds for a casual date and she took offense.”
“I heard.”
“Oh? Was Clark impressed?”
“Yes. But don’t count on it lasting any length of time,” she added. “Once he’s alone with her, he’ll forget everything he said.”
“No doubt.” He pursed his lips. “Do you dance, Miss Welsh?”
Her heart skipped at the way he said it. He had no date, and he’d come anyway. And he was looking at her as if he could eat her. That was thrilling, even if she couldn’t hope for anything more.
“I do,” she replied. She sounded breathless.
He took the fox stole and her purse and laid them on a table next to where Cag Hart and his wife, Tess, were sitting. “Do you mind watching them?” he asked.
Tess grinned. “Not if I get to try on that stole.”
“Help yourself,” Keely invited with a big grin.
Tess wound it around her neck and struck a pose. She batted her eyelids at her husband. Her blue eyes twinkled in their frame of red hair.
“I’m not buying you a dead fox,” Cag informed her haughtily.
Keely recalled that Cag had watched the “pig” movie and gave up eating pork. She wondered if he’d recently seen any other animated animal films.
Tess looked up and grinned. “There was this foxhound movie…”
“Will you stop?” Cag muttered, looking oddly flushed. “I like animals.”
Tess bent over and kissed him. “So do I. But this animal has probably been deceased for a number of years….”
He burst out laughing and kissed her back.
Boone tugged Keely toward the dance floor.
He slid one arm around her waist and pulled her closer, easing his fingers in between hers. She stumbled with nerves as he propelled her expertly into the slow rhythm, and he laughed, deep in his throat.
She felt like a fox, running for cover. Her heart was racing, her breath was stuck somewhere south of her windpipe. She barely noticed the music. She was too aware of Boone’s powerful body against hers, the scent of his breath, the smell of his cologne. He made her feel weak and shaky all over.
His hand spread against her back over the soft velvet. “I like this dress,” he murmured at her forehead.
“It’s very pretty,” she began.
“I like the way it feels,” he corrected.
She laughed nervously. “Oh.”
He nuzzled her cheek, so that she lifted her eyes to his. “Nineteen years old,” he said quietly, studying her. He looked guilty.
She frowned. “You know, age isn’t everything.”
“If you trot out that tired old line about it being the mileage,” he threatened softly.
“It’s true, though,” she replied.
He smoothed his fingers in between hers as they moved lazily to the music. “You’ve heard from your father, haven’t you?” he asked suddenly.