son doesn’t speak to him and blah blah blah. So what do you think?” I look at her. “Is he actually sorry, or is he just trying to get past my defenses? I trust your judgement.”
“You do?” Her genuine smile tugs at my heart. I want to earn more of those.
“I know you’ve got my back, whether I deserve it or not. Uncle Bill, I’m not so sure about.”
Her smooth forehead creases in a tiny frown. “Okay. Keep in mind, he didn’t give me the best first impression. And I know he’s family, and I’m trying to respect that.”
“No, don’t worry about that. There are larger issues at stake here. As CFO, he holds a very important position in our store. It would be helpful for me to get an outsider’s perspective.”
She shakes her head. “After his quote-unquote attempt to make amends, I trust him even less. When he says ‘I’m sorry if I offended you…’ that’s one of those ‘sorry not sorry’ apologies. They’re the worst kind of apologies. It takes no responsibility for the person’s actions. It’s manipulative. Tries to make you feel as if you were too sensitive and you should feel bad that he made you feel bad.”
Manipulative. Dodging responsibility. Dumping the blame on someone else. She’s summed my uncle up perfectly.
“You’re right.” I shake my head in rueful acknowledgement. “I don’t know why I even thought he was being sincere. We’re at war over our future, and this is just him trying to tunnel through my defenses.”
The guests in the garden are starting to file inside. Dinner will be starting soon.
I grimace apologetically. “How are you holding up on the world’s worst date?”
“I’ve been smiling so long I can’t feel my face.” She puts her hands on her cheeks and does a smile-grimace. “No, seriously, I can’t stop smiling. I think I’m having some kind of seizure.”
She’s so close to me that I can smell her perfume. I slide a finger under her chin and nibble on her lower lip. “Can you feel this?” I murmur.
She lets out a low, throaty moan of pleasure and stands on her tiptoes. I kiss her hungrily, my tongue sliding inside the warm, silken cave of her mouth, leading her tongue in an intimate duet.
She tastes of champagne and feels like velvet. Heat rushes through my veins, and I slide one arm around her waist and pull her up against me. I’m greedy for the feel of her after too long apart. Time slows, and I hear people walking past us, the buzz of conversation, a trill of laughter, and I don’t care.
Finally I pull away and look down into her eyes.
“Oh,” she says in a tone of wonder, her eyes shining. She puts her hand on her cheek. “My face is unfrozen now, and so is the rest of me.”
“Duly noted.” I clear my throat and shake my head, trying to clear it. “All better, then? You’re made of sterner stuff than I thought.”
“Me? Oh, no. I’m actually a wilting flower. I’ll prove it.” She winks at me, then grabs me by the hand and pulls me along as she trots back inside. We spot Earl, who’s heading towards the banquet room. “Mr. Dempsey! I wanted to say our goodbyes. I am so sorry. I have a migraine and it’s absolutely killing me.” She drops my hand and grimaces, rubbing at her temples. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to head home.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, dear. You go home and rest up.” He pats me on the arm. “Thanks for coming tonight, Blake. It’s always good to see you.”
“You too. I’ll call you next week. I have some things I want to run by you.”
Stricken, I hurry her through the club, out the front door, and down the front steps. She’s grimacing in pain the whole way, rubbing at her temples. I spot my driver and wave him over.
“You should have said something,” I tell her as we climb into the back seat. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a migraine?” I pull the door shut. “Head home, Joseph!”
Her pained look vanishes, replaced by a mischievous grin. “Because I don’t. What I do have is the ability to get us out of an excruciatingly dull evening.”
I bark out a pleased, surprised laugh. “Ha! Well done, you. Hmm. Now I have four unscheduled hours before I make a call to Jakarta, then go to bed.”