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“Ah, sure,” she said. His wife didn’t bat an eyelash, so she assumed Candi didn’t care.
When he took her to the dance floor, Brit saw another side to the wealthy businessman. Bill O’Donnell turned out to be a skillful dancer, leading her through the crowd with grace and confidence. She followed his footsteps, allowing him and the music to guide her—mostly because of her hunger and nerves. A couple times, he twirled her around, earning them some claps and catcalls from the guests.
“Your wife is lucky. You’re such a good dancer,” she said when the rhythm of the music slowed and he no longer spun her. “I’m sorry I’m such a beginner.”
“You’re lovely, my dear.” He smiled. “I’m glad you came… I have a proposal for you.”
“For me?” She frowned.
“Yes. I want you to report to me if my wife makes any moves on Damian.”
She stopped dancing. “I’m sorry, I can’t do such thing,” she said. Of course this had been too good to be true. A swanky party, a movie worthy dance performance… she touched her forehead. Her stomach growled. “Wait. Is this a hallucination?”
He nudged her elbow gently and kept moving close to her so they mocked a dance. Other couples swayed close by. “Hallucination? What are you talking about?”
I need to eat. “I’m sorry, I’m confused. Why would you ask me to report to you?”
“Because my wife is known for… flirting, especially when she’s mad at me.”
“I see. Why can’t you ask her yourself?”
“If she takes it to another level, then I’ll get the lawyers involved.”
“I apologize for my bluntness, but if she already flirts with other men, why don’t you just leave her now?” Before she cheats on you, if she hasn’t already. Brit’s own mother had been a victim of misleading optimism when she’d dated her father. The man constantly cheated on her, and at the end, at nine months pregnant, she’d finally decided she was better off alone. He’d never made any attempt to contact either of them, in all those years.
“Because if I go to the next one, that can happen again. See, call me a misogynist, but I like pretty women. Younger women, such a weakness. And I know some consider such attraction as a transaction, but I don’t invest to lose.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she said. Moisture evaporated from her throat. On one hand, he was honest about his superficiality. On another, his honesty made her want to shake him. Weren’t there amazing fifty-something women he could have married? Of course—she saw them every day. Maybe they don’t want him, an insecure, middle-aged man who uses his wealth to buy a trophy wife.
“If she has an affair with Damian and I can prove it, she’ll leave the marriage without a cent. It’s in our prenup agreement.”
She frowned. “Why me and not a detective?”
“Because I’d rather give you ten thousand dollars and not a middle-aged, fat man who may be susceptible to Candi’s charms himself.” He spoke evenly, and she wondered for a moment if that had happened in the past.
“Still.” She’d have to betray Damian if it came to it. Or would agreeing to spy on him be a betrayal on its own? After all, he was a good, kind man, a dedicated father. If he’d made the mistake of fooling around with Candi or another married woman, since when was it her business?
Bill leaned closer, lifting an eyebrow. “What do you say?”
* * *
“I still needto pay you a visit,” Candi said, once again leaning a bit too close for his taste. “You know, to see how I can improve.”
You can improve right now by getting away from me. Damian popped his knuckles. Diplomacy was paramount, but he’d done small talk for the past several minutes while Brit waltzed during the party with Bill. “You’re fine. I only deal with patients who really need a change. Don’t let any trend convince you otherwise,” he said casually.
She patted his arm. “Such a flatterer.”
His gaze swung back to the dance floor, searching for the woman who had his heartbeat racing from the minute he picked her up. Where was she? He squinted, trying to find her amongst dancers and waitstaff. If Bill dared put his hands on her, he’d kill the old man and send him to his demise a decade or two earlier.
Brit… his heart stilled. She marched in his direction, and never looked lovelier. The black dress hugged her curvy frame, causing his throat to thicken despite his recent sip of champagne. The V-neck showcased her breasts, and he doubted any sane man wouldn’t give anything to see them. Touch them. Lick them.
A frisson threaded down his body. When she neared him, he stared at her, contemplating the marvelous makeup job she’d done. He usually didn’t notice these things, but those wings she painted around her eyes enhanced the richness of her gaze. Brit’s beauty put every other woman in this party to shame. Hell, any other woman in Tulip.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” he replied. He turned to Candi to excuse himself, but she sashayed away and waved briefly as she bumped into a woman and greeted her. Phew. At least she’d known when to give up. She’d carried a conversation with him and left him confused about her interest in him as a man, or a surgeon. Either way, he’d steer clear from her. “I saw you cutting the rug.”
“Oh my gosh, you saw us?” She chuckled. “Bill tried to teach me a thing or two.”
