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He watched her, moving swiftly through the packed ballroom. Like a shark. A gorgeous shark.
“You’re very smooth, you know,” he said.
“Don’t mock me, Ryder.”
“I’m not.” And he wasn’t either. Jesus, what did she think of him? He was reckless, sure. But he wasn’t a jerk. At least not to anyone who hadn’t asked for it.
She slowed to a stop, glanced down at her feet, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s just this isn’t so easy, doing this alone.”
“Why are you alone?” he asked before he could stop himself. Wrong thing to say.
She looked up at him, visibly wounded. Maybe he was a jerk.
“Forget my stupid brother,” he added. “I just mean where’s your date for this shindig? Surely you have one? I hope he’s not going to jump out from behind the refreshment table and, I don’t know, challenge me to a duel or something.”
She laughed at that. Much better. “What sort of man do you think I date, Ryder?”
The first response that popped into his head was The sort that doesn’t deserve you, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. He was trying to figure out exactly what to say when she spoke again.
“My date’s not coming. He had to cancel.”
See? Doesn’t deserve her. “Well then, he’s a fool.”
“He’s a very busy, important businessman who sometimes has to sacrifice personal pleasure for professional responsibilities. I admire that.” He was sure she did. From what he could tell, Vicky had been committed to her work beyond all else since she emerged from college a fully formed businesswoman nine years ago. He admired that. But he also thought it was a shame.
“Vic, you know, it’s okay to have fun just for the sake of fun sometimes.”
“You mean like bringing a selection of scantily clad groupies to a high-profile charity event, just to see what happens?”
Busted.
Ryder experienced the odd sensation of half enjoying someone like Vicky calling him on his bullshit and half hating it. He definitely wasn’t going to let her get the last word, though.
“You know, princ—”
“Ivy!!”
* * *
Ryder was not without his charms—he was incorrigible, but not without his charms. Nevertheless, Vicky was not about to let him start lecturing her about who and how to date.
Luckily, she had spotted Ivy Steadman and Alec Ames. Ivy was the woman responsible for all the PR around the Pink Heart Ball every year—a formidable job. Alec, her boyfriend, had achieved fame and fortune as a wind-power boy wonder. They were also an adorable couple and good friends of hers. Was it wrong that she was using them as a diversion? She hoped not.
“Ivy, the committee did an amazing job this year! Far and away the most elegant Pink Heart Ball in memory. And that’s saying something!”
The pretty auburn-haired woman grinned, leaning in to exchange air kisses with Vicky. “We considered it our duty after the fiasco that happened last year—Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean . . .”
Ivy had obviously just remembered that Valentine’s last year had been the day Noah had freaked out on Vicky when she tried to discuss marriage, fled the city, and ended up meeting the woman he was now madly in love with.
“It’s okay, Ivy, I know it’s not what you meant.”
The poor woman was still bright pink. Alec put his arm around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. “For someone whose whole job is about image and presentation, you do have a way of putting your foot in your mouth.”
Ivy gasped with feign shock and swatted him hard enough that he pulled back to rub his arm. But they were smiling at each other.
Yep. Adorable.
Vicky didn’t begrudge anyone happiness (including Noah, it should be noted). But nights like this did make it hard not to be jealous.
