“I—”
“Consider…The words of that gossiping pair distressed you and yet you know them to be false. Your father has no need to buy you either a husband or a lover.” He accentuated his words with a small squeeze of her shoulder. “You are lovely and gentle, a woman any man would be lucky to claim.”
Now she’d forced him to fabrication to get out of the sticky situation. She made herself smile. “Thank you.” She said.
The stunning angles of his face relaxed in relief and he returned the smile.
Good. If she could convince him she was fine, he would let her leave and she could find someplace to lick her wounds in private.
No one else would notice if she disappeared from the party. Well, perhaps Edward, her colleague from the women’s shelter would notice. Only she had left him thoroughly engrossed in a debate over archeological method with one of her father’s colleagues and doubted he would surface before the party ended.
She stepped back from Dash’s touch, as much out of self-preservation as her need to get away completely. His proximity affected her to a frightening degree.
“I’m sure there are other guests you would like to talk to.” Again the small polite smile. “If you’re anything like my dad, you see every social occasion as an opportunity to advance your business interests. Most of the guests are his business contacts.”
“You are a poor prevaricator, Tess.” He stepped toward her, invading her space with his presence and the scent of his expensive cologne. She wondered if he had it mixed especially for him because she’d never smelled anything as wonderful on another man.
“P-prevaricator?” she asked, stumbling over the word because he was so close.
“It means one who deviates from the truth.” He explained. His mouth firmed with grim resolve that warned her she would not get away so easily. “Rather than discuss business with men I can see any day of the week, I would prefer you to show me to the buffet table. I came late and did not eat dinner tonight.”
She’d already known he had come late. Actually, she had thought he was not coming at all. The first she had known of his arrival had been the debacle by the banana tree. “Then, by all means, allow me to show you to the food table.” She said
It was her duty as hostess, after all.
She turned to lead the way and almost stopped in shock as she felt his hand rest lightly against her waist. By the time they reached the buffet, her emotions and heart rate were both chaotic.
“The food,” she croaked out and waved her hand toward the table.
“Will you sit with me while I eat? I prefer not to do so alone.” Dash said.
What choice had she? To refuse would be churlish. “Yes, of course.” She replied.
She stifled a sigh. She had thought he would let her escape once they arrived in the reception room of the Patchett mansion, but she’d been wrong. The only thing that equaled revenge was guilt.
She wondered how much penance Dash’s guilt would require before he would feel comfortable relegating her to the background once more.
Usually, she would be rejoicing at the opportunity to spend time in his company. He had fascinated her since their first meeting three years ago. She had seen him two or three times a year since as he and her father had many business interests in common but they never spoke to each other.
Even now, she found being the focus of his attention a heady experience, no matter that compassion and guilt were the reasons for it.
She waited until he had filled a plate and then led him to one of the many small duet tables surrounding the room. There were larger tables where someone else would undoubtedly join them, but selfishly she thought that if these few moments were all she would have of him, she wanted them private.
“Are you still working as a bookkeeper at the women’s shelter?” he asked.
Surprised he had remembered since she had told him that three years ago at the party held for her, she said, “Yes. We’re opening another facility in a few weeks.”
He asked her about it and then spent the next twenty minutes listening to her talk about the women’s shelter and the work they were doing. They catered to victims of domestic violence, but did a great deal for single mothers down on their luck as well. Tess loved her job and could talk about the shelter for hours.
“I suppose they can always use donations?” Dash asked.
So, that was how he planned to finish mitigating his guilt for making her cry.
Not that it was really his fault. He could not be blamed for her lack of urbanity, but she wouldn’t refuse him regardless.
He had plenty of money to donate to such a worthy cause. He was so rich.
“Yes. They bought the furniture for the upstairs with my fur coat, but there’s still the downstairs to furnish.”She replied.
He smiled and her insides did that imitation of melting chocolate they always did when those sensual lips curved in humor.
“So, you sold the mink, hmm?” he asked
“Oh no. That wouldn’t be right. It was a gift after all. I gave it to the shelter.”
She winked and then felt herself blushing at her own temerity. “They sold it.” She said.
“You’ve got a streak of minx in you I think.”
“Perhaps, Mr Black. Perhaps.”
“If you want me to call you Tess, then you should probably call me Dash too.”he said.
Tess smiled and nodded. “Alright.. Dash” she said.
“Do you have contact information for the shelter?” he asked.
“Naturally.”
“I should like to give it to my P.A., and instruct that a donation large enough to furnish several rooms is made on my behalf.”
“I’ve got a business card upstairs in my room, if you’ll wait a moment while I get it?” she said. What she would never do on her own behalf, she did for the shelter with total equanimity.
“I will wait.” Dash said.