“Tell that to Natalie and Dade.” Her cousin waved in the direction her sister had departed.
Melody threw Lace a look of sympathy and took Zoey by the arm. “Come with me, cousin, there’s someone I want to introduce you to.”
“A cute guy?”
“We’ll see about that.” Melody guided her away, leaving Lace feeling like she’d just gotten caught in a tornado’s updraft.
Before Lace had a chance to sneak off for a little peace and quiet, Carol Ann swooped down on her. “You weren’t thinking of running off, were you?”
“Actually—”
“Because as the director of the botanical gardens it’s your duty to come meet the sponsors and distinguished guests.”
“Everyone is here to see Pierce. No one cares about me.”
“Honey, you’re the heart and soul of this fund-raiser. Pierce is the flash, but you’re the substance.”
“No, that would be Melody. She deserves all the credit for this,” Lace said.
Carol Ann pinched Lace’s cheek. “Stop underestimating yourself. Without you, there are no gardens. Now come on.”
Mignon, looking impeccable in a vampishly cardinal, sequined dress, pressed a glass of red wine into Lace’s hand. “Fortification.”
For the next half hour she smiled, sipped wine, shook hands, made small talk, and watched Pierce do the same on the opposite side of the pavilion. He must have been telling football stories because he kept making throwing motions with his right arm. Her heart twisted. It must be so hard for him to put on a happy face knowing that he’d gotten dropped. So far, the Cowboys hadn’t announced it yet, so for now, no one here knew his secret except her.
Once, their eyes met through a break in the crowd of people. He smiled and winked and she couldn’t help feeling desperately special. Dangerous. It was a dangerous feeling and yet she couldn’t stop it from lodging deep inside the center of her chest.
At one point, Melody returned.
“Get Zoey squared away?” Lace asked.
“I found her someone to flirt with.”
Lace shifted her weight. “Did we get enough sponsors to cover the cost of this shindig?”
Melody grimaced. “Not quite.”
“How much are the expenses going to cut into the take?”
Her cousin blew out her breath. “We’ll probably get to keep six hundred of the thousand dollars a plate.”
“So we’re still not going to have enough to reopen the nonessential city services.”
“All is not lost. I’ve been talking to people about endowments after the Trans-Pecos Historical Society asked about granting one to the gardens. I’m also looking into state grants. We’ll get there.”
Lace met her cousin’s eyes. “But when?”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
“I know you are. I deeply appreciate all you’re doing for me and Cupid.”
Melody tucked a blond curl around her ear. “Hey, it’s my hometown too.”
“Since when have you claimed Cupid? You were always so anxious to get out of here.”
Melody gazed off in the distance, a contemplative expression on her face. “When you turned down that job offer from the Smithsonian.” She shook her head. “I was so shocked. But lately …”
“What?” Lace prodded when her cousin trailed off.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Sometimes when you get your dream, you realize it’s not what you thought it would be.”
The skin on the nape of her neck wriggled. She looked for Pierce, found him posing for more photographs. A jittery sensation lodged in the pit of her stomach. “Is something going on, Melody?”
“No, no.” Melody forced a smile. “I guess being back home has made me sentimental. Look, there’s Guy Grover.” Guy ran the biggest car dealership in Cupid. “Let’s go talk to him about giving an endowment.”
After the welcome reception, the guests took their seats in the rows of folding chairs set up before the stage and the ceremony began. There were speeches and toasts. Melody got up to thank the sponsors for their support. Pierce was honored in a big way. There were jokes and gridiron stories. And when he took the podium to talk about the importance of the botanical gardens, the library, and the after-school programs, the crowd hung on his every word. The man could command an audience. No question about it.
When dinner service began as the sun was setting over the winery, and the guests wandered from the row seating to the outdoor tables, they finally made their way back to each other.
“Did you find our table?” Pierce asked.
“I didn’t get a chance. I was too busy listening to your speech. You were mesmerizing.”
He blushed at her compliment. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“Don’t minimize your natural charisma. People are drawn to you.”
He shrugged that off, took her hand, and led her on a weaving path around the tables, looking for their names on the placards. He stopped at a table positioned at the far edge of the expansive lawn. “Here’s your name.”
“Good, we’re out of the way.” Lace sat down.
Pierce plunked down beside her.
“That’s not your name,” she said, pointing at the placard.
“Marvin Yates,” he read. “I’m sure Marvin won’t mind.”
“Pierce!” the mayor called out, and came over to clamp Pierce on his shoulder. “C’mon, son, you’re sitting up front at our table.”
“Let’s go,” Pierce said, reaching for Lace’s hand.
The mayor turned to her. “I’m sorry, Lace, but there’s not an extra space at our table for you. I’m sure you understand. Sponsors want to sit with the man of the hour.”
“If there’s no room for Lace,” Pierce said, “then there’s no room for me.”
The mayor looked flabbergasted, splayed a hand to the back of his head, and looked from Pierce to a table up front where his wife was waving at him. “I … um … well.”
“It’s okay, Pierce.” Lace motioned for him to go. “I’ll be fine right here with Marvin.”
Pierce refused to let go of her hand. “It’s a package deal, Mayor. If you want me, Lace comes along too.”
The mayor looked flustered. “Well, you see, some of the movers and shakers of Cupid are at our table and—”
“Lace moves and shakes with the best of them, don’t you, sweetheart.” Pierce lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles. A wave of tingly shivers swept up her spine. “So we will find a place for her at our table.”
Lace’s face flushed. It was really sweet and kind of him to insist that she be seated at his table.
“But most of all”—Pierce slung his arm around her shoulder and drew her closer—“Lace is my date.”
“Yes, of course, I’m so sorry for the mix-up,” the mayor sputtered. “This way.”
The service staff did their thing, shifting everyone at the table and bringing in an extra chair to sandwich Lace in between Pierce and a socialite from Houston who’d recently moved to Cupid. She looked put out to be sitting next to Lace and not the football star she’d expected to sit beside.
It was a tight squeeze and Lace had to keep her arms tucked at her side while eating to keep from bumping elbows with the socialite, who was left-handed. When the filet mignon was served, Lace tried to cut her meat without spreading her arms and ended up knocking her knife on the ground.
“Clumsy,” the woman muttered.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologized.
“It’s not your fault, dear,” the woman said, fumbling for a forced smile. “It’s difficult to navigate elegant social functions when you’re not accustomed to them.”
Lace’s stomach churned and she felt as if she were four inches tall. It wasn’t that she didn’t know proper etiquette. Carol Ann was her aunt, after all. No way you could get away with not knowing all that malarkey when you were kin to Carol Ann. Okay, she might be a little clumsy, yes, but that was because her mind was usually on plants
and not something silly like which fork did you use to stab a piece of meat. Tonight, however, she was nervous. She wasn’t much for crowds or fancy dinners or eating in a seven-hundred-dollar dress with her fantasy man in a tuxedo.
More than anything in the world, she wanted to flee, but she refused to give the socialite the satisfaction of running her off. She raised her chin, met the woman’s gaze. Normally, she didn’t toot the family tree horn, but if there was ever a time to do it, the time was now. “Do you know that I’m the great-granddaughter of Millie Greenwood Fant? The woman who started the whole letters to Cupid legend that spurred tourism to our town?”
“Um, no, I wasn’t aware of that.” The woman said it so coolly that butter wouldn’t have melted in her mouth. “But now that you mention it, I see the resemblance. Millie was a silver miner’s daughter, isn’t that right? A common girl who somehow managed to bewitch the richest man in town? Isn’t that how the story goes?”
The band started playing again and a few couples drifted out onto the dance floor. Pierce set his napkin over his plate and stood up. “If you’ll excuse us, I’m going to dance with my date.”
Lace startled. While she was uncomfortable sitting there with this crowd, she was about as graceful on the dance floor as a three-legged step stool. Dancing wasn’t the lesser of two evils.
He held out his hand.
She looked around the table. Everyone was staring at her. Left without a choice, she put her hand in his and got to her feet. “Way to put a woman on the spot,” she mumbled.
He led her toward the pavilion.
She resisted, literally digging her heels into the earth. “Do we really have to do this?”
“You don’t know how to accept rescue gracefully.”
“I’m not accustomed to having to be rescued.”
“That’s a shame.”
“What? That I’m independent? Don’t tell me you like those clinging women who don’t know how to do anything for themselves.”
“It’s a shame you don’t have any rescue fantasies.”
“Why would I want to be rescued?”
“Not in real life, but in your fantasies. I have rescue fantasies.”
“Sexual rescue fantasies?” she dared, her interest piqued.
“Are there any other kind?”
“So what’s your rescue fantasy?”
“I’m not telling until you share yours with me.”
“I don’t have rescue fantasies,” she insisted.
“Ah, and here I thought I was fulfilling your fantasy by headlining this fund-raiser so you could keep the botanical gardens open.”
Touché. She opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.
“It’s a good thing everyone isn’t like you,” he said.
“In what way?” she bristled.
“If everyone were like you, knights in shining armor would be put out of business.”
Lace hooted. “You? A knight in shining armor? You’ve been listening to your own press.”
“And you’re trying to start an argument just so you don’t have to dance.”
“That transparent?”
“Like a gossamer veil, baby.”
“Gossamer? Where you’d hear that word?”
“Mignon. She said this time of year the gossamer morning mist makes the grapes sweeter.”
“You had to ask her what ‘gossamer’ meant, didn’t you?”
“Yep.” He grinned unabashedly. “I’m a cowboy at heart, darling. We’re not known to have an expansive vocabulary. C’mon now.” He tugged her toward the dance floor where people were two-stepping to “Little Love Letters.”
She pulled away, shook her head vigorously, and held up both palms. “Seriously Pierce, I do not dance.”
“Can’t or don’t?”
“Which answer would get me out of this?”
“Neither.” He manacled her wrist between a thumb and index finger strong as a steel trap.
Every eye in the place was on them. Lace squirmed. She hated being the center of attention.
“You’re courting investors and sponsors. Let’s show them what you’re made of and give them a reason to put their money in you.”
“The garden is my résumé. I don’t need to add dancing.”
“Shows what you know about marketing.”
“And you’re Mr. Marketing Guru?”
“Sweetheart, I’m in professional football. It’s all about marketing and branding, and the more ways you can slant perception in your favor, the better. They’ll be buzzing with ‘She’s an ace botanist and she can dance.’ Why do you think Dancing with the Stars is so popular?”
“Because there is dancing with stars.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re the star, not me. It doesn’t matter who your dance partner is.”
“PhD in botany. Magna cum laude from Texas A&M, offered a job at the Smithsonian. That’s a star any way you slice it.”
“Who told you all that? Jay?”
“Nope.” His grin widened. “I’ve been asking around about you.”
Her chest tightened and her pulse quickened. Why was she feeling so panicky? It was just one dance. Granted, she wasn’t a great dancer, but she did know how. Her mother insisted that both her children learn ballroom dancing to be more “well-rounded.”
He didn’t give her a chance to offer further protest. Pierce placed a hand to her back and ushered her out onto the dance floor. The band was playing a cover of the Eli Young Band’s “Mystery in the Making.”
Well, if she had to dance, a slow song was the one to dance to. Couples moved closer together. A canopy of stars shone down, mingled with the glow of the twinkle lights, creating an intimate, romantic atmosphere.
Pierce leaned into her, pressed his mouth against her ear. “Is it really that bad?”
Flustered, she drew back as far as she could with his arm wrapped around her waist. The heat of his palm burned through the thin material of her dress. “Is what that bad?”
“Dancing with me.”
On the contrary, dancing with him was magnificent. Which was precisely the problem. She didn’t know where this thing was going, especially after he’d been cut from the Dallas Cowboys. Before that, she’d assumed it was going to be just a fling, but now? Dammit, now she had serious hope that this could grow into something meaningful, and hope was a scary thing. She’d spent years toughening her hide, getting strong so she could resist men like Pierce, and now here she was feeling as off balance as a top-heavy plant desperately in need of pruning, because she no longer wanted to resist. She wanted to dive headfirst into this thing and damn the consequences.
“You’re not a bad dancer,” she said grudgingly.
“Not bad? You sure know how to wound a guy. I was actually approached to be on Dancing with the Stars.”
“Seems right up your alley. Why didn’t you do it?”
“Actually, I had accepted and then—”
“Your leg got broken.”
“On television, in front of a hundred million viewers. It’s what happens when you’re on the bottom of a dog pile.”
“I’m having a hard time imagining you on the bottom of anything. You’ve always been top dog.” It dawned on her how humiliating that must have been for him as well as horribly painful. A lot more humiliating than having the entire high school laughing at you because they’d found out you were crushing on a guy you had no chance with.
“Mmm,” he said, a sultry light sparking in his eyes. “I concede your point, but there are times when being on the bottom is definitely worthwhile.”
“In the right kind of dog pile?” she asked, impishly lobbing the sexual innuendo back into his corner.
He chuckled. “Love that razor wit, Lace Bettingfield, but believe it or not, I’m not that enthusiastic about having more than one woman at a time in my bed.”
“Afraid of being shown up?” she deviled.
“No.” His arm tightened arou
nd her possessively. “Too selfish. I don’t like to share.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything at all. He was surprisingly light on his feet considering his size and the leg injury. She also noticed he’d been subtly drawing her closer until there was no longer a gap between their bodies. His cummerbund was pressed against her belly, his chest cozied up against her breasts, and the zipper of his slacks bulged against her thigh. There was no denying what was on his mind.
Sex.
If she was being honest it was on her mind too. Had been since that night in the hotel in San Antonio.
As if reading her thoughts, he asked huskily, “How long before we can get out of here?”
“Hey, I’m ready right now,” she said. “But you’re the one who knows how to navigate this hoity-toity stuff. You tell me. We certainly don’t want to disappoint the folks who shelled out a thousand dollars to hang out with you, and Melody says we’re short funds so I also have to curry more donations.”
“I guess that means we have to stay.”
“Yes.” She sighed, resigned. “But can we go sit back down?”
“In a minute,” he said. “After this.”
“After wha—”
His mouth crushed hers. Right there on the dance floor for everyone to see. There was no denying this now. They had over five hundred witnesses. A happy flame lit inside her. She’d been aching to kiss him all evening. She relaxed into the kiss, sank against him.
He cupped her face in his hands, deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping between the teeth she so readily parted.
The entire audience burst into applause and she realized they were clapping for her and Pierce. In that glorious moment, she was the belle of the ball.
Chapter 15
Dioecious: male and female reproductive structures on separate plants.
FINALLY, finally, the endless evening came to an end and they were back in his truck headed for Lace’s house. Pierce gripped the steering wheel tightly in an attempt to keep his hands from shaking. Excitement—as visceral as what he’d felt the day he’d stood in the stadium before the Super Bowl and heard the roar of the crowd chanting his name—filled his veins with a potent mixture of adrenaline and testosterone. He wanted her so badly he was practically panting.
Lori Wilde - [Cupid, Texas 02] Page 19
