Never A Dull Moment

by Donna McDonald

  Henna nodded. “Repeatedly… and with them.”

  Georgia gaze went in the direction Henna’s hand had waved. “With the three giggling blondes patting him in sympathy?”

  “They’re my step-sisters… I mean, former step-sisters… thank goodness.”

  “Good God,” Georgia said in exasperation, shaking her head. “Hollywood doesn’t even spare his own daughter. Somebody ought to kick his handsome ass for his insensitivity.”

  “Someone like you?” Henna asked, just to see what she’d say.

  “No. I’m too old to take his crap on,” Georgia said easily, having made that decision earlier in the week. “After tonight, my obligation to your father is over. Come Monday, he’ll just be an unpleasant memory to me.”

  “Oh,” Henna said, looking down to hide her happiness to hear it. “I hope none of that is my fault.”

  “Why would it be your fault? It’s his fault,” Georgia said firmly. “He invited me here to parade the old lady in front of the younger plastic dolls he’s crafted for himself. Not exactly very noble behavior, but it was exactly what I suspected he might do. He’s a spoiled little boy who’s far too used to getting his way with women.”

  “What does that make me then?” Henna blurted. “It was my idea to invite you.”

  Georgia sighed. “Well, that extremely disappoints me.”

  “What does that mean?” Henna demanded, her eyes going wide.

  Georgia laughed. “It means I was starting to like you, but now I will feel absolutely no guilt at all come Monday. Piece of advice though, girl. You better keep that chin up if you don’t want to find yourself on your back under that bozo ex of yours again. Jackasses like him will use every weakness he finds to get you there. Men like him would do that for the power rush as much as for the money.”

  Henna’s mouth dropped open when Georgia turned and walked away without a good-bye. Not that she could blame the woman for exiting the first chance she got. All she could blame Georgia Bates for was the minor regret she now felt that she might have messed up her father’s love life—a little at least.

  No. That couldn’t be right. She was saving her father more heartache. Georgia Bates was never going to fit into her father’s life—ever.

  “Henna! Don’t you look all grown up and charming. Where’s that handsome father of yours hiding? I’ve called him five times for lunch, but he can’t seem to pull himself away from his work. So dedicated…”

  She stared at the tall brunette and wished Georgia had stuck around to hear that particular speech. The eye roll alone would have been worth savoring.

  “Dad’s in the music room serving drinks. I’m sure he’d loved to see you. Please excuse me, but I really hate these parties,” Henna said, exiting every bit as rudely as Georgia had.

  Chapter Eight

  Brent felt her energy in the room before he saw her. His jaw dropped at the sophisticated woman smiling and weaving her way through the crowd to get to him. The purple top inside her jacket had slipped to reveal a healthy sliver of purple lace riding against a breast more beautiful than anything he’d ever created.

  People talking to him turned their heads to look at her too, no doubt taking in her determination to get to him and wondering about it. She lifted a hand and held up two fingers when she had to stop and let a couple hug hello in her path. Shrugging behind them, she shook her head.

  His laugh rumbled through his gut and out. God, what would it take to unnerve the woman?

  Looking neither left or right at the gawkers giving her—and him—a considering look, Georgia gently excused herself, moving past the huggers as she continued making her way.

  He rose from his perch on the arm of a chair to be standing when she reached him.

  “Hello Holl… uh, Brent,” Georgia said, barely catching herself.

  His smile eased away knowing she was still mad over whatever he’d done that he still hadn’t figured out. But he’d deal with that obstacle later. He had more important things to worry about at the moment. The sharks were getting restless around the new fish swimming in the pond.

  “Gentleman, I’d like you to meet my date for the evening. This lovely woman is Georgia Bates… and just so you know how things are… she’s already taken,” Brent said firmly.

  Amid the guffaws and laughter, his friends stood to make their introductions to her. Georgia smiled and nodded at each of them, batting her heavily decorated eyes at each man in turn. Brent wanted to growl every time he caught one of them peeking at the purple brassiere that kept making an appearance. The urge to drag Georgia somewhere so she could adjust her shirt was growing steadily.

  “Have you been watching Henna tonight?” Georgia asked, turning her attention to him.

  “No. She’s been greeting guests. I haven’t seen her for a while.”

  “Her ex is here and hitting on her. Henna keeps hanging her head when he comes around.”

  “She does?” Brent asked, looking around for his daughter. But all he saw was Justin huddled in a corner with two of his former stepdaughters hanging off his arm. They did that last year too. Henna’s divorce had been fresh them, as had the pain.

  He looked at Georgia. “I’ll keep an eye out for her. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  “How about water with lemon instead?” Georgia asked, having no intention of drinking with this crowd.

  “Caterers have that in the dining area.”

  “Okay. Which direction is that?” Georgia asked.

  “I’ll show you…”

  “No. No…”

  Georgia’s hand on his arm was strong, and felt remarkably… right. He looked down at where it rested on his sleeve. She’d painted her nails a bright purple with flecks of gold sprinkled on top. It was bold and yet completely fitting on her.

  Forgetting they had an audience, he lifted her hand and inspected the nails. “Pretty racy nail polish, Georgia.”

  “Take it up with my fashion advisor. I hear you’re practically BFFs,” Georgia said, yanking her hand away from him. “You stay here with your friends. I’m not as helpless as I look. I’ll find my own way to the water.”

  He caught her hand again before she could turn away from him completely. “It’s just a hallway over. Follow the travertine.”

  “The what?”

  “Earth toned tile in the hallway.”

  “Okay. Sure,” Georgia said, forcing a smile.

  Reluctant to let her go, Brent toyed with her hand, rubbing a thumb over her fingernails. He wondered if she wore nail polish often. He wondered if she knew how to tease with the polished edges of them. He wondered what her fingernails would feel like sliding along his…

  “Brent.”

  He blinked rapidly at hearing his name spoken so sternly. Georgia was glaring at him.

  “Dying of thirst here, Hollywood.”

  He let go automatically when she used her nickname for him, straightening as Georgia moved away.

  Georgia drew in a slightly unsteady breath and turned to the men now staring at her in shock. They’d probably never heard a woman raise her voice before. “It was very nice to meet you all. Brent and I are a little unused to each other. This is our first date. Please excuse our strange conversations with each other.”

  “First date?” one said.

  “Are you kidding me?” another demanded.

  Six male glares turned his way. Georgia’s pleased chuckle only made things worse.

  Surprising him, she reached out, grabbed his hand, and tugged him back to her. Reaching up, she kissed his cheek, and then made a big show of rubbing off the lipstick she’d deposited there. His jaw felt like a rock under her fingers. He couldn’t even swallow.

  “Sorry,” she said sweetly. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your guy friends. It probably won’t be the last time.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that promise,” Brent said, his voice gruff—his cool gone. He wanted to brand her with a hard kiss so the men around him knew she was complete
ly off limits. God, he was in so deep.

  “Be careful what you wish for, Hollywood,” Georgia said, letting go and slipping away to a chorus of male chuckles.

  Brent watched her go and didn’t breathe out until she turned into the hallway.

  “Hollywood?” one friend said.

  “Must be because he’s so pretty,” another commented.

  Men he’d known for three decades dissolved into laughter at his expense. He hadn’t even paid attention to who was speaking.

  Brent turned his gaze to take them all in. “Hands off, guys. She’s mine,” he said sternly, the words ringing clear, rising above the laughter.

  Twelve hands raised in the air in surrender, but their unanimous agreement just seemed to make the hyenas laugh that much harder. They were all single like him… all tired of looking. Most were his age and he’d been on the verge of telling them about Mariah’s business when Georgia had appeared.

  “Good luck keeping that one happy, Brentwood. I think she’s got your number.”

  “I know,” Brent said quietly. “And you don’t know the half of it.”

  Chapter Nine

  There were five tables packed to the brim with drinks and food. Even Trudy would have been impressed. Georgia wandered over to a table filled with urns of ice water and grabbed a glass. Scooping ice from one of a half dozen silver buckets, she topped it off with water and two slices of lemon.

  Happily on her way to quenching her thirst, Gerogia saw Henna at one of the tables filling a plate with food. Jackass Justin and two of the cheating step-sisters filed into the room and moved beside her. Henna tensed at their presence, but Georgia saw her spine straighten at least. She was so concerned about Henna’s drama that she almost ran into a tall, well dressed young man who was eyeing Henna’s backside with interest. He was about her height so she traced his line of vision before clearing her throat.

  “Hello,” she said, grinning at his flushed face after startling him. “Do you know Henna? I’m being nosy because I’m dating her father. I secretly like the girl.”

  He swallowed hard, nodded, and then shrugged. “I like Henna too. If you’re dating Brent, I’m sure the family drama is no secret to you. I was unfortunately married to one of her step-sisters. I divorced my cheating wife for the same reason Henna divorced her cheating husband. Though I see she’s still not over Justin yet.”

  “Don’t believe that drooping head of hers. Henna just lacks confidence. It takes women quite a while to get over their husband cheating on them. My daughter recently went through it herself.”

  The man’s gaze cleared as he turned to her. “I hope you’re right. Henna’s a good person.”

  “Oh, I’m right,” Georgia said, needing to believe it as much as this man obviously did. She held out a hand. “Georgia Bates, sassy Cinderella and terrible first date. I’m avoiding Prince Charming. Can I hide out a while with you?”

  The guy laughed at her comments and shook her hand. “How could I say no to a genuine damsel in distress? I am Vassal Milano. And I can’t believe Brent would ask you here for your first date. Whatever was he thinking?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that all night,” Georgia said. “So your name is Vassal? What kind of parent names their child that?”

  The guy’s blue eyes crinkled. She liked him immensely for having a real sense of humor. Henna never once looked his way, even when Vassal’s charming voice carried across the room. How could you ignore a man with such a sexy voice? Young people were so foolish.

  “My father’s a French professor. At least my name’s pronounceable. My siblings weren’t quite so lucky.”

  “Do you speak French?” Georgia asked.

  “Not a word,” Vassal admitted.

  “Well, I named my daughter after a song. And they call the wind…”

  “Mariah,” he finished, laughing as she nodded. “Pretty name.”

  “Thank you. I hope she thinks so. After hearing your story, I suddenly feel the need to ask.”

  His chuckling ended when Henna suddenly appeared at her elbow.

  “In case you’re unclear on how these events work, the food is free, Georgia.”

  “Henna Colombo,” Vassal said sternly, frowning at her. “Why are you being so rude to a guest?”

  Georgia grinned and winked at him. “Oh, don’t mind us, Vassal. Henna and I swap insults for the hell of it. We find it entertaining.”

  Henna’s indignant huff made her chuckle. To prove their friendliness, Georgia reached over and plucked the first semi-edible-looking thing she saw on Henna’s plate and popped it into her mouth. Chewing her stolen bite, she made a face. Swallowing was nearly impossible.

  “Oh God… duck pate. Yuk, yuk, yuk…” she said around the food. She shook her hand as she forced the remainder down her throat. “Well, that was totally gross.”

  “Serves you right for stealing,” Henna said, smirking at her.

  Vassal picked up Georgia’s water glass from the side table behind them and handed it to her.

  “Thank you, Vassal,” Georgia said, wincing as she drank deeply. She burst out laughing when Henna rolled her eyes.

  “Thank you, Vassal,” Henna mocked.

  She smacked the girl on the arm and nearly unbalanced her. Henna latched onto her still full plate and glared back.

  Vassal cleared his throat. “Before you two become this evening’s floorshow, perhaps we could talk about something that won’t incite a fistfight?”

  Georgia laughed again and gave him a big smile. “Vassal, I think Henna needs a drink. Would you mind getting her a glass of water?”

  Vassal’s gaze went back and forth between them, but eventually his politeness won out.

  “Of course,” he said, setting his plate behind him on the table.

  “Don’t worry, Vassal. I’ll guard your food, just in case Henna was lying about it being free,” Georgia teased, laughing at the in-drawn hiss of annoyance Henna made.

  After Vassal disappeared, Georgia leaned down and whispered in Henna’s ear. “I caught Vassal staring at your butt. He’s also worried about your head drooping thing. Maybe you need to pay a little attention to someone like him instead of your jerk of an ex.”

  When she straightened again, Georgia tucked a piece of hair behind Henna’s ear. The girl stared at her speechless.

  “Why are you doing this? Why do you care about me… or about what Vassal is feeling?” Henna asked.

  “What?” Georgia asked. “You mean, why am I helping you? I only have one night to do so. You’re man-blind from your hurt, and anyone with eyes can see Justin is not good enough for you. I bet you haven’t let any other man into your bed since your divorce. You have that look about you.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s your business. Maybe Vassal isn’t the one, but at least the guy has a sense of humor. Those are usually the best ones between the sheets.”

  “Why should I listen to you? I thought it was your daughter who gave out dating advice.”

  “My degree is from the school of hard knocks and near forty years of marriage. Why do you keep stopping to talk to me?”

  “Because Jackass Justin is afraid of you. It’s a matter of convenience.”

  Georgia chuckled over Henna’s rationalization, feeling proud and appalled at the same time. “You’re an emotional coward just like your father. He set me up tonight with his ex-wives in attendance and doesn’t have the balls to admit it.”

  Henna sighed heavily. “I told you… that’s my fault… not Dad’s.”

  “He’s an adult, Henna. He knew all his ex-wives were coming. He blackmailed me into being here. Your father is barely keeping his side of our bargain. I’m in full regalia for his high society gala because I promised to make a good showing.”

  “Dad acts weird around you. I don’t think that’s all on him,” Henna said, glaring.

  Georgia nodded as she laughed. “Since I deserve that one, I’ll own it, but here’s the bo
ttom line. You’re the only Cinderella here tonight who can salvage this horrible evening and do something actually good with it. I suggest you give it some thought. Your opinion of Vassal would be a good place to begin. I think he likes you more than he’s brave enough to show.”

  Henna let a heavy breath escape. “You don’t understand, Georgia. This is my past as well as Dad’s. Hell, it’s Vassal’s past too. What can I possibly do to make this party less sucktastic? Dad does these all the time and they’re always like this.”

  “Well, for starters, stop running from everyone, but especially stop running from Jackass Justin. Hold your ground and tell the bastard to leave you the hell alone. Over means over. He’s got those bimbette juniors hanging all over him anyway. Ignore the man until he stops playing his games.”

  Stepping aside, Georgia watched Vassal hold out the glass of water to a frustrated Henna. Glaring, the girl closed her fingers around it… and over his. Vassal’s smile grew as Henna slowly let him slide his fingers out from under hers.

  “Thank you, Vassal,” Henna said finally, clearing her throat when her voice cracked. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m not my best self tonight.”

  “Neither am I,” he said, waving off the apologies. “I hate your Dad’s big parties. I only come to them to see you.”

  “To see me?” Henna said, totally shocked.

  Vassal nodded. “Yes. You’re the only good person I ever met in this house beside your father. I don’t know how Brent ever put up with the others. It must have been a phase because his taste in women has dramatically improved.” He looked at Georgia. “That’s a compliment.”

  “I thank you for it,” Georgia replied with a smile.

  “Dad hasn’t been himself in a long while either,” Henna said, suddenly pondering the stark truth of her statement. Her father hadn’t been the same man since her mother died. She’d often thought the laughing man she remembered was no more than a childish memory of hers.

  Georgia decided that was her cue to exit. “Sorry to leave such pleasant company—Henna excepted—but I should probably mingle before the reigning Prince of this ball decides to track me down and make me try on shoes or do something else equally stupid. I will see you two later. Wish me luck.”