Page 19 of Brant
"You scared the-"
"Brant, look!" Without thinking, she gripped his thigh and sent his blood pressure soaring. "Isn't that too precious? I've never been in this part of town before. Oh, look at the lights! There must be thousands of them, and the decorations are so unique."
He obliged her by stopping at the curb so she could better see the dazzling display. He watched in amusement as she took out her phone, opened her door, and started snapping photos.
"Ready?"
"Thanks."
"No problem."
Even though they had not meant to, they inadvertently created a sensation as soon as they stepped into the crowded ballroom of the Plaza Hotel. The noise level decreased drastically as people turned to stare at the couple who had just walked in. Indigo had surrendered her coat at the entrance, causing eyes to be drawn to her lush curves outlined in the dress.
Brant felt the shimmer of irritation slicing through him as half of the male eyes in the room zeroed in on her bosom. He was sorely tempted to shout to them to keep their bloody eyes on their own companions.
Unconsciously, his arm tightened on the hand she had slid through his arm, a proprietary move that was noticed by all who were watching. His expression clearly warned them to stay the hell away. He strode over to the group of friends, including his mother, and made the introductions.
"I say, O'Keefe." A jolly-looking man with heavy jowls took Indigo's hand and brought it to his lips for a lavish kiss. "Where on earth have you been hiding this jewel?"
"I would ask you politely to unhand my wife, Jerrald, before I break your fingers," Brant told him mildly.
"Your wife?" Jerrald peered at him, his jaw dropping. "You finally tied the knot. Well!" He swung his gaze to take in Indigo, eyes dropping to her bosom. "I can see why you scooped her up. If I had seen her first-"
"Oh, give it over, you old coot," another man interrupted with a guffaw. "The young lady is too much woman for you." He stepped forward, light blue eyes twinkling. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear. Name is Frank Mitchell."
She was introduced to the others and, within minutes, was whisked from one group to the next, her husband keeping a possessive arm around her waist. When he asked her to dance, she was so giddy with excitement that it took everything in her to appear casual.
"You've made quite an impression," he murmured as he guided her around the crowded dance floor.
"I think it's the dress." She lifted laughing mahogany eyes to his and had his heart doing a slow dive. It was a mistake to have her so close. Her perfume, the feel of her lush curves, and her breasts pressed up against his chest were doing things to his insides. Perhaps it was the fact that he had been without a woman for a long time. Several months was a long stretch for him.
"It's not just the dress," he admitted a little gruffly. "You happen to be a beautiful woman."
Their eyes met and held, and for a few pulsing minutes, they were oblivious to the other couples whirling around them. Time seemed to stand still, and their awareness of each other was so sharp, so intense, that it held them enthralled. His eyes drifted to her lips and had Indigo holding her breath as she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Just then, someone jostled them, breaking the spell, and the music ended. Shaking his head as if to dispel the intimacy, Brant led her off the dance floor and left her in the company of some of the other wives.
For the remainder of the evening, he avoided her and did not ask her to dance again. Pretending that her heart was not sinking in despair, Indigo listened, or tried to listen, attentively to the wives she had been introduced to, including Monique Romano, who gushed over how the dress fit her as if it had been made exclusively for her. She was embraced and welcomed by Leesa, Kelly, and a few others, including Althea and Stacey.
The women made her feel at home, and immediately, invitations to functions were issued. She participated in the conversation and even laughed at the jokes, but her eyes were on her husband. The twisted feeling inside her chest, she acknowledged as jealousy when she saw him dancing with several women, all of them beautiful and slender.
To hell with him! she decided after standing there, feeling the hopelessness washing through her body. They had shared a damn moment; she was sure of it. And if he refused to acknowledge that they had shared a moment, then she would ignore it as well and pretend it didn't happen. And two could play the game. Pasting a dazzling smile on her lips, she finally accepted the next guy's invitation to go on the dance floor.
Brant could not account for the fact that when he saw Reginald Lowe dancing with her, his arms wrapped around her waist, he wanted to plow his fist into the man's laughing face. After all, he was the one who had left her in the company of the other wives, and in all fairness, he had been dancing with other women, some of whom he had been involved with in the past.
He was acting irrationally and unfairly but did not know how to do otherwise. What he was feeling since she descended the stairs at home was twisting him up inside and making him confused and damned ornery.
And he had switched to the hard stuff, which meant he was going to have to drink some coffee or let Indigo drive his car.
"If you keep staring at her like that, you're going to have to get a room. As it so happens, your family owns more than half of the hotel, which shouldn't be a problem for you. Perhaps you should request the honeymoon suite. After all, from what I hear, you're newlyweds."
He tore his gaze from the couple on the dance floor to glower at a grinning Jackson Colby. The man was leaning indolently on the counter of the bar, his white tuxedo shirt open at the front and his tie missing.
"Go away," Brant growled.
"Not a chance. I love me a good story, and when I heard that the man I think of as my friend, that he had gotten married to some woman I don't know, I had to see for myself. And wonder at the haste and why the hell wasn't I invited."
"It was a private ceremony. What are you doing here? Last I heard, you were in Italy."
"Came back this afternoon, and instead of trying to get some much-needed rest as I originally suggested, my darling Jerri dragged me out of the house. That woman will be the death of me." The words were contrary to the lovesick expression on the man's face whenever he mentioned his wife's name.
