Page 2 of Something’s Brewing

Madison wasn’t unfamiliar with formal events. The Navy had its share of dress uniforms, galas, and ceremonies, and NCIS wasn’t much different. She knew how to make small talk and work a room when duty required it. Tonight, though, she wasn’t here for a mission or an obligation. She was simply a woman in a mask, and somehow that felt far more unsettling.

Before she could second-guess her decision to come, a man in a black-and-gold Venetian mask stepped directly into her path. He wore a charcoal suit and a bronze tie that caught the light. Without breaking eye contact, he plucked two champagne flutes from a passing tray and handed her one.

His hair was thick and wavy, the kind that made her want to run her hands through it. He was clean-shaven with a strong jaw, and his expression was hidden, but his stare was mesmerizing. She felt her cheeks turn hot under his attention.

“Thank you.” She took a sip of the champagne, letting the silence stretch a little. “So,” she said, tipping her glass slightly, “is this where you tell me you come to masquerade balls all the time, or where you admit this is a one-night exception?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to lie this early.”

“Good,” she said. “I don’t trust people who are too comfortable with it.”

“Duly noted.” He glanced around the room, then back to her. “You?”

She considered him over the rim of her glass. “I almost didn’t come.”

That got his attention. He tilted his head, waiting.

“But,” she continued, “I decided I didn’t want to miss something just because it felt easier to stay away.”

“From the party?” he said.

“From everything,” she corrected.

“I’m glad you changed your mind.”

“So am I.” She smiled. “I haven’t enjoyed an event like this in a long time.”

He looked at her like he was choosing his next words carefully. “Because of the room?”

“No.” She shook her head once. “Because of the people in it.” She exhaled quietly. “I’m used to rooms where everyone’s performing.”

His gaze held hers, fixed and unguarded despite the mask. “Then I’m honored.”

“You should be,” she said lightly, rescuing them both from the sudden intensity of the moment. “You’re doing a good job so far.”

“Careful,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You look like you’re analyzing me.”

She stepped closer, close enough to lower her voice without needing to whisper. “I am.”

The music changed to something slower, smoother, and her gaze shifted toward the dance floor.

“Are you going to ask,” she said, “or should I?”

He held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

When she placed her hand into his, a flicker of awareness moved through her, but she dismissed it immediately and her training kicked in. His large hand was warm, not overly calloused, but not soft either. He worked for a living, but not with his hands all day. Did he feel the electric hum threading between them? Or was she being silly, noticing something that didn’t exist because Eve and Sophie had planted that nonsense about instant attraction?

The orchestra swelled into another slow song as he guided her toward the center of the ballroom.

Garrett wasn’t sure how it had happened. One minute he’d been standing near the refreshment table, making polite conversation, and the next, she’d walked into the room and he was drawn to her like a moth to a light. For the last half hour, he’d been dancing with the same woman and forgetting there was an entire ballroom full of people around them.

Her hand rested in his, her other on his shoulder.

The way she held herself, confident and grounded, made the moment feel strangely . . . important.

Because of the heels she was wearing, he only had to tilt his head down slightly. “Can I ask you something?”

She glanced up at him, amused. “You just did.”