The elevator door opened into the lobby of the Sunburst Hotel in downtown Lyndon, and Katrina nearly stumbled on her high-heeled silver sandals. Reed didn’t look remotely gritty. Quite the contrary, he looked fantastic in a tuxedo.
Next to a marble pillar and an oversize leather furniture grouping, he was joking with Caleb, Travis and Seth. He was the tallest of the three, broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, with his hair freshly trimmed and his dark eyes zeroing in on her.
“Wow.” The word whooshed out beneath her breath. She had to remind herself to keep walking between Mandy and Abigail.
“You mean Caleb?” Mandy asked, a thread of amusement in her tone.
“Right,” Katrina returned without missing a beat. “Caleb.” Her gaze stayed glued to Reed.
“Seth’s tie is crooked,” Abigail put in, quickening her pace, clearly hoping to get to Seth and correct the problem before anyone else noticed.
“Liar,” Mandy muttered to Katrina.
“Who? Abigail?”
“Admit it, you’re attracted to Reed.”
“Not at all,” Katrina lied.
“You haven’t taken your eyes off him.”
“I was thinking he’s too tall.” Among other things. He was also too strong, too determined, too attractive and far too good a kisser for a Colorado cowboy.
“He looks great in a tux,” Mandy singsonged.
“All men look great in a tux.” Though few men looked
As they drew closer, Caleb gave a low whistle of appreciation, his gaze warm on Mandy in an off-the-shoulder, full-skirted, full-length gown in shimmering silver.
“I love it when you dress up like a girl,” he told her, putting an arm around her bare shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on her temple.
Abigail finished with Seth’s tie, chatting to him about the attendees at the ball, enumerating those he should seek out. Travis joined in their conversation, joking about who could make the biggest financial contribution to Seth’s campaign, as the three started toward the hotel exit. Mandy took Caleb’s arm and they fell into step behind, leaving Katrina and Reed to bring up the rear.
“You look very nice,” Reed offered to Katrina, taking in her slim-fitting, butter-yellow satin gown. The V-necked bodice was crisscrossed with tiny strands of crystals that also ran the length of the spaghetti straps accenting her bare shoulders. The back dipped low, while the hem flared out. The skirt was snug at her hips, but loose enough along the length of her legs to allow for dancing.
She’d bought some inexpensive but fun dangling crystal earrings that now hung below her simple updo. She’d paired them with an elaborate necklace of crystals interspersed with yellow topaz snug against her throat. Her makeup was to Liberty Ballet standards, a little heavier than Katrina preferred, but nobody in the ballet company would have a complaint if her photo ended up in a national magazine.
“Thank you,” she answered Reed, still drinking in his appearance.
He’d skipped the bow tie, going instead for a classic Windsor knot of taupe silk with a matching pocket square in the black coat, all over a crisp white shirt. The tux fitted him extremely well, and she wondered if it was possible that he owned it.
His strong, weathered hands and his slightly imperfect nose were the only things that stopped him from being equally urbane as any man she’d met in New York City. The realization was both disconcerting and exhilarating.
He held out his arm. She automatically slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, the strength of his ropy muscles evident through the supple fabric.
“You look very nice, too,” she returned the compliment.
“I feel like a penguin,” he grumbled. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to move in one of these things?”
Katrina gestured to her slim-fitting dress. “As opposed to moving in this?”
“Nobody expects you to hop out of the car and change a tire.”
“You’re planning to change a tire tonight?”
“You never know what might happen.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at that.
He took her hand and pressed it to his jacket pocket.
She felt a hard, rectangular lump against his hip. “What on earth?”
“Multitool,” he told her. “Knife, screwdriver, file, pliers.”
“You’re armed with a tool set?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We’ll be in a ballroom,” she pointed out. “I expect there’s a maintenance crew. And the worst thing likely to happen tonight is a broken shoe buckle.”
They passed through the hotel exit to the sidewalk, where a lineup of shiny black SUVs waited for guests. She glanced around but didn’t spot her sisters and brothers.
“I can fix a broken shoe buckle,” said Reed. “I can also repair a harness, remove a splinter, whittle some kindling and fix an outboard motor.”
“I can’t do any of those things, with or without a multitool. Well, maybe remove a splinter,” she allowed. Then she glanced ruefully at the tiny clutch purse that contained nothing but the bare necessities. “But not with anything I brought along tonight.”
Reed opened the back door to one of the vehicles. “That’s the beauty of the system,” he told her, cupping his palm over her elbow to help her into the seat.
She glanced up questioningly.
He gave her a grin and a waggle of his brows. “You brought me. You don’t need anything else.”
“You’re a living, breathing multitool?” she guessed.
His eyes darkened ever so slightly, and his tone went low. “That I am.”
Had he just turned shoe-buckle repairs into a flirtation?
Before she could decide, he gently shut the door behind her, rounding the back of the vehicle to climb in the other side.
“To the Hospital Ball?” the driver asked Reed.
“Yes, please,” he answered, stretching his arm across the back of the seat.
The driver nodded and pulled the vehicle into traffic.
Reed angled his body so that he was gazing at Katrina. He didn’t say anything, just watched her while they made their way along Seventh Street toward Main.
She gazed back, meeting his eyes, strangely not feeling the need to break the silence. The moment stretched on, and she found herself remembering their kiss, his touch, his taste, the sound of his voice rumbling next to her ear and the woodsy scent of his skin.
“You going to be able to dance?” he asked gruffly, with a nod toward her left ankle.
“I think I can make it through a waltz or two,” she answered.
Progress was slow on her ankle. Then again, at least she was making progress. For the few days before she’d come back to Colorado, the healing had seemed to stall. She’d been terrified it would never get better, or it would take so long to get better that she’d lose her position with the ballet company.
A shiver ran through her at the unsettling thought.
“Save a dance for me?” Reed asked quietly, his eyes glinting silver.
“I will.” Katrina realized once again how safe she felt with Reed. There was nothing to worry about right now. Nothing was going to cause her any trouble tonight. Not even a flat tire.
As Reed would have expected, Katrina was the belle of the ball. Dinner had ended, but the dancing was not yet underway. So far, it had taken her nearly twenty minutes to make it halfway across the ballroom toward the ladies’ room. Men stopped her, clustered around her, asking questions, obviously offering compliments, lingering when they shook her hand, making excuses to touch her.
Reed downed a swallow of champagne, wishing he had something stronger to quench his thirst.
