Travis Jacobs took the chair next to him, nudged his elbow, and offered him a single malt, neat, in a heavy crystal glass.
Reed gratefully accepted. “Thanks.”
Travis slouched back, propping his elbow on the opposite chair, his voice a drawl. “I see the way you’re looking at my sister.”
Reed took a swallow of the Scotch. “Same way every other guy in the room is looking at your sister. You don’t like it? Don’t let her dress like that.”
“You Terrells need to keep your hands off the Jacobs women.”
Reed gave a snort of derision. “Caleb’s marrying one of them, and I haven’t touched any of them.”
Kissing Katrina didn’t count. It was a well-accepted fact that
Just then the orchestra came up and the lights went down. Reed and Travis both watched as yet another man approached Katrina. His gaze scanned her thoroughly from head to toe, then he stood far too close, his expression animated, his hand too familiar on her arm. Katrina took a step back, but the guy didn’t let her go.
Reed firmly set down his Scotch glass and came to his feet. “I assume dancing is acceptable,” he said to Travis, even as he moved away from the table.
“If it gets her out of that jerk’s clutches, go for it.”
Reed nodded in response, already pacing his way toward Katrina.
Once there, he snaked a proprietary arm around her slim waist. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, his hard glare causing the jerk to pull back as if he’d been scalded.
“Are you ready for that dance?” he continued, turning his attention fully onto Katrina, dismissing the other man with a cold shoulder.
The man withdrew, muttering something unintelligible.
A beat went past.
“Did you just rescue me?” Katrina asked in obvious amusement.
“Story of my life.”
“I was fine.”
“You didn’t look fine.” Reed knew he should remove his hand from her waist, but he left it there anyway.
“He was a little too friendly,” she admitted. “But I could have handled it.”
“You didn’t need to handle it. That’s why you brought me along, remember?”
She pivoted to look at him. “I thought you were only planning to fix shoe buckles and remove splinters.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her joke. “I also dance.”
“The two-step?”
“If that’s what you want.”
She cocked her head. “This is a waltz.”
Reed removed his arm from her waist, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “Then let’s waltz.”
He steered her toward the dance floor where the ensemble was playing a classic ballad. There, he drew her into his arms, and his entire body seemed to sigh in satisfaction as she settled against him.
She was fluid and graceful, light on her feet, sensitive to his slightest nuance. He tucked her more closely to his body, his hand coming in contact with the bare skin revealed by the plunging V at the back of her dress. Her soft skin was so distracting that he struggled for something coherent to say.
“You’re a very good dancer,” he opened.
There was a smile in her voice when she answered. “Thank you. I’ve had a few lessons.”
He gave a sheepish grin in return. “I guess you have.”
“But it was nice of you to notice,” she continued with what sounded like sincerity. “And you’re not so bad yourself.”
“High-school gym class,” he admitted. It wasn’t something he’d done frequently since then, but when he did, he always enjoyed it.
The lights dimmed further, and the band switched songs to another famous fifties cover tune. Reed saw no reason to let her go, so he let one song blend into the next, keeping her snugly in his arms.
They silently wound their way toward a set of doors that were open to a wide veranda. It was darker at this end of the ballroom, the music was lower and a cool breeze wafted in from the riverbank. She molded closer against him.
“Cold?” he whispered, gathering her tight, even as he turned so that his body was blocking the breeze.
“I’m fine,” she answered into his chest.
Reed was fine, too. In fact, he was a whole lot better than fine. He wished that time would stop, that the world would fall away and leave him here alone with Katrina.
But then he caught sight of Travis far across the room, closely watching their every move. And he knew the world wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Not that Reed blamed Katrina’s brother for worrying. Reed definitely shouldn’t be trusted with her.
“You go to things like this in New York City?” he found himself asking, curious and wondering how safe she’d be with neither of her brothers around to run interference.
Did she dress this provocatively for functions in New York? It was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra, and he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly she had on underneath the clingy satin dress.
“Things like what?” she asked, voice slightly dreamy.
“Dances, charity functions.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “We’re contractually obligated to make public appearances. It’s good for contributions to have recognizable performers attend Liberty Ballet fundraisers.”
Reed didn’t like the sound of that. “It’s compulsory? What if you don’t want to go?”
She tipped her chin to look up at him. “It’s my job.”
Reed’s spine stiffened. “It’s your job to dance with random men?”
“Random men with a lot of money to contribute.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Really?” she drawled. “And your opinion counts why?”
Reed didn’t have a good answer for that. “What about your brothers?”
“What about them?”
Reed’s glance darted to Travis again, finding him absorbed in a conversation with two other men. “Do they know?”
“You mean, do they know…” she made a show of glancing surreptitiously around the dance floor then lowered her voice to a stage whisper “…about my wicked little ballroom-dancing secret?”
A surge of jealousy hit Reed at the thought of her other dance partners. Giving into impulse, he stepped through the patio door, spinning her outside, away from the crowd.
“Hey,” she protested.
But instead of stopping, he let their momentum carry them along the fieldstone wall. He came to a halt beside a square stone pillar, his forearm tightening across the small of her back, the darkness closing around them to give privacy.
She gasped in a breath, lips parting, eyes wide.
He gave her half a second to say no, then swooped in for a kiss. He came down harder than he’d intended, openmouthed, tongue invading, greedily savoring the sweet, moist heat of her mouth.
After a startled second, she tipped her head back, welcoming him, her tongue tangling with his. Her spine arched, and her hips pressed against the steel of his thighs. Her arms twined around his neck, and his free hand closed over her rear, the thin fabric of her dress all but disappearing in his imagination.
“Are you naked under this?” he rasped, kissing her neck, her shoulder, brushing a spaghetti strap out of the way to taste her tender skin.
“Are you naked under that?” she asked in return, tone teasing, her hands slipping beneath his jacket to wrap around him, branding him through the cotton of his shirt.
“Yes,” he hissed, then resumed the kiss that went on and on, pushing want and need into every fiber of his body. His world contracted to Katrina, her taste, her feel, her scent. His hands roamed, while his lips savored, and her lithe body imprinted itself on his skin.
