My Man Pendleton(31)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

She shook her head in response to his offer. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

Another awkward moment ensued, until Holt rallied the conversation. “What brings you here tonight?”

Oh, good, she thought. Bland small talk. Even she could handle that. “The Temperance League is a big sponsor for the Boys and Girls Clubs of Kentuckiana.”

He nodded. “So is Hensley’s.”

Well, that was certainly a surprise. “You can’t be serious.”

He smiled again, this time a bit uncertainly. “Why can’t I be serious?”

“A distiller? Sponsoring a juvenile charity? That doesn’t make sense.”

He seemed honestly mystified by her objection. “Why not? It’s a wonderful organization.”

“But a distiller? What are you doing? Trying to get kids hooked while they’re young? It’s not enough that people abuse alcohol as adults?”

He emitted an impatient sound. “Look, contrary to what you think about us, Hensley’s isn’t some monster intent on turning the world’s inhabitants into a bunch of drunks, all right? We’re regular contributors to a variety of local charities. Virtually all corporations are. We give money to support the arts, education and the beautification of the city. We even contribute regularly to MADD. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“It’s just that…”

“What?”

She scrunched up her shoulders and let them drop, suddenly feeling silly for speaking. “Well… It’s just that the Boys and Girls Clubs of Kentuckiana seems an unlikely choice for Hensley’s, that’s all.”

His expression hardened as he spoke. “Mrs. Ivory, if we can’t get to at-risk kids when they’re young, then they’re goners.”

His vehemence surprised her. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

He dropped his gaze back into his drink, but only swirled the liquor around in the glass. “Let’s just say I’ve seen one or two people get into trouble in their lives, trouble they could have avoided if someone had just taken half an interest in them when they were kids.”

Faith couldn’t imagine how someone like Holt McClellan would understand about such things. He’d grown up wealthy and wanted, privileged and pampered. What could he possibly know about the lives of troubled kids?

“Well…”she tried again. But she had no idea what to say.

He seemed to detect her uneasiness, because he glanced up at her again and smiled reassuringly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound the way it did. This is just something I feel rather strongly about. Obviously. Let me make it up to you.”

“How?”

“Let me take you to dinner tomorrow night.”

Immediately, she shook her head. “Thank you, but I have plans,” she replied, the lie rolling effortlessly off her lips. It was her stock-in-trade answer, one she invariably invoked whenever anyone asked her out.

“Later in the week, then,” he said. “Friday maybe?”

“I can’t. Truly. Thank you, anyway.”

He met her gaze pointedly. “Is it that you can’t, or that you won’t?”

She shook her head more adamantly. “I can’t,” she repeated.

He nodded, but seemed no more convinced of the truthfulness of her response than she was herself. For a moment, she almost backpedaled, almost told him she’d be more than happy to alter her plans, change her schedule, rearrange her entire life, anything to spend a little time with him. Fortunately, she wasn’t so far gone that she would do something as foolish as that. Not yet, anyway. A few more minutes in his presence, however, and she wasn’t sure she could be held responsible for much of anything she did.

“I have to go,” she said suddenly.

He didn’t seem surprised by her admission, but he asked, “So soon? The evening just started. I think the mayor’s going to make a presentation of some kind.”

She nodded quickly. “I know, …but, um…”

“But what?”

She scrambled for an excuse. “I forgot to feed my cat.” Some excuse, she chastised herself. She didn’t evenhave a cat.

“Okay, Mrs. Ivory,” Holt said softly. “I get the message.”

“What message?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

He only inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. “Where are you parked? If I’ve managed to chase you off, then the least I can do is walk you to your car.”

Ignoring the part about him chasing her off, she replied, “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll be fine on my own.” She had, after all, been fine on her own for six months now, right? Well, except for that big gaping wound inside her that nothing seemed capable of healing. Oh, but, hey, other than that…

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. I won’t let you leave here alone. It’s not safe this time of night. Did you check your coat?”

He obviously wasn’t going to be put off by her objections, and a quick glance around told her no one else was available for her to draft as an escort. So she opened her little black cocktail purse and extracted her coat check, handing it to him without comment.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he said.

Would but that were true. Unfortunately, Faith was pretty sure that even if she never saw him again, it would be quite some time before Holt McClellan left her completely.

As she watched him go, she tried not to linger too long on the broad shoulders that strained against his tuxedo jacket, or on the long legs that cut a swath easily through the packed room, or the blond head that passed well above the crowd. Thank heavens his jacket covered his fanny, she thought wryly. The last thing she needed was to be caught ogling that part of him.

“Faith, darling, there you are.”

Especially by Miriam Anderson, the director of the Louisville Temperance League, who emerged from the crowd nearby.

“Miriam, how nice to see you. I was wondering where you were.”

The plump redhead smiled, her green eyes sparkling brightly enough to vie with the emerald sequins of her gown. “We just now arrived. George was held up at work. I hope we haven’t missed anything.”

Oh, only me making a complete fool of myself by telling lame lies to a gorgeous man I have no business speaking to anyway, Faith thought. “Not a thing,” she assured her companion. “Though I understand the mayor’s going to be speaking.”