Playing With Her Heart (Caught Up In Love #4)(51)
Author: Lauren Blakely

She must be his sister.

But I don’t spend much time appraising her because he’s so sexy and so sophisticated at the same time in his tux and I swear when I see him in it, I know that tuxes were made for men like him. My blood heats as I look him over, and even from across this spacious room, with all these people between us, and the piped-in show tunes playing overhead, and the twinkling lights, I can’t help but want to be all alone with him. I have to wonder if he can feel the pull through the crowd, if he can sense that I’m here wearing the dress he picked out for me. Goose bumps rise on my skin as I remember the last time I walked into a public place, and he looked me over as if he would only ever have eyes for me. I lick my lips briefly at the memory, and it’s then that he happens to look up from his sister and notice me. He raises an eyebrow ever so slightly and shoots me a quick grin, but then returns his attention to her as I make my way to the bar.

“So isn’t that great that he’ll be coming back to New York soon?”

“Hmm?” I ask, when I realize Shelby’s been chatting with me the whole time as we weave through the sea of Broadway beautiful and benefactors alike.

“My boyfriend. From Los Angeles. Hello, earth to Jill?”

I shake my head, as if I can quiet all these thoughts of Davis. I tell myself the curtains are rising and I am shedding myself and becoming a character. Tonight I’m playing the part of someone who has supreme focus on her friends, not on the man across the room who’s slowly, carefully, wonderfully hooked his way into her heart.

“That’s awesome. I’m sure you’re totally psyched,” I say.

“He’s going to concentrate on his commercial work and voiceovers for a while since pilot season didn’t pan out.”

“That’s too bad about pilot season, but it’ll be nice for you to see him,” I say, and then Reeve turns around and hands me a champagne glass. The bubbles tickle my nose, but it tastes crisp and light.

Then I can feel a tingling in my neck, and a quick ribbon of desire has been unspooled in me. For the briefest of moments, fingertips graze the exposed skin on my back from the V in the dress. But then they’re phantom fingers, and they’re no longer on me. I turn around, and Davis is at the far end of the bar, his back to me, as he chats with Michael Cerveris.

How does he do that? Just set me aflame with one touch? I down the rest of my champagne and Shelby gives me a wide-eyed look.

“I’m thirsty,” I say. “I need another.”

“You go, girl,” she says, “Besides, I see Jane Black setting up over there for her set. I worship the ground her high-heeled boots walk on, so I need to go kowtow.”

“She’s pretty rocking,” I say, referring to the singer who just won a Grammy for an absolutely epic breakup album she wrote. Reeve and Sutton are engrossed in each other’s company, so I squeeze past a gray-haired man in a double-breasted suit and snag a spot near the end of the bar so I can people watch.

“I’d love to go see your band,” Davis says to Michael in his smooth and friendly voice. “Heard great things about Loose Cattle. Great name for a band, by the way.”

I smile privately as Davis talks to actors in his professional demeanor, and I feel like I have a delicious secret because I know all the other things he says. I know how sexy his voice is when he tells me how to touch myself, I know how it goes low and husky when he’s taking my clothes off, I know how he can be sweet and tender when he’s tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and asking to see me again.

I know how he sounds when he’s not the director.

When he’s not the man in the tux.

When he’s not this incredibly powerful presence in the world of New York City performing arts.

I know how rough and hungry he gets when he’s desperate for me to want him as much as he wants me.

“Absolutely. Next Thursday, I’ll be there,” he says, then he shakes Michael’s hand, and turns to me. “Oh, by the way, Michael. Do you know Jill McCormick? She’s the understudy for Alexis in Crash the Moon.”

Michael takes my hand and gives me a quick peck. “Alexis?” he raises an eyebrow. “My condolences,” he teases. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you, and may she give you no trouble at all.”

“Good to meet you as well,” I say, avoiding my least favorite topic—Alexis.

“And on that note, I should go prepare for my song with Ms. Black.”

“A duet with Ms. Black? How lucky can we possibly be?” Davis says to Michael, as if they know something I don’t.

Then Michael says a quick goodbye, and it’s just us at the bar. Well, us and five hundred other people. But he’s the only one I notice.

“I knew you’d look stunning in this dress,” he says casually as he surveys the room, standing side to side with me, so he’s not looking at me. He’s playing by my rules, acting as if we’re two colleagues who happen to be checking out the human scenery at this gala. He speaks as if he’s saying something as mundane as nice weather, but that’s why it’s such a turn-on, because it’s our secret. “And the slit up the side could come in handy.”

I bite my lip, so I don’t start breathing loudly from all these excruciatingly delicious feelings racing through my bloodstream and turning me all the way up. I try to gather myself, to play it as cleverly as he is.

“Yes. You never know when you might have to run,” I fire back, as if the quip can help me regain the equilibrium, but then I’m face to face with him and it’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room and everything stopped, and no one is moving, and it’s just us. I want to run my hand across his face, and play with the collar on his shirt, then smooth out the lapel. I want to slide my hand inside the jacket, touch his back. I want to mark him, so everyone knows this man is taken. This man is mine.

For a second I can’t breathe when the realization hits me. How much I want him to be mine.

“Don’t run on me,” he says in a casual voice, but I know there’s real meaning beneath it.

“I won’t.”

He takes a step closer. “I f**king want you so much,” he whispers in a rough scrape, and heat surges through me, centering between my legs. I’m sure my cheeks are turning that rosy pink that lets him know I feel completely the same, and I’m about to inch closer to feel more of this heat, when I see another blonde approaching him. It takes me a few seconds to place her, but when I do my veins turn to ice, and I’m sure my mouth is hanging open.