Brown-Eyed Girl

“Hi, Joe,” I managed to whisper.

Eight

“Joe’s doing us a favor by taking some pictures for the website,” Hollis said.

He set his camera by the sculpture, his gaze pinning me like a butterfly to a spreading board. “Avery. Nice to see you again.”

“Would you mind keeping company with Avery while she waits here for your cousin Ryan?” Hollis asked.

“My pleasure,” Joe said.

“There’s no need —” I began uncomfortably, but Hollis had already disappeared in a flurry of ostrich feathers.

Silence.

I hadn’t expected it would be this difficult to face Joe. The memories of everything we had done surrounded us like scorch marks in the air. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” I managed to say. Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. “I haven’t handled this well,” I said.

His face was unreadable. “No, you haven’t.”

“I’m sorry —” I stopped, having made the mistake of letting my gaze drop too far. A brief glimpse of the glass floor had given me a bizarre tilting sensation, as if the entire house had begun to rotate sideways.

“If you don’t want to see me again,” Joe said, “that’s your decision. But I’d at least like to know —”

“Jesus.” The room wouldn’t stop moving. I wobbled and reached out to grasp the sleeve of Joe’s jacket in a desperate bid for balance. My evening clutch dropped to the floor. I made the mistake of looking down at it and wobbled again.

Reflexively Joe reached out to steady me. “You okay?” I heard him ask.

“Yes. No.” I gripped one of his wrists.

“Too much to drink?”

It was like standing on the deck of a ship in a rolling sea. “No, it’s not that… the floor, it’s giving me vertigo. Shit, shit–”

“Look at me.” Joe gripped my wrist and reached for my other arm. I stared blindly at the dark blur of his face until my eyes refocused. The rocklike steadiness of his hold was the only thing that kept me from tipping over. “I’ve got you,” he said.

A wave of nausea drained the color from my skin. Beads of cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

“The floor does this to at least half the people who try to walk on it,” Joe continued. “The effect of the water below throws you off balance. Take a deep breath.”

“I didn’t want to walk out here,” I said desperately. “I only did it because Hollis insisted, and I’m trying like hell to land her as a client.” The sweat was going to ruin my makeup. I was going to dissolve like a chalk drawing in the rain.

“Would it help you to know that the floor is made out of layers of structural safety glass that’s at least two inches thick?”

“No” came my woebegone reply.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and his expression softened. Carefully he released one of my arms and took my hand. “Close your eyes and let me lead you.”

I gripped his hand and tried to follow as he moved us forward. After a couple of steps I stumbled, panic clamoring through my body. His arm locked around me immediately, hauling me against him, but the tumbling sensation persisted.

“Oh God,” I said in dazed misery. “There’s no way I’m getting off this stupid floor without falling.”

“I’m not going to let you fall.”

“I feel sick to my stomach —”

“Easy. Stay still and keep your eyes closed.” Keeping his arm around me, Joe reached into his tux jacket and pulled out a handkerchief. I felt the soft folded cloth press gently against my forehead and cheeks, absorbing the film of sweat. “You just got yourself a little worked up, that’s all,” he murmured. “You’ll feel better once your blood pressure goes down. Breathe.” Pushing a lock of hair away from my face, he continued to hold me. “You’re fine.” His voice was quiet, soothing. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Feeling how solid he was, the strength of him all around me, I began to relax. One of my palms pressed against his chest, riding the steady rhythm of his breath.

“You look beautiful in that dress,” Joe said quietly. His hand moved gently through the soft waves of my hair. “And I like this.”

I kept my eyes closed, remembering the way he had gripped his hands in my hair that night, holding my head back while he’d kissed my throat —

I felt the movement of his arm as he gestured to someone.

“What are you doing?” I asked weakly.

“My brother Jack and his wife just got off the elevator.”

“Don’t call them over here,” I begged.

“You’ll get nothing but sympathy from Ella. She got stuck out on this floor when she was pregnant, and Jack ended up having to carry her off.”

An affable voice entered the conversation. “Hey, bro. What’s going on?”

“My friend has vertigo.”

I opened my eyes cautiously. It was obvious that the striking man standing next to Joe was from the same supernally blessed Travis gene pool. Dark hair, alpha charisma, a raffish quality in his grin. “Jack Travis,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

I began to turn to shake his hand, but Joe’s arms tightened.

“No, keep still,” he murmured. He told his brother, “She’s trying to get her bearings.”

“Fuckin’ glass floor,” Jack said ruefully. “I told Hollis to add a layer of smart glass, and then she could turn the whole thing opaque just by flipping a switch. People should listen to me.”