It didn't escape Duncan's notice that Annabelle had to bite her lips to keep from smiling too big. Well, good, he thought as he led her through the bar. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her or himself. But he'd be damned if he was going to step aside tonight. Not for one minute was he willing to give up his time with Annabelle. He certainly hadn't intended to go all Neanderthal on her father's guests, but he was not about to step the fuck aside. Not now. Not ever.
He was rolling with a good head of steam when he saw them. Probably had every thought showing on his face too when, just across the hallway and standing at the entrance of the ballroom, Duncan spied the two biggest assholes on the face of the Earth. Son of a bitch, he thought, as Vance and Brooks burst out laughing the moment they saw him.
"You two," Duncan pointed. "Later," he promised.
"Why are they laughing?" Annabelle asked as they entered the ballroom. "You don't think they set all that up, do you?"
"I'm certain of it," Duncan said, raising his voice to be heard above the band. He continued to hold Annabelle's hand as he turned to face her. Behind her, the room was rocking. The large ballroom was jammed with party-goers, most of whom were dancing--and, from the looks of all the discarded jackets, sweating as well. Beyond that mayhem, the band put on a show. With a brass section and backup dancers, no wonder everyone wanted to be on the dance floor. "Man, this is some party," he said over her head.
"Why would they do that?"
Duncan looked into Annabelle's upturned face and couldn't help but smile. She was indignant on his behalf. Almost made it all worth it. He carefully took the glass out of her hand and held up a finger indicating she should wait there. He stashed their drinks on a side table littered with purses, cocktail napkins, half-finished drinks and even ladies' shoes. When he came back, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her in close to speak against her ear.
"Brooks and Vance think I don't like to dance."
Annabelle pulled back and looked up at him with a cautious expression. He tugged her back to him intending to say more. But her heat and her scent had every neuron in his brain zeroing in on the soft, pale skin just below his lips. As if in a trance, he closed his eyes and leaned in to bite the tender spot between her neck and shoulder. Abruptly, he caught himself, his body immediately pumping adrenaline at the misstep. Jesus H. Christ. Sweet Mother Mary. He felt his heart pounding against his ribcage. His brain had shut down and his libido had gone commando. I am a complete goner. He swallowed before he could remember what he'd intended to say. When words came out they were thick, and full of want. "What Brooks and Vance don't know is, I actually do like to dance. It just has to be with the right partner."
Almost afraid to look at her, Duncan unwrapped himself and started to back up, slowly pulling Annabelle onto the dance floor. When his eyes finally made their way to her face, he was richly rewarded by the soft, tender expression waiting for him. Well, dang. Apparently he did have a way with words.
Duncan acknowledged that a lot of things had to be in alignment for him to have a good time on any dance floor. Two shots of tequila and a beer didn't hurt. A kick-ass band could get him most of the way there. But he'd told the truth--having the right partner was key. Because while his attention was on Annabelle, thoughts of looking like an idiot out here didn't bother to intrude.
While dancing over the course of the set, one of the things Duncan found wildly entertaining was watching Annabelle and her sisters dance around each other. They had this habit of hiking their gowns clear up to the tops of their thighs--and we're talking some sweet-looking thighs. He expected Mrs. Devine to run out and swat all those dresses down at some point, but then he saw the darnedest thing. Mrs. Devine came running all right. But they must have been playing the family theme song because all the girls gathered where he and Annabelle were dancing, and even Mrs. Devine had the hem of her dress swishing around some very shapely thighs. Huh. It wasn't quite ten o'clock and the Keeper and her mother were flashing the crowd. Damned if Brooks wasn't right. This New Year's Eve ball was kickin' ass and taking names.
And as much fun as all that was, the elation he felt when a slow song began to play could have raised the Titanic. Because there was nothing he wanted to do more than get his hands on the ball of fire in front of him.
However, he was not going to swing her into his arms like an eager teen. No. He was of a mind to savor this coming together. Savor the first time he'd take this fast-drivin', law-breakin', debutante-makin', quick-witted beauty into his arms. So he maneuvered slowly, with great intent and purpose. Stepping close and sliding one arm around her waist. Feeling the heat of her body, noticing her labored breathing. He bent one knee to fit between the two of hers before wrapping his other arm around her back, slowly pressing the solidness of his chest against the softness of hers. Her head tilted up. Her lips waiting just below his own. Like the start of a whirlpool, the blood in his head began to circle, threatening to take him under.
His eyes darted away from her face and around the room. "What?" he heard Annabelle's soft rustle of laughter. "Who are you looking for?" she asked.
"Your father," he confessed, then drew his attention back to her upturned face. "God, you're beautiful," he sighed. "But that guy scares me." His gaze shot out around them again.
Annabelle tucked her forehead against his chest. She was laughing at him but it couldn't be helped. He was dying to kiss her and just wasn't willing to ruin the moment by worrying about her daddy as he did. Luckily, there was no sign of the man. But as relief started to flow, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The WTF, you've-got-to-be-kidding-me kind.
He cleared his throat. "Annabelle," he said, causing her to look up in surprise. "The thing you are about to find out about me? I've got a temper."
She saw them then. Brooks, Vance and three others moving in their direction.
"I swear to God, if one of them so much as hints at breaking in on this dance, it's gonna get ugly."
She looked between him and the approaching band of buffoons. "Now might be a good time for that test drive," she said.
She took his hand and quickly led him away, bobbing and weaving through the couples slow dancing, heading straight toward the band. God, how great is this woman? They turned left at the stage edge, stooping low in front of all the dancers until they hit the outskirts of the crowd, then shot left again and broke into a run toward the far back door. When they hit the hallway, it was less crowded, and there was no sign of Brooks or Vance. Annabelle motioned for him to follow her to the right and then down a set of stairs. The music and party chatter kept receding as they descended, lingering over their heads as a heavy beat when they crossed back under the party and moved down a long, dimly-lit hallway that traversed the back of the clubhouse.
At the sight of the exit doors, Annabelle started laughing and broke into a run. Duncan followed in chase, hitting the door along with her and bounding up a short flight of concrete steps, free at last.
After working up a sweat on the dance floor, he found cool relief in the frigid night air. Annabelle continued to laugh, saying, "I can't believe we just ran away from them." She turned to Duncan, walking backwards into the light cast from a street lamp at the entrance to the parking lot. "Like playing hide and seek when we were kids."
Duncan allowed his steps to slow into a lazy gait, enjoying the scene before him. Annabelle flushed with excitement, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks rosy, that dazzling smile turned on full wattage and directed right at him. The light behind her showing through her white gossamer gown giving him a full view of just how little she wore beneath it. In two quick steps he caught her up in his arms and pressed her to him, thinking he might owe Brooks and Vance a little gratitude for forcing them out here, finally alone under the dark of night. Because he was now going to be able to do the one thing he'd been thinking about for most of the day.
Drive Annabelle's car.
"Ah, damn it to hell," he uttered shaking his head. "And it was such a clean getaway, too."
"What?" she laughed at him. "What could possibly be wrong now?"
"Besides the fact that for the second time today you are standing in the freezing cold wearing next to nothing? We need your car keys, Danica Patrick. Unless you have them strapped to your inner thigh, I'm guessing they are back inside, tucked into some flimsy little purse."
"Ooh," she said, backing out of his hold and turning toward the parking lot. "There is so much you have left to learn, Officer Friendly," she said, her voice trailing behind her. He caught up with her in time to hear, "We always leave the doors unlocked and the keys under the driver's side mat."
The idea left him dumbstruck as he halted and simply stared after her. Finally he shrugged, "I guess that's good to know. In case I ever need to make a quick getaway."
Impressed that her big bad muscle car was tucked into the end of a row, protecting at least one side from dings, he herded her around to the passenger side and opened the door, helping her in. The bitter cold was starting to seep into his awareness and he would have felt sorry for any Greek Goddess draped only in chiffon if it weren't for the saliva-producing way her nipples responded.
He shut the door and practically growled as he headed to the driver's side.
The inside of the machine was spacious due to its wide, low ride, but the leather bucket seats molded around his thighs, supporting him front to back. He started her up with a roar, and gave the gas a punch just to hear it again. He smiled the exhilarated smile of a kid strapping himself into the latest high-tech roller coaster. Thank God whatever weather system the newscasters had been yammering on about hadn't started yet, because this was gonna be good.
After adjusting the mirrors and fastening his seat belt, he cautiously maneuvered Annabelle's baby out of the parking space, down the lot and out onto the long front drive of the Henderson Country Club. He hit the gas and felt the power surge throw him back as the Camaro went from zero to sixty in one crazy nanosecond. He was braking before his thoughts could catch up to him, and sat for a moment at the end of the driveway, wondering why the hell he didn't have one of these. Finally he turned his head toward Annabelle and said, "Awesome." She simply nodded.
He fumbled in his jacket pocket for his cell phone and handed it to her. "Call Brooks," he said. "Tell him I wanna open her up along Lake Road. See if any of his cop buddies are patrolling there this time of night."
"Really? You want me to call Brooks and tell him where we are?"
"Haven't we had enough tickets today, Little Miss Speedy Gonzales?"
"Are you kidding me? Brooks will be calling everybody on duty to nail your ass coming and going. You'd be handing him the revenge he needs after you won the bet today."
Duncan stared at Annabelle, open mouthed.
"At least that's what I'd do." She flicked her shoulder. "But it's your money," she said, starting to dial.
Duncan grabbed the phone out of her hands. "It's exactly what I'd do, too," he muttered. "And what Brooks would do," he assured her. "And did I just hear the word 'ass' come out of your mouth?" he said, stuffing the phone back in his pocket. "The Queen of Etiquette?" he said, putting the Camaro in gear and moving out onto the open road. "Or was that the hot babe in the Auto Mechanics Club talking?"
Annabelle just smiled into the night whizzing by her. "Take your pick," she said.
I want both.
It was then that the thrill turned from the drive to what might be found at the destination.