When she turned, he saw she was older than he'd anticipated. He wasn't certain just what gave him that impression. Her features seemed a little sharp; still he liked her face. There was a bangle on one wrist, otherwise he saw no jewelry. Her body needed no adornments, she stood erect and her shape was trim. Whatever her age, she was confidently attractive.

His eyes wandered around the room yet kept going back to the redhead, green dress and legs. He stood with his wine glass trying to appear casual and watched her mingling. She seemed to be drifting nearer to where he was standing. Minutes later she was much closer and holding her gaze on him.

Him?

She came over and introduced herself, Loraine Dellin. He fumbled a few words expecting her to ask why he had been staring, but she started right in with party talk.

She made drawn out comments about what was good and what was a shame. She frequently reached over and touched his arm to emphasize a point he usually didn't get. All very polite and clever. It was easy going, he just smiled and nodded, grateful for her casual rambling that kept the conversation running without his input. Silence would mean death.

The wine tasted good, he felt comfortable and was now enjoying the party. She stood quite close to him and with heels was eye to eye. Quite enjoyable having this attractive woman standing right there with those pale green eyes focused on him. Her face showed deep lines around the eyes, but that didn't seem important. He was careful about looking down; she couldn't have known just how loose fitting her neckline was. There seemed to be quite a bit unconstrained down there.

She wanted to know about him. "So, you're down here alone, no wife, no kids, no attachments?"

"Just a sister up in Philadelphia, we don't keep in touch much."

She asked how he knew Meg.

"We work at the same firm," he explained. "Nothing exciting for my part. My office is buried in the back." He tried to sound smooth, but his mouth was dry and not working well.

She nodded approval. "I have an account with her firm. She's British, you know."

"Born in Boston, I thought."

After a few minutes, she stepped back. So, that's it, he guessed, now comes the polite "nice chatting with you" part. Well, it had been nice. Coming to the party had been worthwhile after all. He certainly had received more than his share of her attention. He assumed she was leaving to resume mingling, but she was just reaching to the table for a canapé. She didn't seem to notice her breast brushed hard against his arm.




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