for privacy so guests could visit and catch up.
He stopped behind her, smiling over her shoulder at the mayor. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Miss McNair promised me this dance.”
Amie gasped, her mouth opening to protest. But Preston took her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor before she could speak. He hauled her out in front of the small chamber orchestra, moving quickly before the stunned expression could melt from her elegant face. Before a closed, frosty one took its place. He’d watched that transformation too often over the last eight weeks and it was time to put an end to it.
He slid an arm around her and drew her close, those dark brown curls brushing him. “You look lovely tonight. Especially for being stuck in a bridesmaid’s dress.”
“It would have been nice to be asked if I wanted to dance. What are you doing?”
“Dancing with the groom’s cousin. A perfectly acceptable move, nothing to draw attention to us. Unless you cause a scene out here in front of your whole family, our business acquaintances and some mighty prominent politicians.”
Which he definitely did not want her to do. Then, he would have to let her go. And he liked the feel of her in his arms again too much to have her walk away yet.
“Fine,” she conceded, blue eyes predictably turning to ice as she spoke. “Let’s dance for appearances. Gran’s always saying it’s good for the company if we show a unified front.”
Oh, he had her here for more than appearances and business. He was going to find a way to get past her cold shoulder. He couldn’t stop the attraction, and chances were slim to none that he would be able to act on it. But he could damn well do something to disperse the tension between them.
He hoped.
Preston sidestepped another couple and swept her to a less crowded corner of the dance floor, mindful of the security guards posted around the perimeter of the event. “It’s quite a party tonight. Congratulations to your cousin and his bride on their nuptials.”
If Stone hadn’t given up his role as CEO of Diamonds in the Rough, Preston wouldn’t have been here. And the job was damn important to him. His job was all he had after the crash and burn of his personal life.
She smiled tightly, her body stiff and unyielding in his arms. “We do have all the tools for a first-rate wedding at our disposal.”
The bride’s thirty-thousand-dollar tiara had been custom designed for the event; in fact, a delicately understated piece that Amie had worked on personally for weeks. The tiara alone had created industry buzz and media coverage alike, a key piece in the company’s new bridal collection.
“Do you realize this is the first time we’ve spoken about anything other than business?” He respected her work ethic, and discovering that admirable trait about her made this all the more difficult. Unlike her father, she was more than a figurehead. Amie contributed immeasurably to the company, so Preston crossed her path. Often.
She angled closer and for an instant he thought maybe...his pulse sped. His gaze dropped to her mouth. To her lips, parted.
And then, too soon, her breath teased against his neck as she whispered, “I just want to make it clear, we won’t be heading for the coat closet tonight.”
There was no mistaking her determination. Too bad her method for delivering the news had him ready to sweep her off her feet and back to the cabin he’d reserved on the property for the night.
“I’m quite clear on that after your big chill these past two months.” His hand twitched against her waist, the memory of her satiny skin still burned in his memory. “I’m just glad to know you’re finally willing to acknowledge it happened.”
“Of course it happened,” she hissed between pearly-white teeth. “I was very much there.”
The brush of her body against his was sweet torture. “I remember well.”
Shadows shifted through her sky blue eyes. “Did you know who I was that night?”
Her words slowed his feet, stunning him. He picked up the dance pace again and asked, “Is that what you’ve thought all this time? That I played you on purpose?”
“Forget I said anything.” She pulled back. “It doesn’t matter now.”
He strengthened his hold. “Not that you would believe me regardless of what I say. Although it was more than clear you didn’t know who I was, and if you had, that night wouldn’t have happened.” He touched her face lightly. “And that would have been a damn shame.”
They stood so close, their mouths only a couple of inches apart. He remembered how good she tasted—and how complicated that had made things for them the past couple of months. Having an affair with her would be a bad idea, given he was her boss and she was the granddaughter of the major stockholder.
But God, he was tempted.
So was she. He could see it in her jewel-blue eyes and the way she swayed toward him an instant before she stepped back.
Grasping his wrists, she pulled his arms from her. “I’m not sure what spurred you to reminisce right now since you don’t seem to be the type to get sentimental at weddings. But now is not the time or the place for this discussion.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re willing to talk then? Later?”
She held up a hand. “Talk. Only. I mean that.”
“Let’s step outside—”
“No. Not here. Not tonight.”
He reached for her, sensing already she was just putting him off again. “Amie, if this is another stall tactic—”
“We’ll have our secretaries check our calendars and schedule a lunch next week. Okay? Is that specific enough for you? Now, I need to check on my grandmother.” She spun away in a swirl of peach silk.
Standing in the middle of the dance floor, he watched her walk away, the sway of her hips and those million-dollar legs peeking through a slit in the dress. Stepping off the dance floor, he wondered what the hell he hoped to gain in a conversation with her. An affair, given their work connection, was a bad idea, but he wasn’t in the market for anything long term. Not again.
He charged back to the bar for another bourbon on the rocks, ignoring a waiter’s offering of the evening’s signature beverage, a Mouton Rothschild favored by the couple. Tonight, bourbon would do just fine. Marriage hadn’t worked out well for him. At all. Just ask his ex. He was too absorbed with work, too much of a loner. After all, a boss couldn’t party with his subordinates, which put a serious dent in any kind of social life. He wanted to say that’s what had made him so susceptible to Amie that first night, but he knew it was more than that. He was a man of control. Calm. Yet, the second he’d seen Amie, he’d claimed her with that first look in an explosive chemistry that went beyond any he’d experienced before, even with his ex-wife.
No wonder his marriage had failed early on. He’d made a fortune and in the end it hadn’t made a bit of difference when things mattered most.
Rather than subject their daughter to a divorce, he and his wife had tried to hold it together for their child. But theirs had become a marriage in name only. Eventually, his ex had found someone else. She’d told Preston her new love would at least be around, which was better for Leslie than an absentee father. He’d bought into that, feeling guilty as hell and incapable of giving his child what she needed.
He’d replayed that decision a million times over, wondering if he’d fought harder for his marriage, for his child, if life could have turned out differently. Guilt piled on top of more guilt.
His baby girl had flown out of control during her teen years. Drugs, alcohol, sex. He’d tried grounding her, taking away her car, her allowance. He’d planned to take a vacation week to spend time with her, let her pick the vacation spot. She’d turned him down.
He