with.
He had enough confidence to approach her while she was still surrounded by her friends. But now it looked like he wouldn’t have to. She’d just returned from the restroom to her table alone, looking longingly out on the dance floor. A young woman who needed to have some fun…and Blake was the perfect partner in crime.
Glancing down at the napkin in his hand, he grinned. Now he had an interesting opening to approach her.
Blake crossed over to the table and paused beside Madison’s chair. She glanced up, then did the double take he was used to. Her eyes widened as she got a good look at him, though she quickly tried to mask her reaction. He’d never been uncomfortable knowing he’d dressed to impress—but for some reason he was tonight; it made him feel like a used car salesman.
“Hello,” he said simply.
“Hi there.” Her smile wasn’t quite firm at the edges.
Then she glanced around as if he surely must be looking for someone else. But he wasn’t. Blake knew exactly who he was meeting tonight.
Slowly he slid the napkin in front of her on the table and gave her a moment to get a good look. Her brows went up, then she leaned in for a closer look. Step One accomplished.
He’d made a sketch of her on the white scrap. Her face was in profile, and dead accurate, though the drawing lacked the vibrant color of her auburn hair and the multihued strings of lights decorating the large room.
He pitched his voice slightly louder to be heard over the music. “A woman this beautiful shouldn’t be sitting on the sidelines.”
The muscles in her throat worked as if she had to swallow a couple of times before she answered. “Is that a remark about my physical appearance or your artistic prowess?”
“Both?” he answered, surprised at her response. Most women would have gushed over the gift or been flattered by his remarks. He’d never been questioned over a drawing before.
Despite that, she rubbed her finger over the edges of the sketch. Finally she looked up with a small smile that seemed genuine. “How long did it take you to draw this?”
He shrugged. “About five minutes.”
“At least you aren’t too invested as a stalker,” she said, raising a single brow as if in challenge.
Blake was shocked enough to laugh. Definitely not what he’d expected. Neither was her voice. On the deep side, slightly husky, it evoked images of mystery and sex. The opposite of her young, bright presence.
She ducked her face down for a moment, before glancing up at him through thick lashes. “I probably wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.”
“Definitely not.” But she could keep talking all she wanted.
“I knew I’d never fit in here.”
On their surface, the words could be taken as if she were teasing, just making polite conversation, but the way she worried her bottom lip with the edge of her teeth told him otherwise. “First time?” he asked.
She nodded, causing the colored lights to reflect off the glorious red of her hair. Blake had the sudden urge to see it down around her shoulders, rather than pulled back from the heart shape of her face. His lips suddenly felt dry. “Me, too,” he murmured.
To his surprise, she leaned a little closer. “So you’re not from around here?”
“Yes—” Suddenly the music cut out, making Blake’s voice sound loud. “Yes, I am from here, but it’s been a while. Care to be new together?”
Again her teeth pressed against the fullness of her lower lip, causing blood to rush into the curve as she released it. “My friends will be back soon.”
Blake ignored the subtle rejection. “Good, then they can watch me not stalk you on the dance floor.”
Suddenly the music started up again, this time with an exuberant trumpet player in the lead.
He moved in closer to make himself heard. Leaning toward her ear, he asked, “Would you like to dance?”
Her breath caught, trapped inside her throat as she swallowed once more. Then her body gave a quick shiver, though it was far from cold in the room. Blake should be grateful for her reaction, this confirmation that she wasn’t immune to him, but instead he felt a strange mixture of grim determination and melting heat low in his belly. Did she feel the same attraction as he found trickling through his unprepared consciousness?
Madison’s gaze swung longingly toward the dance floor. Until now, the lively sound of jazz tunes had filled the air all night but she hadn’t once approached the dance floor.
“Well, I don’t think so.”
To his shock, she pulled back a couple of inches. “What’s the matter? Part of coming to a dance party is to dance.”
“I think people come to parties for a lot of different reasons,” she said, glancing down as she ran her finger over the edge of the drawing once more. “To socialize, to drink, to eat, to be seen…” She paused, and he swore he saw a flush creep over her cheeks, even in the dim light.
A woman who still blushed? Blake couldn’t remember the last time he’d dealt with one of those. Before he could confirm it, she glanced the other way. Maybe to look for her friends? Maybe to hide the evidence?
He wasn’t sure, but part of him, the part that had been watching her tonight, wanted to know for sure. In fact, the more he watched, the more he wanted to know. And that interest made him even more uncomfortable with what he was doing here tonight.
“I’m Blake Boudreaux, by the way,” he said.
To his relief, no recognition showed in her expression.
“I’m Madison.” She seemed to relax a little before she asked, “Did you move away for work?”
Oh, she was gonna make him earn that dance, wasn’t she? “More like life management.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Leaving allowed me to have a life.” He softened his unexpected answer with as charming a grin as he could muster.
Madison cocked her head to the side, awakening an urge to kiss her delicate chin. He straightened just a little. “I’m just visiting long enough to handle a family issue.”
She nodded, the move containing an odd wisdom considering her youth. “Those aren’t easy.”
“Never, but they are the reason we drink and have fun.”
The laugh that came from her surprised him. No giggles for this girl. Instead she gave a full-bodied laugh that made tingles run down his spine. She didn’t try to hide her enjoyment of his little joke or keep her response polite.
“So how about that dance?”
Suddenly a strange look came across her face—a combination of surprise and panic and almost fear. This time her retreat was obvious. Blake sat stunned as she mumbled, “I… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean…” She waved her hand in front of her as if to erase her response but inadvertently bumped her drink and knocked it over.
“Oh, my. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Blake wasn’t sure why, but he reached out to grasp her hands in his. “It’s okay, Madison.”
She started to smile, but then her face contorted and she jerked her hands away. “Good night,” she said, then turned on her heel and ran into the crowd.
Blake stared for a moment in confusion. They’d seemed to be having a good time. She wasn’t as comfortable with men coming up to her as he’d expected, but she hadn’t shown any signs of hating him during the conversation. What had gone wrong? This was not at all how he’d expected tonight to turn out. But then again, not much about Madison had turned out