Chapter Nine
All his life, Zeke had heard about the Cattlemen’s Ball. He had never really been interested in attending—not that he had would’ve thought there was any chance, even if he had wanted to go. And even if he had imagined a night of dancing at the Ritz, it wouldn’t have been under anything like these circumstances.
For one thing, if he’d ever had a fantasy about dating Sophie Daniels, it would not have involved escorting her to a charity ball in Dallas.
This is not a date, he reminded himself yet again. If I can’t remember that, how can I expect anyone else to?
Now was not the time to be thinking of that, however. Right now, he needed to pretend that it was a date. Sophie tucked her hand through his elbow as they entered the ballroom. She smiled for the cameras, and he tried to follow her lead. Luckily, the cameras in here seem to be wielded by photographers employed to photograph the event, rather than news media photographers. A small stage at one end of the ballroom was set up for what Tor had told him would be an auction later in the evening.
Waiters in black carrying trays circled through the room, offering canapés and drinks to the men in tuxedos and the women in ball gowns. When they picked Sophie up, Zeke had been too anxious to notice much about what she wore under her wrap, other than noticing the quick flash of silver in the dress. Now he could see that it was a stunning silver blue that brought out the sparkle in her brown eyes and the gleaming chestnut highlights her hair.
She looked… right in this setting.
Of course, he’d thought much the same thing that afternoon when he came inside to find her standing at the cabin window, wearing that hideous brown dress and pressing her fingertips against the glass and staring out across the Texas landscape.
Maybe it was just the costume. Tonight she wore a ball gown, so she looked like she belonged in the ballroom. This afternoon, she had been wearing a dress—a costume, literally—fashioned after a frontierswoman’s dress, so a cabin suited her then.
A dance floor on the far side of the room held several twirling couples.
“Do you dance?” Sophie turned those brown eyes toward him, and he found himself wanting to say yes to whatever she asked. He forced himself to think before he answered, however.
“I two-step a little,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug.
“Oh.” Sophie’s face fell. “I don’t know that one.”
“It’s easy enough,” Zeke said. “I might be able to teach you if they played the right kind of music.”
Tor leaned in from behind them, where he and Leta had just arrived. “Don’t believe a word he says, Sophie,” the billionaire said. “Unless he’s forgotten everything he used to know, he’s a damn fine dancer.” He cut his eyes toward his employee. “And this is the Cattlemen’s Ball. They will be playing appropriate music for a two-step.”
At that moment, the band struck up an acoustic version of “Waltz Across Texas with You”.
“I believe that is my cue to ask you to dance,” Zeke said. He held out his hand with a flourish and bowed in as ostentatious a way as he could manage.
Sophie’s true laugh pealed out of her, and Zeke stood up, grinning.
With a curtsy, Sophie placed her hand in his and said, “Why, thank you, kind sir,” in her best faux-Texan accent—which was actually an excellent imitation of the voices Zeke heard every day.
She’s a great actress, he realized again.
As they strolled toward the dance floor, Zeke said, “Do I need to teach you to waltz, too?”
“Absolutely not. I’ve had years of dance training—all part of being an actress.”
She held herself like a dancer, Zeke realized. She wasn’t very tall, but she was slim and strong, and she stood with perfect posture. She was a dream as a dance partner.
Hell, for that matter, she was a dream as any kind of partner, as far as he could tell.
Until he tried to teach her the swing version of the Texas two-step.
She did fine with the basic two-step, both slow and fast. “I don’t see why they’re both called the two-step, though,” she said. “They’re different dances.”
“They both have a variation on two steps.”
“But the other one is more like the foxtrot than it is like this step.”
Zeke snorted. “You think we should lobby to have the name changed? Call it the Texas Foxtrot instead?”
“Yes.” She grinned widely, her eyes twinkling up at him, and it was as if Zeke were the only man in the world.
I could get used to this.
If only that were possible.
When he tried to add turns and dips into the dance, though, Sophie seemed to lose all dance ability.
As soon as he moved his hand from her fingertips to her waist to show her the direction of the turn, she stumbled and tripped, falling into him.
Part of him wanted to slow the moment down to look at it closely—he was almost certain the zing he’d felt through his hand and up his arm had affected her, too.
At the same time, he wanted to fast-forward to the next touch, and the next, and the one after that.
In the end, he opted simply to enjoy what time he had with her.
And to tease her a bit.
“What happened to the woman who had years of dance training?” Zeke demanded, his voice faux-indignant. “And why have you replaced her?”
“No. No more,” she gasped through her laughter. “I give up. I quit. I cannot keep up with your strange Texas dances. Let’s go get a drink.”
Sophie was still clinging to his arms, doubled over in laughter, when Tor met them at the edge of the dance floor, his expression solemn.
He had only seen that particular look on his boss’s face when things were going particularly awry. Whatever had caused Tor’s frown, it couldn’t be good. Zeke glanced around to locate Leta, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw her standing several feet away, chatting with a small group of other women. “What is it?” he asked.
Tor gestured them toward a secluded area near one of the windows. When they all got there, he stood facing the lights below, leaning toward Zeke and Sophie just enough to keep their conversation private. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and handed it to Sophie. “Your publicist tracked down my number to call—apparently spent quite a bit of time doing it, too, so all of this is been up for a while.” With a tap of his thumb, he brought the phone to life and pulled up a series of images. Sophie gasped and started flipping through them so quickly that Zeke could barely tell what they were.
“What’s going on?” Zeke asked. Sophie handed him the phone wordlessly, then turned to Tor.
“Has Leta seen this yet?” she asked.
Zeke barely heard Tor’s negative response as he began flipping through the images himself. They were all photos of Tor and Sophie. It took a moment for Zeke to realize that all of the photos have been taken as the four of them had walked into the hotel for this ball. However, the images on the website at all of carefully cropped so that only Tor and Sophie showed. There was no sign of Zeke or Leta.
The bulk of the photos showed different angles of only a few seconds when Tor and Sophie had been speaking. But they were all grouped under the heading “The Billionaire and the Movie Star.”
“I am so sorry,” Sophie said. “This was not my intention at all.”
Tor opened his mouth to respond, but Zeke was already speaking. “Of course it wasn’t. You didn’t even know that I knew Tor until after you had asked me about tonight.”
Tor blinked in surprise at Zeke’s sudden forcefulness, but took a step back as Zeke clasped Sophie’s hands in his. “I have an idea,” Zeke said. “Follow me.” Before he led her away, he leaned over and murmured something to Tor. The billionaire nodded and headed off in the opposite direction.
“Where we going?” Sophie asked.
“Back to try that two-step again.” This time, as he spun her out onto the dance floor, Zeke was determined to make sure it was perfect.
“So part of your plan for this evening was to take the focus off of your breakup with the rock star and make you less interesting by associating with someone normal? Right?” Zeke kept his voice down as he spoke.
“Yes. But that’s ruined now. We know those pictures don’t mean anything, and everyone here tonight has seen the dance with you all night long. But the only thing that matters in my job is the broader public perception.” She sounded despondent.
Zeke glanced over her shoulder and saw Tor leading one of the paid photographers toward the dance floor.
“Let’s see what we can do to change that perception,” Zeke murmured.
This time, when he dipped her back over his arm and brought her back up, he pulled her tight against his chest.
She had just enough time to glance up at him, startled, with those wide brown eyes before he leaned down and claimed her lips with his own.