Singer

A bottle of champagne is popped open, followed by Mel warning me, “You need to hurry. He’ll be here any minute.”

“I’m almost ready,” I shout from the bathroom. “Just one little”—she appears in the reflection with two glasses of bubbly, so I stop shouting—“touch up.”

“You look beautiful,” she says, smiling. “You’re gonna knock him on his ass.”

“I’m quite partial to that ass. I’d hate to see it injured.” I laugh.

“You are so far gone. Good sex will do that to a girl.”

I love having sex with Ethan. No one ever put my needs first . . . or even last when I think about my lame boyfriends of the past. “It’s not just the sex, Mel,” I reply a little too dreamily. So much so that I giggle inwardly.

“I love seeing this side of you. So happy.” She hip bumps me. “And goofy.”

“Goofy?”

“In the best of ways. Carefree. You look gorgeous.”

“This dress is gorgeous.” I smooth my hands down my waist and over my hips admiring the fine material.

“It’s not the dress that makes the woman. It’s the woman in love who makes the dress.”

I take a glass from the counter and tap it against hers. “Now that I’ll toast to.”

We both sip, then she says, “Mike and I decided we’re staying in.”

“I thought you wanted to go out. It’s Saturday night. You live for Saturday night.”

Shrugging, she sits on the side of the tub and watches me finish up. “He said he wanted to stay in.”

“And so it begins. Women are so adaptable. We mold ourselves to what we think men want—”

“I don’t mind staying in. We’re going to watch movies.”

“But what do you really want to do?” I ask, eyeing her in the reflection of the mirror.

“Dance. He’s not a dancer, so he doesn’t like going to the clubs. But he’s a nice guy and I like being treated nicely. He’s different from the losers I’ve dated.”

“You deserve nice, my friend. I just want you happy too.”

“I don’t need to dance. I just like to dance. There’s a difference. I also don’t want to be alone the rest of my life. Anyway,” she says, standing and walking to the door. “What guy likes to go to a club? Not many, so compromising on this may mean he’ll compromise for me on something else. That’s how relationships work.” She leaves on that note, whistling as she walks away.

A knock echoes into the apartment. Ethan. Giddiness runs through my body. I quickly finish applying my lipstick while listening to Melanie greet him. “Well, don’t you look handsome?”

She sounds like my mother talking to my prom date, which makes me laugh. I toss my lipstick in my purse, slip on a pair of very sexy four-inch sparkling Jimmy Choo heels that mysteriously appeared in the back seat of the car when Aaron picked me up after getting my hair done earlier. I was afraid to search online to see the price, but Mel happily did and warned me not to look, to just enjoy. She also made me promise she could borrow them along with the dress when she had a Cinderella event to attend.

I could stand here for days and stare at this deep purple dress and the incredible shoes, but I think it’s best to hurry and let him stare instead. I’m going for jaw dropping, and he doesn’t disappoint.

Jaw dropping goes both ways.

Standing in the doorway of my apartment is the most attractive man I have ever seen. Black tailored tuxedo, clearly custom-made for his trim, but athletic build. A bow tie wraps around his neck that matches the midnight sky, and a perfectly pressed white pintucked shirt spans the opening of the jacket. I’ve never been one to use the term debonair, but James Bond has nothing on the strikingly handsome, debonair Ethan Everest.

“Hi,” I say, breathless, though I had plenty seconds before he stole them from me.

“Hello, Singer.” With his eyes still on mine, he says, “You look stunning.”

The blush I’ve started calling the Everest blush, since he’s the only person who can summon it, rises from my tummy covering my chest and higher to my cheeks. “Thank you.”

With a man this handsome looking at me like I make his world a better place, I almost fail to notice the flowers in his hand—gorgeous pale pink peonies wrapped with greenery in tissue paper with a deep pink bow. “These reminded me of you.”

I think my cheeks must now match the ribbon instead of the beautiful blooms. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

Melanie is right there, taking them from me. “I’ll put these in a vase for you.”

Ethan offers, “Can we give you a ride somewhere?”

She waves us off. “No. I’m good. Low-key night for Mike and me. You guys go and have fun and scoot-a-loo.”

I give her a hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She whispers in my ear, “Can’t wait to hear all the dirty details.”

I’m very aware that she said that loud enough for Ethan to hear. He chuckles, confirming my notion, and replies, “Here’s hoping I don’t disappoint then.”

She says, “I’m sure you have no problem when it comes to pleasing a woma—”

“Okay,” I end it before this conversation gets embarrassing. Grabbing Ethan’s sleeve, I tug. “Goodnight, Mel.”

As soon as the door is shut, I joke, “Now you see why I can’t take her anywhere.”

“She’s great and has a good sense of humor.”

“Despite embarrassing me, she is. The best.”

Outside, Aaron is waiting by the car and opens the door for us. “Good evening, Aaron.”

“Good evening, Ms. Davis.”

“Stop charming the ladies, Aaron. You’re making me look bad.”

“I’m sure you hold your own quite well, Mr. Everest.”

“I’ve always liked you, Aaron. You’re good for my ego.”

“That’s what I’m here for. That, and driving.”

Ethan unbuttons his jacket and slides in next to me. The door is shut, and suddenly my heart leaps from being alone with this man . . . well, as alone as we can be with Aaron up in the front.

His cufflink catches the light, and I take hold of his wrist for a better look. “Baseball? I think you’re obsessed.”

“I used to play in high school. I wasn’t good enough for the minors.”

“But you tried out?”

A look of awkwardness crosses his strong features and he looks down. “Yes. Twice.” When he looks up at me again, he adds, “Twice was enough. It was time I put my other skills to use.”

“To create your company?”

“Yes. My peers thought I was a dumb jock. I wasn’t. I made the honor roll every semester, but I kept that hidden. I knew I would be made fun of if they found out.”

“Kids are cruel.”

“Kids are predictable, and I like coming from the underdog position in sports and everything else. It gives me a good vantage point. Another reason is once you settle high up on that pedestal, you become lazy. That’s when you’re vulnerable and weak. Business, like baseball, is strategic.”

I lean back, engrossed by his road to success, and ask, “Where did you go to college?”

“Princeton.”

“New Jersey is a long way from Texas.”

“Best decision I made. The website had grown, and by the time I started my sophomore year, I had the site running and had made millions in ads that ran along the borders of each page you clicked on. By my senior year, I owned four divisional companies under one umbrella corporation. I’d already made enough to not work the rest of my life if I chose.”

“That’s amazing. You made your dreams come true.”

When he laughs, it’s hardy, good to hear. “I can buy a baseball team, but I can’t buy my way onto a team.”

“I’m sure you could.”

“Ha! I wouldn’t want to be on a team that would want me.”

“You don’t seem the loner type, but you are self-deprecating.”

“Underdog,” he says, sending me a wink and sexy smirk. “What brought you to New York?”

The traffic is normal for Manhattan, barely flowing. “I wanted to prove to my friends and family that I was bigger than the suburbs and Pagely Whitehead.”

“What’s a Pagely Whitehead?”

“A Pagely Whitehead is the guy who lived next door.”

“Ahhh. The boy next door. Let me guess. He had a crush on you?”

“Boy, did he. And he had my family convinced we were meant to be together.”

“You never wanted to be Mrs. Whitehead?”

“Oh, God no. He was awful, and smelly. He’s now a tax inspector for the Revenue Commission in Denver.”

Ethan’s face scrunches. “Tax guys aren’t my favorite people. I pay a lot of taxes and pay the financial guys and lawyers to keep things straight and legal.”

“Well, guess we have something in common because tax guys aren’t my favorite either.”

The car stops in front of the hotel, and a valet opens the door for us. Ethan sticks his arm out and I take it. “Goodnight, Aaron.”

“Goodnight, Ms. Davis.”

“So formal in front of the boss.”

“Keeping up appearances,” he replies with a grin.

As soon as we enter the hotel, our arms fall to our sides. Ethan whispers, “You’re listed in their media section as a family friend.”

“That gives me a lot of wiggle room to flirt.”

I’m hit with a playful glare. “That flirting better be directed at me, or I won’t be able to keep this cover.”

“Two way street, mister.”

Inside the hotel, we catch an elevator just before it closes. It’s crowded, but he says, “You look incredibly beautiful tonight.”

No lowered voice.

No whispering just for me.

Full volume as if we’re the only two in the elevator.

Tapping his hand with mine, I reply quietly, “Thank you,” so only he can hear. Free from the elevator, we walk to the reception area. “You’re not very good at this friend thing.”

“You make it difficult to pretend I don’t find you utterly breathtaking.”

“We can find each other attractive. We just can’t act on it.”

“True.”

Brushing my hand across his, I add, “We’ll make up for it later though.”

“Want to skip this party?”

The doors are open when we approach, and I’ve never seen such a glamorous party in my life. My mouth opens as I take in the gold-room lit by beautiful chandeliers and candlelight. “Can we stay for a while?”

“Ye—”

“Ethan Everest, I thought that was you . . .” A woman with a blond bob chatters on, speaking a million words a minute and holding Ethan’s arms like he’ll escape if she doesn’t. She never introduces herself to me, and if I’m reading Ethan correctly, he doesn’t know who she is.

I stand politely to the side, and from their brief conversation, she missed him in The Hamptons last summer but looks forward to catching up with him soon.

He extricates himself before she has a chance to get clingier than she already is, and leads me inside the ballroom. The gleaming crystal chandeliers are eye-catching and people are dressed to the nines.

Sneaking a peek at Ethan, I want to kiss him, to thank him, to hug him for making me feel so beautiful, for making me feel like I belong. Tonight I’m his escort, a friend of his, or a work associate. I’ll go along with whatever he wants or needs me to be. “I’ve never been to something this fancy.”

“It’s not that fancy under the blinding lights.”

We start walking again. Tossing his words about, I say, “I feel like I’m supposed to read between the lines.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s no help.”

Our gazes catch and a twinkle resides in his, making me smile. His hand touches my lower back. “I like to keep you guessing.”

“That you do, all the time.”

When we arrive at our table, one of the first things I notice are assigned seats, and mine is three away from Ethan’s. My gaze darts to him. His eyes lay heavy on mine already. Reaching down, he takes his place card and swaps it with the person to the right of my chair. “We’re sitting next to each other.”

Just as I start to sit, his fingers brush along my wrist, and he whispers, “Would you like to dance?”

“Yes,” I reply, but it tends toward more of a purr against his skin, skin I want to lick, to nip, and other things that will lead to us being naked together.

He takes my purse and sets it on the table before leading me to the dance floor. Pulling me close, we begin to sway unhurried. The song is instrumental and not particularly slow, but with Ethan’s hand on my waist and holding my other in his like he owns it, it could be “When the Saints Go Marching In,” and I wouldn’t know the difference. Every song is a love song when our bodies are pressed together and his cheek is against mine.

We’ve become a slow burn on a hot night. The air in here is so combustible I worry my heart will be obliterated by it.

Our moment together is interrupted when a dark-haired man with darker eyes starts patting Ethan on the back. Ethan takes a step back from me, our hands falling to our sides—the perfect picture of platonic. A look in his eyes resembles the sadness I feel when I’m homesick. His lips move, but the words are silent, “I’m sorry.”

Turning to the intruder, the man’s boisterous voice overwhelms the intimacy Ethan and I were sharing. “Good to see you, Everest. How’s business?”

“Stellar. Lucas McCoy, this is Singer Davis.”

His eyes widen as he gives me a once-over that strips me of any respect. “The very lovely Singer Davis. Maybe you’ll save a dance for me?”

Ethan responds before I have a chance, “Her dance card is full. Sorry, McCoy.”

Lucas laughs. Ethan doesn’t. Even from a foot away, I can feel the tension between them. Their friendliness is only surface deep, if that. I move closer to Ethan and press my arm to his. He glances at me and smiles. Lucas gets the not-so subtle hint and says, “Let’s catch up sometime over drinks.”

“Sure thing.” Ethan shakes his hand, but that’s where the courtesy ends.

Lucas looks at me and says, “If your dance card frees up, I’m happy to fill the spot.”

I’m not given a chance to reply before he walks off.

Ethan shakes his head and asks, “Would you like a drink?”

“I have a feeling we could both use one.”

“Sorry about that. He sued me years ago about cargo-hold rights at the shipyard in East Bay.” His hand returns to my back, the heat seeping through the thin fabric of the dress as we weave our way to the bar. I feel his fingers wrap around my waist, giving me a squeeze. “He lost the lawsuit, and he’s been trying to take what’s mine ever since.”

I’m tempted to ask if that extends to people, but by the show Lucas McCoy just displayed, I don’t have to. Ethan orders a bourbon straight and champagne for me.

“What’s on your mind?” Ethan asks as we step to the side where it’s a little dimmer and much quieter.

“This party is so beautiful—the ballroom, the tables. Everything is dazzling.”

“You’re the most dazzling one here.”

“You say that so easily without looking around.”

“I don’t have to look around. You far outshine them all.”

“You’re very charming.”

“I’m not trying to charm you . . . well, I am, but I’m also telling the truth.” He nudges me lightly with his elbow and lowers his voice. “Take the compliment.”

With a nod of kindness, I reply, “Thank you.”

“They’re serving dinner. Ready to eat?”

He offers his hand then drops it. I say, “I’m afraid I don’t think we’re doing a good job of being just friends.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.”

I don’t want to hurt his cases or draw unwanted attention to him. “I guess we should try harder.”

“Yeah,” he sighs.

Once we’re seated, I’m introduced to the other guests assigned to our table. Everyone seems to know Ethan already, and he flawlessly introduces each person until Lucas sits across from us. Ethan stops, and Lucas starts to rule the roost from the other side of the table. He doesn’t have a date, but he’s seated between two beautiful women who are more than happy to give him their attention. Anytime my eyes meet his, my stomach twists, and I look away quickly.

Intuitively, Ethan reaches his hand down to find mine under the table. Our fingers lace and our hands rest on my thigh. I like the weight of him, of us, on me. I like the warmth on my thigh where the dress has fallen to the side.

When our food is served, our hands release, and pretending he didn’t just knock my world from its axis, I ask, “Do you come to many events like this?”

“No. Generally, I prefer to make my donations quieter, but if it helps to raise more money, I’ll attend a few.”

“Although this is a beautiful event, I don’t understand how spending tens of thousands of dollars on events raises more money than using that money directly.”

“People like to be seen.”

“So it’s part ego, part philanthropy that brings them to charity balls?”

He chuckles. “I’ve wondered the same thing myself. How’s the food?”

“Very good.”

Setting his fork down, he leans in and asks, “Would you hate me if I want to leave after dinner?”

With a smile from the possibility that lies ahead on my face, I reply, “Only if you were planning on taking me home.”

His eyebrows rise as he wipes his napkin over his mouth and sets it down. “Don’t worry about that. I have no intention of doing such a thing.”

I find myself eating as if they’re going to take my plate away before I finish. Logically I know that’s not the case, but damn if I’m not ready to see where this night leads.