Fairytale (18 page)

She turned a little to look up at him. “I’m
not sure I believe that. It’s hard to imagine you afraid of
anything.”

His gaze roamed her face. “Oh, I am. I’m
afraid of you, Brigit.” His hands rose, and his fingers moved
slowly through her hair. “And I’m even more afraid that in another
few seconds, I’m not going to be the least bit interested in going
to this thing tonight.”

She bit her lip, because she was rapidly
losing interest in going out as well. “You said your attendance was
required.”

“It is.”

She clasped his hands in hers, and pulled
them gently from her hair, holding them, looking down at his long,
slender fingers as they twined with hers. “Then we should go.”

“If you insist.” He closed his hands around
hers and pulled her to her feet.

“I can’t go like this.” She glanced over her
shoulder at the mirror once more.

“Sure you can. In fact...I dare you.”

“Y—you
dare
me?” It was difficult to
speak when he was looking at her that way. The touch of those blue
eyes on her skin was doing odd things to her pulse and her
breathing all over again. All it took was a glance...at least, when
he was looking at her the way he was looking at her right now.

“Yeah. I dare you. What do you say?”

His words, his breaths, caressed her lips
because they stood so close, and a brand new shiver worked through
her. Only the slightest movement would bring their lips together.
And God, what would
that
be like?

Forcing her gaze up, away from his mouth, she
saw the mischief and the challenge in his eyes. It touched
something inside her. Her own wall of mischief, she supposed. And
she smiled. “Let’s go.”

Adam was bored. His eyes had a glazed-over
look about them as he stood, the obligatory glass in his hand,
discussing admissions policies with a stuffy-looking man who was
thirty pounds overweight. The place made Brigit feel inferior, to
say the least. Educated, sophisticated types lingered everywhere.
The very rich and the very literate. They sipped champagne from
fluted glasses and spoke about politics and travel.

On a raised platform, a string quartet played
classical music, and she couldn’t begin to imagine anyone dancing
to it. Dainty round tables stood at strategic points, laden with
tiny and nearly inedible lumps that claimed to be hors d’oeuvres.
Very nice to look at, but worthless as sustenance. There were bowls
of nonalcoholic punch scattered here and there. Neon-colored stuff.
Green, yellow, and blood red. Yum, she thought.

The women in the room represented the woman
she’d always wanted to be. Sleek and polished. Not a hair out of
place. Beautiful, smart, successful women who always knew what to
say and what to do. How to act. Which fork to use. They were
respected. They were admired.

And Brigit felt more like the homeless,
dirty-faced street kid she’d been than she had in a very long time.
She stood rigid, back ramrod stiff, chin high, and she tried to
pretend. Maybe, she thought, she could fool them. Maybe they
wouldn’t see the street brat beneath the facade. Maybe. If she were
very careful and very quiet.

“Anything wrong?”

She glanced up at Adam, startled by his voice
coming so close to her ear. The man he’d been talking with had
wandered off, leaving them alone together in this crowd of glitter
and wealth and intelligence.

She shook her head, looking down. “I don’t
fit in here, Adam. I shouldn’t have come.”

He smiled. It surprised and then shook her.
He was so handsome when he smiled. And he looked incredible in his
dark suit. His shoulders even broader, his waist narrower than
before. He fit in here. He was born to this kind of gathering.

His hand closed around hers. “You’re
right.

You don’t fit in here. Everyone here is a
phony, Brigit. Hiding behind a mask. Using either their money or
their degrees to make up for their lack of character. Or even soul.
Look around.”

She did. And as she did he nodded toward a
couple who stood near the ghoulish green punch. “Those two like
their cocaine more than their money. They’re probably high right
now.”

Her eyes widened, but he was already steering
her gaze elsewhere. “And there’s Jack. Alone tonight. Probably gave
his wife a few bruises she couldn’t hide with makeup.”

“No.”

“Yes. And the fat guy over in the corner?” He
nodded in that direction. “He’s only been out of prison for six
months. Embezzling. And see that incredibly intelligent-looking
woman by the stage? The one with the slicked-back hair and the
glasses? She likes sleeping with her freshmen students.”

Brigit gave her head a shake.

“And the guy who just went—”

“No. I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Okay. Point is, Brigit, they’re just people.
Good and bad in all of them. Brains and money don’t make them any
better than you.”

He wouldn’t think that if he knew the truth.
That she was a thief. A criminal. A woman out to steal, even from
him. She lowered her chin to her chest in abject shame.

His forefinger caught it, lifted it, and his
eyes probed hers in that way that made her tingle all over. “You’re
the most beautiful woman here tonight, Brigit. That’s why they’re
all staring.”

She shook her head in denial, felt her cheeks
burn.

“You are.”

“Adam? Aren’t you going to introduce me?” The
deep voice came from just behind her, and Brigit turned too fast,
as if caught doing something she shouldn’t, when in fact, all she’d
been doing was drowning in Adam’s eyes.

“Hello, Mac,” Adam said, pumping the man’s
hand, and turning to Brigit. “Brigit Malone, meet Mackenzie
Cordair. Mac, for short. He’s an old friend of mine.”

Brigit offered her hand and Mac took it. He
smiled at her, but there was something in his eyes. Some
questioning, searching kind of interest that made her
uncomfortable. He wanted something. She could feel it.

“Good to meet you, Brigit,” he said.

“Likewise.” She narrowed her eyes, peering
into his, seeing goodness and honor there. A strong sense of
loyalty. No menace or evil. Then why this feeling? She felt he was
a threat to her.

“I’ve heard a bit about you,” Mac said,
snatching a drink from a passing tray. “You’re Adam’s new
boarder.”

“Yes.” She took a sip of her own drink, and
its sweetness made her grimace. “And what do you do, Mr.
Cordair?”

His brows went up as if the question had
taken him by surprise. Adam cleared his throat, and Mac seemed to
hesitate before he answered. “I’m a teacher, like Adam. Only, I
teach over at the elementary school, instead of here at the
university.”

“How nice.”

He was not being honest with her. She didn’t
know what he was hiding, but there was something, and the knowledge
scared her.

So find out what he’s up to, the wild one
inside whispered. You know you can.

She shouldn’t, though. She shouldn’t. He was
Adam’s friend.

A friend who’s lying through his teeth. Check
him out, for heaven’s sake. Don’t be such a wimp.

Her fingers inched nearer to his pocket,
while she distracted them by gesturing with her other hand, and
commenting on the music and the food. Inside, she felt the old
excitement welling up. It had always been a challenge to try and a
thrill to succeed. And damn, but that wild thing inside was getting
a charge out of this.

The wallet practically fell into her hand,
and she couldn’t restrain her satisfied smile. She’d just check his
i.d., and then she’d know...

Adam was staring down into her eyes when she
looked his way. Staring at her with a hunger that frightened her,
and something else that looked a little like trust.

God, he couldn’t let himself trust her. Not
when she was about to steal from him.

Guilt swelled like a tidal wave, and
overwhelmed her wariness of Mac Cordair and his motives. She bent
over, straightened up again, and held out the wallet. “I think you
dropped this.”

Mac’s eyes widened in shock, then narrowed on
her. As if he knew full well he hadn’t dropped the wallet.

The place was stifling all of a sudden, and
that knowing look in Mac Cordair’s eyes frightened her. She had to
get out. “You two go ahead and catch up,” she managed. “I’m going
to find the powder room.”

And before either of them could say another
word, she turned and lost herself in the crowd. She didn’t go to
any powder room though. Instead she made her way to the nearest
exit, and slipped outside, into the parking lot. The fresh, night
air on her face revitalized her, gave her a little more sanity and
strength.

She leaned back against the cool wall of the
building, staring up at the star-speckled sky and trying to shake
the feeling of impending doom that had settled over her in
there.

And she heard the door open and swing slowly
closed, and she knew it was Adam who’d come to join her.

“Will you promise not to laugh if I tell you
something?” She said it without turning to look at him.

He came closer, stood beside her, one arm
sliding around her waist to draw her tight to his side. “I can’t
imagine I’d laugh at anything you had to tell me, Brigit. But yeah,
I promise.”

Biting her lower lip, she worked up her
nerve. “I...I hate crowds. Mainly because...because I
know
things about people. When I look into their eyes, I can see...” She
closed her eyes and simply blurted it. “I can see inside them. What
they’re feeling. Who they really are.”

“You see inside them?”

She expected ridicule, but there was only
confusion.

“Your friend, Mac, he wasn’t being honest. I
don’t know why, because he seems like an honest man. but he was
keeping something from us...or at least, from me.”

She dared a peek up into Adam’s eyes. He was
looking at her as if she’d told him that pigs could fly. And she
lowered her face. “It’s always been that way. I’m weird, Adam. I’m
not like normal people. Never have been. I don’t—”

“What do you see when you look into my
eyes?”

Her head snapped up sharply. The question
startled her.

“Tell me.”

Oh, God, why had she confided in him like
that? He couldn’t possibly believe her. Never would. He was playing
along now, because it amused him. Nothing more.

“Tell me,” he said again, and she made the
mistake of looking at him. Right into those dark sapphire eyes,
with the occasional fleck of turquoise. So changeable.

Mesmerizing and so very sharp.

“I see goodness,” she heard herself whisper,
as if she couldn’t help but answer him. “Under a mountain of anger
and rage. A mountain built on pain. That’s what I see most of in
your eyes, Adam. A pain that never dies.”

He blinked as if she’d slapped him.

“I want to make it better,” she whispered.
Her hand drifted upward, and her fingertips stroked his corded
neck. And then she realized she’d spoken her thoughts aloud, and
her eyes widened. She started to turn away, mortified, but he
caught her shoulder, stopping her.

“I have a feeling,” he whispered, “that
you’re only going to make it worse.”

She closed her eyes, shook her head in
denial, but knew he was right. And how on earth could he know that
she’d hurt him in the end?

“Problem is, I don’t have brains enough to
let that bother me.”

She hadn’t noticed the change in the music,
the way it had got suddenly louder as someone opened a window. But
Adam had. And before she’d given her consent, his arm crept around
her waist, and he drew her close to him. His fingers twined with
hers, and he turned in a circle.

She put her hand on his shoulder, lifted her
head, eyes widening in surprise. He drew a breath, expelled it as a
sigh, and shook his head. “What the hell am I gonna do with you,
Brigit Malone?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t, because
being in his arms this way was too potent an experience not to rob
her of her powers of speech. She clung to him, and they danced. And
it seemed to Brigit that he held her a little closer, and then a
little closer still.

The music wove a spell around her as magic as
anything Akasha had to offer. And by the time the song ended, her
head was resting against Adam’s chest. She could feel the pounding
of his heart beating in perfect time. Her arms had curled around
his neck, and his clasped her waist tightly, so their bodies were
pressed together from hip to head. She felt him bend a little, felt
his face pressing into her hair. She was in a dream, floating amid
an ocean of stars. And no one existed, no crowd filled the room on
the other side of the nearby door. She was alone in a glittering
galaxy, wrapped in Adam’s arms, and she’d be content to stay right
there forever.

Someone cleared a throat, very loudly, and
she felt Adam stiffen. He stopped moving. But she clung tighter,
keeping her eyes closed and having no desire to leave his arms.

“Angel, the song’s over.” He spoke near her
ear, one hand stroking her hair. “From the way everyone seems to be
emerging from the building and staring, I’d say the party is,
too.”

“Mmm.” Then his words sank in, and her eyes
flew open. She stepped away, whipping her head around, seeing
several pairs of eyes glued to the two of them, and her face
burned. People made their way to their cars, gawking at the couple
who’d still been dancing to music only they could hear.

“Can we leave now, Adam?” she whispered, head
lowering.

“Damn right we can.” His voice was coarse and
a little choked.

***

He didn’t know what the hell was happening.
It was...it was almost like magic. While he’d been dancing with
Brigit, he’d lost track of where he was...of
who
he was, for
Christ’s sake. The music had died away. The ground beneath his feet
had dissolved. He’d closed his eyes, but he’d still been able to
see. He and Brigit had been floating, dancing and floating, in a
midnight-blue sky that sparkled with diamond-like stars.