Neck & Neck (26 page)

Oh, that was nice and vague, Natalie thought. That ought to piss off Dean royally. Which, somehow she was certain, was exactly what Finn had intended to do. What she couldn’t figure out was why. Sure, Dean was smarmy and annoying as hell, but Finn had only met him that one time. It was enough to make anyone not want to cross paths with Dean again, but it wasn’t enough to generate the kind of hostility Finn clearly felt for the guy. She could practically feel the waves of animosity flowing off of him.

As if he’d read her mind and wanted to hammer that thought home, he added, “It was something he couldn’t miss. Something important.”

Translation, Natalie thought,
Your party isn’t important and is something Mulholland
can
miss.

“And since he knew you were expecting another couple for this thing,” Finn added dispassionately, “and probably paid some caterer through the nose for it, he didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

Translation, Natalie thought again,
He knows you’re spending a lot of money on his behalf and
still
doesn’t care enough to show up.

“So he sent me as his representative,” Finn concluded with even less concern. He nodded toward the blonde. “This is Danetta. She would have been Mr. Mulholland’s date for the evening. He didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t enjoy herself.”

Yeah, since he’d probably already bought and paid for her, anyway, Natalie thought uncharitably. In one way or another. Why shouldn’t Russell pass her along to his best friend for the night if he wouldn’t need her services himself?

“Hello,” Danetta said in a voice that sounded genuinely nice, with a smile that seemed genuinely warm. Damn her. “Thank you for having us, Mr. Waterman. It was so thoughtful of you. Russell is heartbroken that he couldn’t make it.”

Oh, fine,
Natalie thought.
Just be sweet and considerate and seem genuinely nice and warm. Damn you.

Dean, too, seemed to notice her genuine niceness and warmth—not to mention all her generous consexity—because his annoyance lightened at her comments. And her consexity. “Call me Dean,” he told her. Nicely. Warmly.

Something in his voice made Natalie brighten, because his tone dripped with the same sort of unctuous toadying he normally reserved for her. Even better, he nudged Finn out of the way to take Danetta’s hand in his, and Natalie could almost feel his smarminess oozing off of her and all over Danetta instead. And wow, did that feel good.

“Well, if Mr. Mulholland couldn’t make it tonight,” Dean said as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, “at least he was good enough to allow us the pleasure of your company.”

And then he led her toward the other couples and began making introductions, completely blowing off Finn. Obviously Antagonism Avenue was a two-way street, where every vehicle was driven by testosterone. Way past the speed limit. With a total disregard for pedestrians.

Man, Natalie was glad she was an estrogen-based unit.

Of course, by leading Danetta off the way he had, Dean was blowing off Natalie, too, but that was A-okay with her. Finn, however, would probably be POed that Dean had left him in the dust the way he had.

But when she turned to look at Finn, he wasn’t watching Dean steal his date—even if she was just a loaner. He was looking at Natalie, his gaze fixed on her face in a way that made him look . . .

Well,
hungry
was the word that came to mind just then. And of all the words that had appeared in Natalie’s head in italics tonight, that was the one that should have also been boldfaced, too. And capitalized. And underlined. And followed by at least three exclamation marks. Because
HUNGRY!!!
was the way she was suddenly feeling, too.

But then, she’d been feeling that way in a lowercase, uni talicized, lightfaced way ever since the last time she’d seen him. Thanks to that touch that hadn’t quite been a touch, that kiss that hadn’t quite been a kiss, and that good-bye that hadn’t quite been a good-bye, she’d spent the last couple of days visiting the states of confusion, annoyance, and irritation, and finding none of them particularly scenic.

Wow, had that last meeting just happened yesterday morning? she asked herself, amazed. Not even two days had passed? Funny, but it felt like forever. Nevertheless, she could still remember every detail of their time together, from the moment she woke up in his bed in his hotel suite—oh, all
right
, from the moment she
came to
in his bed in his hotel suite—to that too-brief, crystalline moment in her kitchen when she’d begun to think things between them were moving too fast and headed farther than either of them should probably let things go. When she’d realized she
wanted
things to move faster and farther between them than either of them should let them go. Because it had been way too long since Natalie had let herself do that. And because she’d never met a man like Finn before—so gorgeous and masculine and sexy and . . . and . . . and
potent
—and likely wouldn’t again.

And now here he was again, more potent than ever, when she’d been expecting and wanting—and needing—his employer to be here instead. Funny, though, how she wasn’t all that disappointed to see Finn Guthrie in place of Russell Mulholland. Funny how she wasn’t even thinking about Russell Mulholland at all.

“Natalie,” Finn said by way of a greeting, almost as if that were the only word he trusted himself to say.

Amazingly, she was able to stop herself from greeting him with,
Who the hell is the blonde?
and instead said, “Finn. What a surprise to find you here.”

Though, in hindsight, she thought, even if Russell had intended to come, he probably would have brought one of his security people with him. So she should have been expecting to see him again. Which she hadn’t been, of course. She’d just been hoping she would see him again, that was all. But it made sense that he would have been the one accompanying Russell tonight. Unless, she thought further with a mental chuckle, Danetta was—

The thought stopped right there. She turned around to see Dean still introducing her to his guests, looking for any telltale bulge under her dress that was anything but normal, natural consexity. Nope. No weapon there, unless it was strapped to the inside of her thigh, something that would have made her walk kind of funny, anyway, and the woman’s movements were as smooth as her looks. And her beaded gold clutch was too small to hold anything bigger than a paramecium, so no weapon there, either, unless it was an exploding tampon Q whipped up for her in MI6’s lab. But since she didn’t have a British accent, that wasn’t likely. Then again, she reminded herself, Finn didn’t carry a weapon with him. Except for his steely sexual magnetism.

Nevertheless, when Natalie turned around to look at him again, he was smiling at her in a way that told her she was dead on target. Danetta was indeed a member of the billionaire’s cadre of bodyguards.

“Every now and then,” he said, “Russell needs a beautiful escort to some function where it would be out of place for me or one of the other guys to keep close tabs. With Danetta by his side, no one could get near Russell if they tried. Her specialty is Krav Maga.”

Having no idea what that meant, Natalie told him, “Gee, I’ll have to ask her for the recipe before she leaves.”

He shook his head, his smile growing broader. “It’s a martial art form. Developed by the Israeli army. Suffice it to say that Danetta doesn’t need to carry a weapon. She
is
the weapon.”

Yeah, well, Natalie had already figured that part out. She’d just been thinking in terms of a different kind of warfare, that was all.

“So then you and she aren’t . . . ?”

His smile fell some. “Aren’t what?”

“Ummm . . .” Natalie said, stringing the word out over several time zones.

Finn looked past her at the group behind them, then back at her. “What? You mean, like, dating?”

“Of course I didn’t mean that,” she lied, striving for indignant, fearing it sounded more like insecure.

Finn returned his attention to her and said blandly, “If she and I were dating, don’t you think I’d go over there and remove Waterman’s hand from her ass?”

Natalie spun incredulously back around at that—even Dean wouldn’t be that crass this early in the evening—but he’d moved to the bar to fix Danetta a drink and was standing nowhere near her. When Natalie looked back at Finn in confusion, what little smile that had been playing about his lips was gone completely, and his expression was one of unmistakable annoyance. Before she had a chance to wonder about not only his mood swing but his comment about Dean, the latter was summoning her to join him at the bar.

Natalie went, not because she felt compelled to obey Dean’s edict, but because she thought maybe some distance between her and Finn might be a good idea at the moment, if for no other reason than that it might curb her
HUNGER!!!
a little. Unfortunately, her plan backfired, because Finn naturally followed, coming to a halt beside Danetta, and Natalie found herself wondering if the two of them might be an item despite his strange comment. Because he hadn’t exactly denied that he and Danetta were an item, had he? And even though Danetta was speaking to Tootie when Finn joined her, she looped her arm through his with much familiarity, as if it were something she did often.

Dean finished mixing Danetta’s drink—a Manhattan by the looks of it—but as he turned to deliver it, he murmured something about having forgotten to ask what Guthrie was drinking.

“Beer,” Natalie said automatically. “Something domestic.” She turned to look at Dean, who met her gaze with much suspicion.

“You asked him?” he said.

“Of course,” Natalie lied again, noting something in his voice that made her think she should. “What kind of hostess would I be if I didn’t ask your guests what they were drinking?”

Dean sighed with clear frustration. “I don’t have any beer. What kind of person drinks beer at a dinner party?”

She patted his hand sympathetically. “Don’t worry. I called the caterer this afternoon and asked him to include a case of Sam Adams.”

Not because Finn would drink an entire case, of course. Just because she’d wanted Dean to pay for a case of beer he’d never be drinking.

Now he eyed her even more suspiciously than he had before. “How did you know I’d need some?”

This time Natalie was the one to sigh with frustration. “Be
cause
, Dean,” she said in the same tone of voice she might use for a two-year-old who’d just shoved a Lego up his nose, “Russell Mulholland is an
eccentric
. You never know what people like that will be drinking.” And you never knew who they might bring with them, she added to herself.

Oh, all
right
. So maybe she had been thinking—hoping—that Russell would have a member of his security team with him tonight. Just not one who was blonde and consex, that was all.

Dean didn’t look anywhere near convinced, but Natalie . . . Oh, what was the phrase she was looking for? Oh, yeah. Didn’t give a damn. Instead, she went to the kitchen and withdrew a longneck from Dean’s fridge—Oh, good; they’d unpacked the entire case, so the entire bottom shelf of his Sub-Zero fridge was stocked with beer he’d never drink—twisted off the cap, and returned to the party.

She was surprised to see that Finn had moved away from Danetta to take in the view outside the window. She was not surprised to see that Dean had swooped in to take his place at the blonde’s side. Possibly, Natalie thought, Dean was thinking he could get even with Finn for not being his employer by moving in on Finn’s date. Probably, he would indeed have his hand on Danetta’s ass by night’s end. Definitely, he didn’t realize she knew Krav Maga. It almost made Natalie want to stay ’til the end of the party.

Almost.

But she would hang around until dinner was over—she didn’t want to be rude, after all, unlike
some
Tooties— and then make up an excuse for why she had to leave. By then, Dean wouldn’t miss her. And Finn probably wouldn’t, either.

She strode over to where he stood alone at the window and stopped beside him, and when he looked up, she smiled and extended the beer toward him. He smiled back—almost convincingly, too—and accepted it from her, enjoying a healthy swallow before murmuring his thanks. Then he returned his attention to the view beyond the glass.

Not sure whether he was silently dismissing her or if he just thought Jeffersonville was the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld, Natalie said, “Nice view, huh?”

Still looking out the window, he said, “Yep.”

“You should see it after dark,” she told him. “The lights from Indiana on the other side stream across the river like different colored stripes, and the bridge is all lit up with purple. It’s gorgeous.”

He said nothing for a moment, which she thought strange, then turned to look at her again. “Seen this view at night a lot, have you?”

Not exactly the reply she’d expected, but at least he was speaking to her. Maybe not in the warmest tone of voice—and what was up with that, anyway, since he was the one who had both started and ended anything that hadn’t happened at her house the other night?—but then, his tone with her since meeting him had rarely been warm. Only that night in his room, when she’d awakened—okay, okay, come to—in his bed had they spoken with anything even remotely resembling friendship. Or something.

“I’ve seen it once or twice,” she answered honestly.

He nodded at that, then turned back to the great outdoors. “Look, Natalie, you don’t have to stand here and keep me company,” he said. “I know you and Waterman have other guests, and I’m not much of a mingler.”

He pronounced that last word as if it were something distasteful he found on the sole of his shoe.

She ignored, for now, the fact that he had seemed to link her and Dean together as an item, because she couldn’t imagine where he would have gotten a ridiculous idea like that, even if she was acting as his hostess tonight. Lots of single men in society had women who weren’t girlfriends or fiancées or anything else help them host parties. Some archaic throwback to days when women didn’t have anything better to do. Well, they’d had better things to do. They just hadn’t been allowed to do them.