SNOWFIRES (17 page)

“
Princess, if I’m with you, I’ll enjoy
myself.”

His mind raced ahead to preparations. He
almost laughed. Trent Macleod, the unwanted boy from nowhere, the
bad old pirate raider, at the swankiest country club around with
the prettiest woman in Texas.

Now how the hell was he supposed to pull that
off?

***

Trent adjusted the cuff of the tux he’d
borrowed from clothes Joe Bob left at Holly’s home. Hell, these
duds probably cost as much as Trent’s car had. He’d tried renting
an appropriate tuxedo and shirt, but he hadn’t had enough notice.
The pants were large in the waist, but the suspenders provided
enough insurance and everything fit otherwise.

Parking in front of Holly’s house, he
couldn’t believe he knew anyone who lived in a palace as
resplendent as any he’d seen in his travels.

Not that his travels had been remarkable.
These last few years he seldom had the opportunity to venture
inland to sightsee. Mostly he checked bills of lading, oversaw
loading and unloading, and acquired supplies for the next leg of
the trip. Now he was set to become one of those he’d always envied
most—the men with roots, men who lived in a city they loved where
people knew them and called them friend. If only he didn’t screw it
up.

He rang the bell.

Holly opened the door. “My, don’t you look
handsome?”

She wore a silver dress that hugged her body.
The lower part of her body. Nothing touched most of the top. Shiny
material flowed around her and reminded him of the dresses a star
might wear in an old black and white movie from the twenties or
thirties. Yeah, Carole Lombard could have worn this dress. But
Holly was sexier and in Technicolor.

He swallowed against the cotton that suddenly
lined his mouth. “Holy sh—cow. You take my breath away. Without a
doubt, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He stepped
in and walked around her. “Sonofagun. That is some costume you’re
almost wearing.”

No way was there a bra under that top. And
there was no back to it. It clung to her like quicksilver, catching
the light with her movement. He wondered about panties and shoved
that thought away before he embarrassed himself.

She laughed and he loved the sound of her.
“Thanks. It’s what Grandma bought me for my birthday last month.
Not at all practical, but seems it’s come in handy after all.”

He shook his head. “No kidding? Your
grandmother knows you plan to be seen in public in that? It’s, um,
very revealing.” Damn, he couldn’t see regal and sedate Ila Mae
picking that dress out, especially for her own granddaughter.

She laughed again and swirled a full-length
black velvet cape around her. “If you think this halter dress
exposes too much, you’re in for a big surprise when you see some of
the other fashions in a little while.”

When they stepped outside, she spotted the
rented Caddy in the drive. “Wow, Popeye, nice wheels.”

Damn, why’d he make that stupid comment last
night? “Got me, Princess.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to embarrass
you in front of your friends.”

She stopped. “Trent? Do you think I’m that
shallow? I would never be embarrassed by anything like that. I only
suggested we go in my car last night to tease you.”

“
Truth is, I didn’t want to come off
like a jerk. Okay?” He opened the door of the spotless rental for
her.

At the club, they left the car to valet
parking and joined the crush of people flooding into the
ballroom.

Trent straightened his tie. “Thanks for
suggesting I wear Joe Bob’s tux instead of a rented one. From the
looks of the others here, nothing less than Armani or Versace is
allowed in the building.”

Holly introduced him to politicians,
diplomats, CEO’s, professionals—too many people to remember. One of
the few whose name stuck in his mind was because of the bad vibes
the guy gave off. A smarmy guy named Larry Hassle from the
Dallas Daily
Chronicle
, the newspaper wannabe that tried to
compete with the successful
Dallas Morning
News
. Trent wondered how that guy got in because he
damn sure wasn’t a club member and didn’t seem to be with
anyone.

Trent warmed to Bruce Jacobs, new CEO of
Veritex Communications. After he and his date left, Holly nudged
him. “Bruce used to be Marvel’s Executive VP. You might want to
connect with him. He could give you a lot of information about the
company and help you transition.”

Trent watched the man work the room. “Yeah?
Maybe, but my style is more to do research and figure things
through on my own.” In fact, he made it a point to depend on no one
but himself. No disappointments. No let downs. No betrayals.

A brunette waved and dragged her escort their
way. For a fraction, Holly tensed, but then she smiled as the
couple joined them.

“
Holly, you came after all. We saved
you seats just in case.” The newcomer pointed with her beaded
evening bag. “We’re over there by the columns.

“
Laura, Rob, this is Trent Macleod.
Trent, this is my best friend, Laura Evans, and her escort, Rob
Vincent.”

Trent made the appropriate noises, but his
mind whirred. He’d bet this was the friend who’d put the hateful
idea in Holly’s head that he was after her money and position. If
so, he’d like to wring Laura’s pretty neck.

“
Good heavens!” Holly clutched his arm
in a death grip.

Trent followed the direction of Holly’s stare
before she caught herself and looked elsewhere. Damn. Geneva hung
on Carl Winston, the investment banker who’d introduced him to Joe
Bob. That poor sap Winston must be thirty years older than Geneva,
but the man appeared besotted by her obvious flirting. Geneva’s
dress made Holly’s look like Pilgrim garb.

“
Ohmygod, the color of that dress makes
it appear...um, it looks totally...it looks almost transparent.”
Laura’s awe changed to a smug smile directed toward Holly. “See, I
told you she’d be here to pick out hubby number two.”

Holly hissed. “She needn’t hang on him when
Daddy’s only been dead three months. Even she should show some
decorum. And Carl is a family friend old enough to be her father
and then some.”

Laura nodded. “Mmmhmmm, but he’s not acting
like her father, is he?”

Rob laughed. “More like a sugar daddy.”

“
She’s definitely going for money and
security, that’s for sure.” Laura leaned toward Holly. “Who better
than the keeper of the cash?”

Rob raised his eyebrows. “Looks like they
need to leave and get a room.” He gave an “Oof” when Laura elbowed
him.

“
Come on, Princess. Let’s dance.” Trent
pulled her onto the floor to distract her. And to hold her.
Especially to hold her.

She felt better than he’d imagined. Even a
so-so dancer like him couldn’t go wrong with her in his arms. He
praised the orchestra for choosing a slow number so he could pull
her close. Gradually she relaxed against him.

After several dances, Holly asked to sit
down. They found the round table Laura had indicated and took
seats. People came by to say hello and finagle an introduction.
Some stared down their noses, others appeared to welcome him.

In a minute of solitude, Trent scanned the
ballroom. “Looks like we’ve attracted attention. You okay with
that?”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He
suspected the grin was for the crowd more than for him. He signaled
a waiter who stopped and let them snare two flutes of
champagne.

“
I hate gossip, Trent, even when people
might be saying perfectly harmless things. You see them looking
from you to me, speculating on our relationship.”

“
And my motives?” He hated the snobs
who snickered behind their whispers.

This time the smile sparkled from her eyes.
“Oh, they know your motive, sailor. To get me in the sack.”

He raised his glass in a mock toast. “I am,
after all, a sane, red-blooded man with a beautiful woman. And I
have to admit my intentions are not entirely pure.”

“
Well, that’s a relief.” She returned
his toast.

“
Holly.” Two voices spoke
simultaneously.

Ah, the half-sisters. They dressed more
modestly than their mother, but Trent couldn’t mistake their
resemblance to Geneva, especially in the one he assumed was Jenny.
He rose until they sat down on the other side of Holly.

The youngest leaned forward. “Hi. I’m Angie.
You’re Trent Macleod. I remember seeing your photo in a magazine.”
Angie’s hair was more blonde than her sister’s and her features
softer. She wore a dark blue dress that matched her eyes and
reminded him of Holly’s.

“
Me, too. I’m Jenny.” She wore her hair
in the same style and shade as her mother’s and carried herself in
the same haughty way.

Jenny’s dark gold dress was the same color as
her hair and, with her tanning booth tan, made her appear all the
same color. He doubted that was the effect she was going for.
Already her practiced pout resembled her mother’s too closely and
her dress was far too daring for a girl of her age. Too bad for any
poor stiff who fell for this woman.

But Trent smiled gallantly. “Ladies, you’re
almost as beautiful as your sister.”

They both giggled, but Jenny’s laugh sounded
false.

Angie smiled at Holly. “That’ll be the
day.”

Okay, he liked this one better and better.
The other one looked bored and he’d like to give her a swift kick
where it would do the most good.

“
Where are your dates?” Holly
asked.

“
Oh, around here somewhere.” Angie
looked around. “We’re double dating and I’m stuck with that dorky
Howard Rice.”

Jenny glared at her sister. “You should feel
honored, after all, he’s a college sophomore. And he’s from a very
good family.”

Angie rolled her eyes. “All he talks about is
his tennis game. What do I care if his backhand is improving?”

Jenny put her hand on Holly’s arm. “I hope
you don’t mind. I’m with Stan.”

The way she said it made Trent wonder who the
hell Stan was and why Holly might mind?

Holly leaned back, her shoulder pressing
against Trent. “Except that he’s too old for you why would I
mind?”

Her sisters exchanged glances before Jenny
faced Holly. “Well, you know, you and he used to—“

“
Be friends, nothing more, never will
be.” Holly’s tone brooked no argument. “I hope you have a nice
evening.”

Two men came to the table and stood behind
Angie and Jenny. Trent hated both men at once. They looked like the
types named Chip or Biff who wore a sweater tied uselessly about
their shoulders and talked about croquet and squash and things
Trent had never heard of. Instantly, he wanted to mash them like
bugs.

Holly made quick introductions and Trent rose
to shake hands with the men. Stan’s hand was limp as a dead
fish.

Trent took Holly’s hand. Much better.
“They’re playing that song you said reminds you of me, Princess.”
He nodded to the other four. “Excuse us, won’t you?” Then he swept
Holly onto the dance floor.

She hissed into his ear. “That song I think
reminds me of you? Are you aware the name of this is ‘I Can Love
You Better.’”

He laughed. Damned if that wasn’t right; he
could love her better. “It’s all I could think of to say, okay? I
wanted to get away from those people and have you to myself.”

She nestled her head on his shoulder.
“Thanks.”

“
Your sisters are all right, but I
didn’t like those two they’re with.” He twirled her to the edge of
the crowd so he could pull her close. “What’s with this Stan guy
anyway?”

She smiled up at him. “Nothing. Absolutely
nothing.”

“
Glad to hear it.” His voice sounded
gruffer than he had intended.

Holly’s sisters’ dates had all but sneered at
him—as if he had no right to be here. Maybe he didn’t but it made
him mad as hell for them to act that way. Angie said they’d read
the magazine article on him. Damn, that meant Holly had, too.

Not that it was bad coverage. The headline
read “Pirate Steps Ashore In North Texas.” It was short and mainly
focused on his takeover of Marvel, but alluded briefly to his life
before he bought his shares. Brief information covered all that was
available on him and he intended to keep it that way. Damned if he
wanted all that old stuff dredged up again.

By the middle of the evening, he’d danced
with each of Holly’s sisters as well as her friend Laura. He evaded
their questions and asked some of his own. Easy enough to get them
talking and let them rattle on until a dance ended.

Geneva and Carl came by the table after
Trent’s feet had sentenced him to sit out a few numbers. Laura and
Rob were there also.

“
Carl, Mrs. Tucker.” Trent shook hands
with Winston and nodded to Geneva. She glared through
Trent.

Winston pumped his hand and took the seat
beside him. “Glad to see you here enjoying yourself. And with our
Little Holly, that’s nice.”

Trent almost laughed when Holly winced at the
nickname her grandfather originated.

At Winston’s other side Geneva sniffed.
“You’d think she’d have more loyalty to her family.”

Holly offered a malicious smile. “It’s a
family business, Geneva. Trent owns part of it, so guess that makes
him family.” She gave a long up and down look to Geneva’s
skin-toned mesh dress over a clinging slip of the same color. “I
see you’re out of mourning.”

Geneva reddened and huffed. “Walter would
have wanted me to have a nice time. He always said life was to
enjoy.”