The Love Child. Catherine Mann
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Название: The Love Child
Автор: Catherine Mann
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Alaskan Oil Barons
isbn: 9781474076371
isbn:
“Honesty is an admirable trait. It’s just...” She bit her bottom lip.
A low laugh burst free. “Not always the most tactful for the business world.”
A major part of why he was better cut out for his role managing the family ranch.
“That makes tact sound dishonest somehow.”
Wanting to lighten the mood and chase away the shadows in her eyes, he twirled her away, the silky yellow dress fanning around her lithe legs. Radiant and sexy. She spun back to him, her hands finding his.
“I only meant that I get that there are nuances and things that are better left unsaid. I’m just not a nuance kind of man.” Keeping her close, he guided their steps away from the other half-dozen couples dancing, steering her toward the stone fireplace. Massive moose antlers stared down at him. Tall ceilings provided an airy balance to the thick leather sofas that were now strategically staged against the walls rather than in their normal places.
“Let’s talk about the dancing more. You’re a natural. I think we should capitalize on that this month in your image building. This has a great sophisticated look to it. With the right press coverage—”
“Isabeau, seriously, the image again?” He needed a night off from all of that. The past week had been intense and outside his comfort zone. Particularly the past two days when all he could think about was having her here tonight. In his arms for a dance.
Yes, he wanted a night he could enjoy. With her.
“Could you stop with the business talk and let’s just enjoy this dance?”
“Oh, um, sure. This must be an emotional day for you, with your sister getting married and your mom engaged—”
“Emotional?” He stifled a laugh, drawing her closer to his chest. He whispered against her ear, as they swayed in time to the music, “It’s just a wedding. That’s it. I’m focused on you.”
“Wait, our being here together is supposed to be about business, working on your image.”
He smiled, his blue eyes glinting.
She swatted his arm. “Stop that or I’m going to line up a dozen more press conferences for you.”
“I didn’t say a word so I couldn’t have shoved my boot in my mouth.”
“Your smile speaks volumes.”
His grin widened.
“Trystan, that’s not professional—or fair.”
And perhaps that proclamation would have been followed by a moment—the kind he’d been thinking about nonstop since the day of the fitting—but a cacophony of voices disrupted the intensity of their eye contact, the closeness of their bodies.
Isabeau pivoted toward the noise first. Chuck and his wife, Shana, stood at the edge of the dance floor. Heat seemed to rise around them, calling a tempest into the room as their voices escalated, beginning to drown out the jazz tune.
His cousin, Sage Hammond, moved between them, her voice low and calming. While Trystan couldn’t make out what the argument was about this time, it was clear that Sage was playing peacemaker. A role he’d seen his fierce butterfly of a cousin play on behalf of her aunt and boss, Jeannie Steele.
He felt Isabeau tense, clearly uncomfortable with a family altercation. Squeezing her hand, Trystan tilted his head and mouthed, “Follow me.”
A quick nod of agreement was all the encouragement she needed to leave the tense scene unfolding nearby. He maneuvered them outside, taking the path to the boathouse on the bay, near the seaplane.
Toward a small section of the compound all their own.
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