Nora Roberts - Convincing Alex

“Either I’ve had too much wine, or you’re making me dizzy.”

Bess smiled and gave him a companionable pat on the thigh that sent his blood pressure soaring. “It’s really not that complicated, once you know the players. But I want you for Storm.”

Alex sent the actor a considering look. “I don’t think he’s my type.”

“Your professional expertise, Detective. I need an informal technical advisor. My producer’d be happy to compensate you for your time—particularly since we’ve been number one in the ratings for the past nine months.” Someone called her name, and Bess sent a quick wave. “Looks like it’s going to start to thin out. Listen, can you hang around until I’ve finished playing hostess?”

She popped up and was gone before he could answer. After a moment, Alex set the rest of the dessert aside and rose. If he was going to see the party through, he might as well enjoy himself.

As she saw to the rest of her guests, Bess kept an eye on him. Once he decided to relax, she noted, he made the most of it. It didn’t surprise her that he knew how to flirt, or that several women in the room made a point of wandering in his direction. Not even Lori—no pushover in the men department—was unaffected.

“So, that’s the one who busted you?” Lori asked her, popping a plump olive into her mouth.

“What do you think?”

Lori chewed, savored, swallowed. “Yum-yum.”

With a laugh, Bess chose a wedge of cheese. “I assume that’s a comment on the man, not my buffet.”

“You bet. And the best part is, he’s not an actor.”

“Still sore?” Bess murmured.

Lori shrugged, but her gaze cut over to Steven Marshall, alias Brock Carstairs. “I never give him, or his weenie little brain, a thought. No sensible woman would spend her life competing with an actor’s ego for attention.”

“Sense has nothing to do with it.”

Lori looked away, because it hurt, more than she could bear to admit, to watch Steven while he was so busy ignoring her. “This from the queen of the bungled relationships.”

“I don’t bungle them, I enjoy them.”

“I hasten to remind you that two of your former fiancés are in this room.”

“It’s a big party. Besides, I wasn’t engaged to Lawrence.”

“He gave you a ring with a rock the size of a Buick.”

“A token of his esteem,” Bess said blithely. “I never agreed to marry him. And Charlie and I…” She waved to Charles Stutman, esteemed playwright. “We were only engaged for a few months. We both agreed Gabrielle was perfect for him and parted the closest of friends.”

“It was the first time I’d heard of a woman being best man at her former fiancé’s wedding,” Lori admitted. “I don’t know how you do it. You don’t angst over men, and they never toss blame your way when things fall apart.”

“Because I end up being a pal.” Bess’s lips curved. For the briefest of moments, there was something wistful in the smile. “Not always a position a woman craves, but it seems to suit me.”

“Going to be pals with the cop?”

Once again Bess found herself searching the remaining guests for Alex. She found him, dancing slow and close with a sultry brunette. “It would help if he’d bring himself to like me a little. I think it’s going to take some work.”

“I’ve never known you to fail. I’ve got to go. See you Monday.”

“Okay.” Bess was astute enough to glance over in Steven’s direction as Lori left. She was also clear-sighted enough to see the expression of misery in his eyes as he watched Lori walk to the elevator.

People were much too hard on themselves, she thought with a sigh. Love, she was certain, was a complicated and painful process only if you wanted it to be. And she should know, she mused as she took another sip of wine. She had slipped painlessly in and out of love for years.

As she set the glass aside, Alex caught her eye. There was a quick, surprising tremor around her heart. But it was gone quickly as someone swept her up into a dance.

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