Debbi Rawlins - A Glimpse of Fire

“I’m sensing a pattern.”

Her lips curved in a wry smile. “Very astute.”

He smiled back. “Cody isn’t so unusual.”

“Not now. Thirty-three years ago it was, and he hated it with a passion.”

“Ah, he must be your much older brother.”

Laughter sparkled in her eyes. “Much older.”

He guessed she was in her midtwenties, not that it mattered. “Where do you fall in the pecking order? Middle?”

Her eyebrows rose, and she seemed a little annoyed. “Does it show?”

Eric shrugged. “I haven’t been around you long enough to know.”

She didn’t say anything but sipped her wine, still looking a little put off.

He understood her touchiness, which he wisely didn’t point out. As far as he was concerned, whoever had come up with the “middle child syndrome” theory was on to something. He knew firsthand. “I’m right smack in the middle myself. A brother three years older and one three years younger. Both pains in the ass.”

Her smile returned. “But you love them anyway.”

“Yep, though I admit I don’t always like them.”

“Amen.”

“We have something in common then.”

Her voice lowering to a husky pitch, she said, “I wonder what else we have in common.”

He took another sip of scotch. This had to be a joke. She was too perfect. And she’d just handed him the perfect opening. “How about we find out over dinner sometime?”

She blinked, uncertainty flitting across her face.

Eric silently cleared his throat. Had he misread the signal? Had he screwed up? It wasn’t as if he’d been pushy. “Look, I—”

The lights flickered once, twice.

The room quieted for a few seconds, until the tinkling sound of metal meeting crystal broke the silence.

“May I have your attention?” Mrs. Webber stood with a crystal goblet in one hand and a silver spoon in the other. “I’d like you all to return to the table. We have a special dessert we’re about to serve.”

Great. Just how he wanted to spend the next hour. Eric turned back to Dallas.

She was gone.

AFTER EVERYONE WAS SEATED, the lights went out and two waiters carried trays of flaming Baked Alaska high above their heads into the dining room. Several people clapped, and during a chorus of oohs and aahs, the lights came back on.

Across the long table, where Tom had made sure Dallas was seated with him and his wife, Eric’s eyes bored into hers as if the lights had never gone out. As if even in the dark he’d been drawn unerringly to her. And like a deer caught in the headlights, Dallas held his gaze, totally powerless to look away.

“This is rich. This is just too friggin’ rich,” Tom murmured, drawing her attention. “I should have brought a damn camera.”

Thankfully the waiters began serving the Baked Alaska, and Dallas used the distraction to pull herself together. If she were smart, she’d excuse herself from the table and leave the party. Between his staring and the other guests’ curiosity, she was bound to trip up. Make a fool of herself.

She’d purposely come after dinner so that she could flit about the room just out of his reach, engage in some harmless flirting, make him a little crazy and then disappear. The last thing she’d wanted was to be stuck at the table. Damn, she didn’t even like Baked Alaska.

Her gaze drew back to him. Sitting beside him, a slim fortyish woman wearing too many diamonds on her fingers and an unhealthy tan had managed to monopolize his attention. Dallas used the opportunity to give him a once-over. Watch the way his mouth quirked up on one side in a sort of lopsided smile.

He really was good-looking in a conservative way. She’d like to see his hair a little longer, but that was cosmetic. The basics—the structural stuff, like the strong square chin—were there. Great lips, too. Nice and full on the bottom.

Then again, the clean-cut look wasn’t bad for a change. Many of the guys she worked with had hair long enough to tie into a ponytail. Except for her best bud Tony, and even his dark, shaggy mop rested on his collar.

Tom made an odd gurgling noise behind his napkin, trying to stifle a laugh. “Look at him. He’s in a daze talking to Miriam Lancaster. Doesn’t even know what hit him. Did you see when he was trying to get my attention earlier? Do I have a poker face, or what?”

“Tom, stop it.” Serena’s warning voice was low, but both Dallas and the woman next to her heard. Serena’s voice dropped a few pitches. “Besides making an ass out of yourself, you’re going to blow it.”

“Okay, okay.” He stared at his plate until he was able to compose himself. It lasted three seconds before he started to chuckle again. “Did you see his face when—?”

“Tom, I mean it. I’ll leave.” Serena glanced at Dallas. “This is so incredibly juvenile. I’m sorry he involved you.”

“Juvenile, hell. This is priceless.” Tom’s eyes gleamed until Serena picked the linen napkin off her lap and started to fold it, preparing to get up. “All right, I’ll shut up.”

She hesitated and then laid the napkin back down on her lap. Tom cast another glance at Eric and then at Dallas, pressed his lips together and picked up his fork.

Through the rest of dessert, Dallas sat quietly even though her heart raced like a thoroughbred rushing for the finish line. She’d figured she’d be nervous. And she was a little. Had almost backed out at the last minute. She’d certainly never expected the exhilaration she felt or the giddy headiness of power and control that continued to build.

While Eric knew nothing about her, she knew a lot about him. Knew he was a Columbia graduate who’d been steadily climbing the ladder of success from the day after he’d graduated. His hard work had paid off, and he was a rising star with Webber and Thornton, a company that believed in family and socializing outside of the office. Eric was the only holdout, unmarried and never even bringing a date to the company functions.

She liked that about him. A rebel, kind of like herself. But the similarity ended there. His friends and acquaintances belonged to an elite circle. The kind she shunned. No, not shunned, really. That wasn’t accurate. But her world was definitely more eclectic. By choice.

But that’s what made tonight’s cameo appearance fun. No one knew anything about her. Not even Tom. He assumed she was a freelance model. She hadn’t bothered to correct him. Wouldn’t he be surprised if he discovered the truth?

She surveyed the other guests, all dressed to the nines, every hair in place, perfect manicures and polite smiles. They’d all be surprised to learn what she really did for a living. Disgusted maybe. As her parents were. To some extent, at least her brother and sister understood her need for autonomy. Not that they approved of her choices.

Dessert seemed to go on forever. Lots of cognac and fancy liqueurs were served. Fortunately enough subdued chatter muffled private conversations that she was able to easily fend off the polite curiosity of the other guests before Eric could get wind of their exchange.

According to Tom, only he, Serena and Mrs. Webber knew about the joke. Everyone else thought she was a visiting friend of the Webbers’ absent daughter. Dallas stuck to the story, and curiosity generally died quickly.

Not Eric’s, though. His gaze often strayed in her direction, although to his credit, the woman beside him would never know he was distracted. He smiled and inclined his head toward her when she spoke, did all the courteous things expected of him.

Only Dallas knew his thoughts were about her, that more than curiosity burned in his eyes when they met hers. Every nerve ending in her body reacted. As if two live wires connected and sparked with each look.