CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Gray simply stared. “You’re beautiful.”

Gray had called her beautiful before, but he’d never sounded as if the words were a reverent vow. She closed the front door with an unsteady hand. “Thank you. I’ll get my purse.”

He gasped when he saw the back of the dress. She turned back to him, biting her lower lip.

“You look exquisite. And I wish I could take that dress off you and take you to bed.”

A smile broke over Claire’s face as she came to him. “We can stay home if you want.”

“We’re going out. I want to show people what a desirable woman I’m fortunate enough to be dating.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Go get your bag.”

Smiling, she started toward the family room, her steps slow and deliberate. His gaze traveled to her feet in the sexy high heels. He looked up and their eyes met.

She flushed. “I’ve practiced every day.”

He went to her and placed his hands on her waist. “And I don’t suppose the dress would look right with anything but four-inch heels.”

“I’m afraid not. As long as I go slowly, I’m all right.”

“Then slow it is and I’ll be right beside you all the way, just where I planned to be.”

“You don’t think I’m vain or silly?”

“No,” he answered softly. “I think you’re the most loving and giving person I know. I think the world is better because you’re in it. I think I’m a lucky man.”

Tears crested in her eyes. “No one has ever said anything so beautiful to me. You touch me in ways I didn’t know possible. I’ve never been happier.”

Gathering her hands in his, he kissed them. “I’m glad. Now, let’s go show you off.”

*   *   *

The Peninsula Grill was elegant, posh and romantic. They’d entered through a gas-lit, tree-enshrouded courtyard. The maitre’d greeted Gray by name, then immediately showed them to their intimate table by a window. Antique landscapes hung from velvet-upholstered walls, and chandeliers cast a rosy glow. Claire didn’t breathe easier until Gray had personally seated her. She smiled her thanks across the white-linen-draped table. He hadn’t let her go until the last possible second. Handing them their menu, the maitre’d withdrew.

Claire’s eyes widened at the prices. “There’s definitely a difference between living and living well.”

Gray chuckled. “Tonight let’s go for living well. What tickles your fancy?”

She chose Chilean Sea Bass. She glanced around as Gray gave the waiter their order, then selected their wine from the steward. She couldn’t help but notice two women who were following the maitre’d abruptly stop when they saw them, and begin whispering.

“What’s the matter?”

Her gaze went back to Gray. He always read her so well. “Two women were staring at us, but they’re gone now.”

“Probably trying to figure out if they’d look as great as you do in that dress. The answer would be no,” he said. The wine steward appeared and showed Gray the label. At Gray’s nod, he poured. Gray picked up his glass. “To a wonderful evening.”

Claire picked up her glass and thrust the women out of her mind. “A wonderful evening.”

And it was. Gray was a charming and attentive, the food wonderful, and the service impeccable. Claire thoroughly enjoyed herself.

“You want dessert?” Gray asked, setting his coffee cup down. “Their coconut cake is six layers perched atop a swirl of crème anglaise.”

Claire smiled. “Not if I don’t want to pop out of this dress. This was wonderful, Gray.”

A shadow crossed his face. “I’m sorry we haven’t gone—”

“Please, don’t say anymore.” She reached across the table and this time his hand captured hers. “We needed the time with just the two of us. Now, on order from Brooke, I need to go scope out the ladies room to see if they have hand cream.”

“And if they don’t?”

She grinned across at him. “Send management a few jars of our products and see if we can’t get him or her to stock them.”

“Spoken like a true entrepreneur.” Getting up, Gray went to her chair.

Rising, she touched him lightly on the shoulder when his arm curved around her waist. “I can handle it, but if you hear a crash come running.”

He kissed her lips. “Always.”

Warmth coursing through Claire, she started toward the bathroom. Either she was finally getting used to the high heels or the wine was mellowing her, but she didn’t feel shaky anymore.

Pushing open the door she stepped into luxury: Chinese paintings in heavy gold frames, lush padded benches, gold faucets and silk-covered walls in the palest shade of blue. In between each of the five round sinks was an arrangement of birds-of-paradise in cylindrical crystal vases. Cloth towels rested neatly in square sweetgrass baskets with a larger basket underneath for the used towels.

But there was no lotion. Deciding to test the soap, Claire pumped a couple of squirts into her hand, then rubbed it with her fingertips. The white liquid didn’t feel as luxurious as hers. Sticking her hand beneath the automatic faucet, she washed and dried her hands. Whatever they were using was good, but theirs was better. Brooke and Lorraine would be delighted. She turned to leave just as the door opened and the two women she had seen earlier came in.

Both wore expensive dresses and jewelry that glittered and sparkled at their throats, wrists and their ears. From the way their gaze went directly to her, Claire suspected they had followed her. Deciding to test her theory, she turned back to the mirror and checked her lipstick. In the mirror Claire saw them move further into the restroom, whispering, their eyes on her.

Claire faced them. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The two appeared startled that she had spoken to them. “You were whispering and staring earlier and now you followed me in here. Why?”

“You won’t be able to keep him,” one of the women blurted. Lines radiated from her narrowed eyes.

Despite the chill that went through Claire, she casually folded her arms. “Could you be more specific?”

The woman who had spoken jutted her pointed chin. “Gray. Jana wants him back, and she always gets what she wants.”

Claire didn’t even blink. “Not a chance in hell.”

The women’s eyes widened at the venom in Claire’s voice. Jana wouldn’t get a chance to hurt Gray again.

“And if Jana’s your friend you must be hard up for a friend, and between men.”

They flushed and Claire knew she had guessed correctly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Gray doesn’t like me to be away from him too long and neither do I.”

The two moved aside. Head high, breasts thrust forward, Claire left the bathroom and went to the table.

Gray rose when he saw her. The smile on his face disappeared when his gaze went beyond her. He quickly went to her. He glanced at the two women as they hurried past them.

“Are you all right?”

Claire smoothed the frown from his face. “I’m always better in your arms.”

His arm curved around her waist, they stopped to get her purse then went outside. He handed the valet his ticket and pulled her aside.

“What happened? Kathy and Shiloh are friends of Jana’s. They haven’t caught on yet that she keeps them around because they’re less attractive and insecure. They stay because men gravitate to her and neither has been able to keep a man.”

Claire’s arms twined around his neck. “I’m not going to let them ruin our evening.”

“What happened?” he asked, his voice curt.

She saw no way around making him even angrier. “One of them said Jana wanted you back and she always gets what she wants.”

Gray swore softly.

“I told her there wasn’t a chance in hell.”

Gray’s hands tenderly palmed her face. “You’re incredible.”

“You are pretty incredible yourself.” Her hands covered his. “Now, please take me home. These shoes are killing me.”

“Shall I carry you?”

“Why don’t we wait until we get to my place?”

He quickly led her to his waiting Porsche. As they drove off, several people watched them. One of the women from the restroom pulled her cell phone out of her Prada bag. “Jana, I think you better plan on coming down to Charleston sooner than you planned.”

*   *   *

John had heard The Loft was the hottest club in the city. It certainly had to be the most crowded. Seeing the line wrapped around the building, he thought his plans to go dancing wouldn’t pan out either. They’d had hot dogs for dinner in honor of Mark trying out for the softball team.

“Maybe it will move fast,” he said, although he didn’t hold out much hope. It had been close to nine-thirty when they’d left his parents’ house. Mark was excited because he had struck his father out. John had to admit it wasn’t too difficult to fake it. By the time he’d gone home to shower and change, then drop by Brooke’s place to pick her up, it was a little after ten-thirty.

“Yancy is on the door; he’ll let us in.”

John’s head whipped around, but the valet was already opening Brooke’s door. As usual, when Brooke was within five feet of a male, they fell all over themselves to please her. She greeted the teenager by name.

“How do you know everyone?” John asked more abruptly than he meant.

Her eyebrow arched. “I’m the commercial rep for Bliss and this is one of our first clients. In fact, I got the idea from The Loft.” Her head twisted to one side. “You still want to go in? I know several people inside, too.”

“Men, you mean.”

Brooke’s eyes glittered. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

It was, but John didn’t think it wise to point it out. “Let’s go inside.”

As she’d promised, she had no trouble getting them in. Loud music and cigarette haze greeted them. It was Brooke who snagged them a table when another couple got up to leave. Against overwhelming odds, she got the attention of a passing waitress who took their drink orders.

John simply stared at her. She seemed to go through life effortlessly. She made things happen and attracted men like a homing device.

“You want to dance?” asked a young man with a diamond earring and twenty pounds of gold chains hanging around his neck.

“Perhaps later,” Brooke said. The man left and she glanced around the crowded club, trying to recall what had attracted her to such places in the past.

“Why didn’t you just tell him no?”

She looked at John, his shoulders stiff beneath his sports coat, his jaw tight. “It never hurts to be nice. What is the matter with you? It was your idea to come here.”

He shoved his hands impatiently over his hair. “I thought you’d enjoy going out.”

“You want to dance?” another man asked Brooke.

“No, she doesn’t,” John snapped.

The man abruptly straightened and walked away.

Brooke stared across the table at John. Her natural instinct was to snap, but something about the droop of his shoulders, his troubled expression, wouldn’t let her. “Do you want to talk about what’s upsetting you?”

John’s mouth pursed.

“When the waitress gets back, we can leave.” She glanced around the crowded, smoke-filled room again. “Frankly, I recall enjoying this better.”

“Would you be having a better time if you weren’t with me?”

Brooke’s head snapped back around. She was stunned for all of two seconds. “What a stupid thing to say. If I wanted to be with someone else, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you.”

“You can’t go two feet without some guy coming on to you,” John grumbled.

“Have you looked around to see how many women are sizing you up?”

Surprise flickered across his face. “They’re not.”

Her mouth tightened. “There are two at the far corner of the bar and the Hoochie Mama in the red dress a couple of tables back for a start.”

John didn’t look at them; he looked at Brooke. She was steamed. The night took a sudden turn for the better. “You’re jealous.”

She stuck up her nose. “You wish.”

He scooted his chair next to hers, then curved his arm around her stiff shoulders. “I’ll admit I am if you’ll admit you are.”

She snuggled closer. “Maybe just a little.”

“Try a lot.” His hand threaded through her hair. “I think I’d throw a bag on your head if I could.”

She might have laughed at the idea if she hadn’t sensed he was half serious. Sitting up, she gazed at him. “This won’t work if you can’t trust me. I can’t change the way I look or avoid men. I wouldn’t if I could. Some of my best friends are men.”

“Here are your drinks.” The waitress sat the drinks on the table.

John leaned over to pull his wallet from the hip pocket of his slacks when the first man who has asked Brooke to dance returned. “How about that dance now?”

“Sure,” she said and placed her hand in the man’s. Grinning, the man popped his fingers and sashayed all the way to the crowded dance floor. Brooke winked at John over her shoulder.

“Would you like to dance?”

John looked around to see a slim young woman half-wearing a red dress. So much skin was showing he almost felt the urge to offer his coat. “Someone might get the table if I leave, too.”

“Sure.” Shrugging, she melted into the crowd.

Picking up his draft beer, John leaned back into the chair. So Brooke had been right. He hadn’t paid any attention to other women because he only saw Brooke. Sam’s words came back to him and he realized that it was the same way for her. He sipped his drink and leaned back in the chair. He didn’t have to worry about some guy beating his time. If she didn’t want to be with him, she wouldn’t be.

The bottle was near his mouth again when he saw Brooke push her way through the crowd. Her eyes were narrowed and she was no longer smiling. John had seen that look before. “Should I expect the police?” he asked when she reached their table.

“No, but I bet it will be a long time before he tries to grope another woman.”

The bottle of beer hit the table with a thud. John came to his feet. Brooke caught the tail of his jacket and tugged until he sat back down next to her, then whispered in his ear. “Would you rather spend the night in jail or putting a smile on my face?”

He was torn. “That’s not fair.”

She blew into his ear and smiled when he shuddered. “You ever see hand-painted lingerie, John?”

He was out of his chair in an instant. His eyes blazed. “Let’s go.

Laughing, she allowed him to pull her from the club.