Ms. Match. Jo Leigh
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toward the far end of the ballroom where there were a few places to sit.
Paul found them two seats, and they joined a group of strangers. Gwen recognized some of them, but she had no names to go with the faces. It was nice, though, because the food and drink made chitchat difficult. She wondered if she should tell him again that he was free to leave, or if that would sound as if she was throwing him out.
“That’s got to be one of the sisters,” Paul said.
She followed his gaze to the outskirts of the dance floor. Bethany, the only sister Gwen was remotely close to, stood with her husband, Harry. They both looked gorgeous. Beth wore a long, shimmering silver dress that hugged her perfect figure. “That’s Bethany. Husband Harry. They have a girl, Nickie, who’s almost a year old.”
“Another one?” He nodded toward the front entrance.
“Yep. That’s Eve. Although I don’t see the rest of her brood.”
“I don’t think I can pick out any of the brothers.”
She glanced through the crowd, but she couldn’t find any of the boys, either. “I’ll point them out if they pass.”
“What was it like to grow up with so many siblings?”
“It was great when I was very young. Not so much later on. The competition was fierce.”
“Competition?”
“Unlike those delightfully cheery big families on television, our gang was all about points. Major points for football glory, modeling contracts, cheerleading squads.”
“What about academics?”
She waved her hand, the shrimp she held bobbing. “No one actually discouraged getting good grades. But report cards weren’t important currency. What about you?”
“There was pressure, most of it about grades. It was just me and my sister, Val. She’s three years younger, and damn smart. Scary smart. Me, I had to bust my ass.”
“You did well?”
“Yeah. I got into Yale, and they didn’t throw me out for a fraud. I studied prelaw, but much to the disappointment of my father, it wasn’t for me.”
“You’re lucky. You found your calling.”
“I am.”
She finished up the rest of her meal, digesting the fact that leading man Bennet had graduated fromYale. She probably should feel embarrassed at her own prejudice. In her experience men who looked like Paul didn’t go Ivy League. Her brothers had done quite well in life having attended middling colleges. They’d understood early that charm and beauty opened more doors than prestigious degrees.
“Is there something else you’d like? More shrimp? Another drink?”
“No, I’m fine for now, thanks.”
He stood up and she relaxed, knowing she would be free to leave soon herself. Paul held out his hand. Instead of a quick goodbye, he urged her to her feet. “Dance with me?”
“Oh. No. I—”
“Years of black eyes.”
She knew that breathtaking smile wasn’t really for her. It was all part of the game. What she couldn’t understand was what he was doing with Autumn? Yes, she was stunning, a knockout. But she was also dumb as a post. Gwen laughed at herself. Didn’t beauty trump smarts every time?
He tugged at her again, and she relented. It had to be the gin, that’s all. Surely she wasn’t fooled by his PR magnetism. As they went toward the dance floor, she looked down at her dress. She’d spent way too much on the damn thing, especially knowing she’d probably never wear it again. Still, when she’d tried it on, she’d felt so pretty.
She’d seen the dress in the window of a small Beverly Hills boutique and tried it on for a lark. How it fit her size-ten body made her feel more like a size two. So she’d closed her eyes to the outrageous price and excused her excess as a celebration in honor of a major win by her beloved Dodgers.
Finally, she would get to take the dress out for a spin. What did it matter if she danced with a pity date? She was allowed to have fun, dammit. Even here. Even with him.
PAUL KEPT HOLD OF HER HAND until they were in the middle of the crowded dance floor, afraid she’d try to escape if he let go. When he spun her into his arms, he was shocked to find her smiling. Not that tight, barely tolerant smirk she’d worn earlier tonight, but a real honest-to-god grin.
The orchestra broke into “Go Daddy-O,” and Paul got her ready. Gwen gave him a nod, and the two of them were off.
He hadn’t danced like this in years, since that brief swing craze had made the rounds. But it all was there, right next to his fox-trots and waltzes and sambas.
It helped that Gwen kicked ass.
Unlike almost every woman he’d danced with since grammar school, she knew how to follow. She could actually read his hand as he guided her, his feet before they made a move. If they hadn’t been wearing evening clothes, he’d have really let loose. He knew she’d love it if he swung her into the air or into a deep slide between his legs.
No matter, this was still exhilarating. Not as good as bed-busting sex, but it would do.
As he pulled her into a twirl, her head went back and she laughed out loud, a sound that made him laugh himself, just for the hell of it.
The whole thing was crazy. Dancing like a madman, dancing with Gwen. Enjoying himself so much he just might not leave after this song. One more wouldn’t hurt. The poker game would still be going if he stayed for a couple more numbers.
By the time this song ended he was sweating a bit, not completely winded thanks to his workout routine, yet he needed a minute. From the look of things, Gwen did, too. He could tell from her dancing that she was in good shape. It was odd. He’d never gone out with athletic women. Most of his dates were thin. Well, skinny. He liked the models, liked how they looked on his arm. They had never really wanted to do much. Of course, they never ate, at least not in front of him.
“That was wonderful.” Gwen fluttered her long dress, trying to cool down. “You’re really good.”
“It was worth the beatings, then?”
“I’d say so.”
“Drink first? Or wait to hear what they play next?”
Just then the band lit up the stage. Paul didn’t recognize the tune, but he sure got the beat. He grabbed Gwen and they did it so right they cleared half the floor.
They were both breathing hard after that number, and Gwen dragged him to the bar. She got water and another double, and he saw no reason not to do the same. Just as he’d finished his water, one of the sisters, Eve, showed up in front of them, her focus solely on Paul.
“I saw you dancing,” she said as she did a full body inspection. “How on earth did Gwen find you? Don’t tell me he’s one of your famous bar buddies.”
The question itself could have been harmless, but it wasn’t. Second sister, second dig. He glanced at Gwen and caught her midsigh before she took a healthy swig of her gin and tonic.
“He was a free gift with purchase. Gotta love those coupons.”
Paul took a step toward his date and put his hand on her back as he smiled brightly.
Only then did Eve look at her sister. Jesus, what the hell was it with this family? At least Autumn had been marginally complimentary about Gwen. Eve’s expression left no room for misinterpretation. She found Gwen distasteful. There had to be more to this twisted dynamic than looks.
He had a lot of experience with the subject. He’d won and lost friends over his looks and he personally set his standards very high, but he saw no reason to be so out-and-out rude about it. He half turned his back on Eve and smiled. “You ready