Baby Business: Baby Steps. Karen Templeton
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look unbelievably gorgeous. I swear.”
“These go with it,” Mercy said, handing Dana—who was too busy gawking open-mouthed at Cass—a small silver box, already open. Inside lay a pair of outrageously ornate chandelier earrings that, sad to say, immediately made Dana’s mouth water.
“Ohhhh,” she said on a soft sigh, almost not caring when she caught Mercy conspiratorially poking Cass in the arm.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her in that dress.
Neither could any other straight man in the room. Including Cass’s husband Blake, who’d been trying so hard all through dinner not to stare at Dana’s breasts. C.J. almost felt sorry for the poor bastard. But who could blame him? Dear God, they were magnificent.
She was magnificent. And if C. J. found himself occasionally battling the urge to deck every guy whose eyes lingered a little longer over that magnificence than he would have preferred …
Man, this protective business really packed a wallop.
Not that Dana needed protecting. Except, perhaps, from him.
His reaction, when she’d come out of her room, knocked him clear into next week. The dress, in some shiny fabric the same lush, deep blue of the sky just before nightfall, was truly a marvel of engineering, both lovingly and aggressively displaying Dana’s no-holds-barred curves to perfection. But it was the woman inside the dress who’d set his pulse rate off the charts, the tilt of her chin that said Yes, I know exactly how I look in this dress, warring with the remnants of insecurity in her eyes, that made him want to do things to her, for her, he had no right to do. That he’d told her as considerately as he could he wouldn’t do.
So, yes, he’d given her an appreciative whistle, but he’d otherwise played it cool. Careful. Not letting on how much he ached to trail his fingertips along the line of her jaw, down her neck, across the swells of those flawless, oh-God-just-kill-me-now breasts.
He tore his gaze away to scan the ballroom, recognizing probably half the people there. Including more than one woman he’d dated over the past decade. All of them beautiful, stylish, classy. Some of them at least momentarily intriguing. Or so he’d thought at the time. And yet, he couldn’t remember ever anticipating being with any of them the way he did with Dana, simply preparing a meal together, or giving Ethan a bath, or just sitting out by the pool, shooting the breeze.
As if hearing his thoughts, she glanced over, a quizzical smile playing over her lips, and the thought of her leaving nearly made him dizzy.
Dinner over, the band started to play a run-of-the-mill pop standard that got people up and moving, but not too fast. C.J. suddenly felt, if not old, at least close enough to middle age to give him pause. The other couples at their table, including Cass and Blake, all headed toward the dance floor; C.J. smiled over at Dana.
“Shall we?”
“Uh, thanks, but no. I am, without a doubt, the world’s worst dancer.”
“I don’t believe that. I’ve seen your moves in the kitchen.”
She laughed. “Sorry, you’ll have to take my word for it…. What are you doing?” she said on a tiny squeal when he stood, took her by the hand, and led her out on the dance floor anyway. “I told you—”
“Hush,” he said, settling one hand at the small of her back, tucking one of hers against his chest. Stupid move, but whatcha gonna do? “It’s a slow dance, all we have to do is stand here and sway. Even you can sway, can’t you?”
“And you’re not afraid people will get the wrong idea?”
“Because we’re swaying?”
“Because of the position we’re in while we’re swaying.”
“Can’t sway without touching,” he said, pulling her closer to avoid colliding with another couple. “It’s in the rulebook.”
“And what rulebook would that be—?”
“C.J.! My goodness, I’ve been trying to catch your eye all night!”
Damn. And he’d been doing everything in his power to avoid hers.
“Cybill,” he said smoothly, even as Dana jerked out of his arms, bumping into the person behind her. Grabbing her hand to keep her from bolting (which earned him a brief but potent glare), C.J. turned, meeting the other woman’s glossy, predatory smile with a cool one of his own. Her nipples blatantly on display in a shimmery, silvery gown that looked more like something she’d wear to bed than a charity function, she was a mere illusion of womanhood, he realized, reeking of designer perfume and desperation.
“You are such a bad man,” Cybill said on a breathy laugh, completely ignoring Dana. “Pawning me off on that Bill person when I called your office and specifically asked for you.”
C.J. frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember getting a message.”
“Oh, this was a couple of weeks ago. Silly me, I should have used my maiden name, I forgot you wouldn’t have known my married one, which I only use for the children’s sake.” A cool, spindly hand landed on his arm. “Bill said you’d been really tied up, but I said I’d be more than willing to wait—” a brief glance speared in Dana’s direction “—until things had, um, calmed down.” Her smile veered back to C.J. “I’m in no hurry.”
He wondered now how he’d ever found Cybill and her ilk even momentarily appealing. Women who, for whatever reason, felt they were somehow entitled to whatever they wanted.
“I’m very flattered,” he said, “but unfortunately I don’t see my schedule easing anytime in the foreseeable future. And I can assure you, you’re in excellent hands with Bill.” He placed his hand at the base of Dana’s spine, gently tugging her to him. “You remember Dana Malone, don’t you?”
Recovering quickly from C.J.’s less-than-subtle brush-off, the woman blinked once, then turned her puppetlike smile on Dana. “Of course I do. A client of C.J.’s, isn’t that right? Did you two happen to run into each other here?”
Offended for Dana at the presumption, he casually roped one arm around her shoulders, knowing he’d pay dearly for the unspoken What the heck are you doing? practically vibrating from her as a result. “No, actually. We came together.”
Her smile frozen in place, Cybill said, “Well, isn’t that nice?” Then, to Dana, “And don’t you look absolutely adorable in that dress! I’d never have the nerve to wear something that … revealing.”
“I suppose it helps to have something to reveal,” Dana said sweetly.
C.J. managed, barely, to choke down the laugh. “Well, point to you,” Cybill said with a watery laugh of her own, the twin spots of color on her thin-skinned cheekbones completely ruining the makeup he guessed she’d spent hours perfecting. She lifted her hand, as though to touch him again, only to apparently think better of it. “I’ll call you,” she said.
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