Secrets Of The A-List Box Set, Volume 3. Dani Collins
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and spoke to her soul. Even in this dress that cost more than she would earn in a year, even feeling as she did today—like a fairy-tale princess granted one night’s reprieve from drudgery—she couldn’t deny who she was. Or what she was.
Tomorrow would come soon enough, and with it the uniform that announced to whomever she came into contact with just what her role was within the esteemed Marshall household.
But right here, right now, she could pretend she was one of these people.
You are one of them.
She smothered the voice inside her head and smiled wider at her dapperly dressed dance partner.
“Thanks for agreeing to come with me. I’m sorry for the short notice.”
Her date, Bernard Atwater, raised his eyebrows. “Are you kidding? This is one of those times when I’m not ashamed to admit I don’t mind coming second on your list. Although I was a little surprised to hear from you. What happened to your date, anyway? Did she bail on you at the last minute?”
She laughed. “Yes. Her loss is your gain.” Joy had decided at the last minute not to come, preferring to stay back at Casa de Catalina and defy Mariella’s strong hint that she wanted all her staff to be here.
Vanessa got the feeling her absence wouldn’t go down well. One of the mounting set of negative marks the disgruntled chef was accumulating. Fireworks were brewing between her friend and her employer, and Vanessa, for one, wasn’t looking forward to the eruption.
She caught the smitten look in Bernard’s eyes. “You look sensational.” His gaze dropped to subtly brush her cleavage on the way down her body.
She tried to fight the blush that rose in her cheeks and failed miserably. The dress Mariella had lent her fit like a dream. Her jaw had dropped when she’d spotted the label. And she hated to be superficial, but God, the dress made her feel like a million bucks. Finally she was beginning to get why these filthy-rich people looked like they were walking on air all the time. Money certainly gave one a cushion against most things. Not everything, though...
“Thanks. But you don’t need to say things like that,” she murmured.
Bernard smiled. “Why not? It’s true.” He leaned closer. “I know I’m supposed to say the bride is the most beautiful woman in the room, but to be honest, you beat her hands down.”
Vanessa shook her head as she laughed. “Seriously, stop it.” She couldn’t let it go to her head.
Just like she couldn’t let this thing between her and Luc continue.
As if she’d conjured him straight from her imagination, he crossed her line of vision with his woman on his arm. Tall, broad shouldered, suave and elegant, he carried that inherent sophistication all the Marshalls seemed to have been born with so effortlessly, it was almost impossible to overlook him. The laughter dried in her throat, and her whole body stiffened before she could stop the reaction.
“Hey, what’s the matter? Did what I said offend you?” Bernard’s gaze held a touch of contrition.
She hurried to reassure him. “No, not at all. I just...there’s someone here that... I’m trying not to bump into someone and...” She stammered to a halt and hid a grimace.
“Someone like...an ex-boyfriend?” he inquired. His voice was light, but the question in his eyes was serious.
Her heart lurched. She and Luc Marshall could never have a relationship like that. Not that he seemed prepared to take the hint. Even now she could feel his gaze on her. She’d felt the sensation on and off throughout the day. “No. But he’s determined to be...something.” How could she elaborate without giving away her secret?
Bernard frowned. “You’re my date.”
“Yes.”
“Is he watching you?” Bernard pressed.
The question threw her for a moment. “Um...yes. Why do you ask that?”
His grin reappeared along with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Well...do you want to send a clear message that we’re together?” he probed as she continued to stare at him.
Her eyes widened, her mind darting in several random directions. Did she? What if she pissed Luc off enough to jeopardize her position at the Marshall household? Her job meant everything to her. She didn’t want to lose it. “Uh... I don’t think...”
“Relax. I’m not suggesting anything risqué. And the last thing I want to do is embarrass you, but I really want to kiss you again.” He leaned forward, and his soft lips were on hers.
Dios mío! He was a good kisser. They’d gone out several times after striking up a conversation over the past six months when he’d started delivering the exclusive brand of bottled water the Marshalls preferred to have on hand at Casa Cat.
Finally coming up for air, Bernard asked, “Do you trust me?”
“Sure,” she answered, slightly breathless.
He laughed. “You could sound a little more convincing, but...look, just go with the flow, okay?”
Vanessa wondered if she wasn’t risking jumping from the frying pan straight into the fire. Before she could make up her mind one way or the other, Bernard dragged her closer, clamped his hand on her hip and began to move to the unmistakable rhythm of a tango.
It was the last thing she’d expected. So much so, her mouth dropped open for an inelegant second before her ingrained rhythm kicked into place. Another second later, she was moving with him and they were flowing together as if they’d been practicing for years.
They cut a swath through the crowd, keeping up with one another’s flicks and kicks as the music pulsed around them.
Halfway through the routine, Bernard grinned. “This is so awesome. I’m so glad the dance lessons my sister forced me to take for her wedding last year are paying off. At the time I was seriously weirded out that I’d have to dance the tango at my sister’s wedding, but now...jackpot!”
The boyish pleasure on his face drew a belly laugh from Vanessa. He joined in a second later, right before he lowered her over his arm in a melodramatic dip.
Around them, heads turned. Vanessa’s smile began to dim as she realized they were drawing multiple stares. Suddenly self-conscious that she might be making a spectacle of herself, her stomach rolled in anxiety, and her fingers tightened in Bernard’s grip. When her next step faltered, he smoothly directed her.
“No, don’t let them get to you. We’re putting on a show, remember?”
She suppressed the urge to bite her lip and took a breath. Gave a small nod.
“That’s my girl,” he breathed in her ear, as he swung her round and carried on dancing.
Again, as if by drawn by the magnet of her mind, there he was right in her direct line of vision. This time he was staring at her with something close to censure in his eyes. As if she’d done something wrong. As if she’d hurt him.
The vise around her heart tightened unbearably. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him. Or any of the Marshalls.
She’d arrived in Santa Barbara five years ago with no money and very little hope except for the mere scraps of information that held her world together. The Marshall family, Mariella especially, had given her a start and elevated her to the status of trusted employee. The secret she held in her heart had the potential to sink all of the mega yachts her employers owned, but until she was sure of her facts, she needed to keep it to herself.
And in this instance, keeping it to herself also meant hurting Luc. It meant letting him think the worst of her. Vanessa swallowed the hurt that rose again. Telling herself this thing had risen out of nowhere and almost immediately gotten out of control was a poor excuse. Although nothing untoward had happened, she should still have nipped it in the bud long before now.
Now