Come Fly With Me (64 page)

"I
was
just
waiting
to
speak
without
being
interrupted."

"You're
fabulous,
just
fabulous.
I
don't
intimidate
you
at
all—good,
good,"
he
said
as
he
led
her
to
the
dance
floor.

"I
have
no
desire
to
dance
with
you,"
she
said
as
he
swept
her
skillfully
into
his
arms.

"It
appears
we
are
already
dancing,
Allison.
Let's
enjoy
the
moment,
shall
we?"

Michael
twirled
her
expertly
around
the
floor.
He
whispered
into
her
ear,
"You're
graceful—did
you
take
dance?"

"Um,
one
summer
I
took
a
ballet
at
camp."

"And
it
shows."

Allison
felt
her
irritation
fade
under
the
assault
of
his
charm
and
clenched
her
jaw
in
fresh
frustration.
In
some
ways,
he
reminded
her
of
Alex
and
her
anger
grew.

"You
might
enjoy
yourself
more
if
you
relaxed
and
gave
your
soul
to
the
music."

"I
might
enjoy
myself
more
if
you
spoke
to
me
with
respect,
like
I
was
your
peer
and
not
some
object
for
your
entertainment."

He
stopped
abruptly
mid-step,
and
she
had
to
catch
herself
from
tripping
over
him
and
sprawling
onto
the
floor
in
front
of
a
few
hundred
people.

He
led
her
off
the
dance
floor
as
if
she
were
some
errant
child
about
to
be
scolded
for
staying
up
past
her
bedtime.
They
walked
to
a
quiet
corner.

"I
respect
you,"
he
said
in
a
low
voice.

"Not
even
close,"
she
said.

"How
so?
Because
I
forced
you
to
dance
with
me?
Because
I've
been
wondering
how
you
would
feel
in
my
arms
from
the
moment
I
stepped
into
your
gallery?"

Her
eyes
widened
at
his
unexpected
words.
"Surely
you
don't
mean..."

"I
never
say
anything
I
don't
mean.
I
never
speak
when
silence
will
do.
And
no,
to
answer
your
unspoken
question,
I
don't
assume
all
females
are
interested
in
me.
I
seem
to
have
made
a
grievous
misstep
and
for
that
I
offer
my
sincerest
apologies."
He
walked
away
and
left
her
standing
dumbfounded
in
the
corner
of
the
room,
as
if
he
had
put
her
there
for
a
timeout.
Once
again,
she
hadn't
been
given
the
opportunity
to
respond.

She
walked
slowly
back
to
the
table,
rattled
and
unnerved.
Kenyon's
eyes
were
on
her,
and
he
came
over
to
sit
down
next
to
her.

"I
saw
you
talking
to
Michael
Essex.
He's
a
prick,
you
know."

"An
influential
one.
Don't
get
into
a
fight
with
him
over
me."

"I
won't,
but
I
just
thought
you
should
know
that
about
him,"
Kenyon
warned.

"I
know
it's
his
reputation,
but
he's
such
a
great
father
that
I
feel
like
somehow
I'm
missing
an
important
piece
of
the
puzzle."

"I
don't
know
that
side
of
him,
but
work-wise
he's
been
demanding
and
imperious.
I'll
be
glad
when
his
project
is
done."

"Thank
you
for
the
warning.
But
if
you'll
recall,
you're
the
one
that
got
me
into
this
mess,"
she
looked
at
him
glumly.

"And
I'm
not
sorry
for
the
career
opportunities
this
will
open
up
for
you.
But
I
do
need
you
to
be
careful
around
him.
He's
a
difficult
guy
to
read.
He's
priggish
and
unpredictable,
and
then
in
a
flash
he's
gone
and
you
have
no
idea
what
your
next
step
should
be.
I
guess
we
can
blame
the
Brits
for
that."

"What
do
you
mean?"

"His
parents
were
elitist
snobs
and
they
didn't
think
any
schools
here
in
the
States
were
good
enough
for
him.
His
mother
was
English,
you
know.
Anyway,
they
sent
him
off
to
a
boarding
school
in
the
U.K.
at
the
tender
age
of
thirteen.
He
stayed
on
for
University
there,
Eton,
I
think.
Everything
is
cold
and
rainy
and
gray
there.
Word
has
it
that
it
influenced
him
very
much.
People
say
he's
cold
and
dark—"

"In
addition
to
being
a
prick."

"Yeah,
well..."

"Kind
of
makes
me
feel
sorry
for
the
guy.
I
know
that
would
be
a
foolish
move,
but
enough
said.
Tonight
is
about
you.
Architects
work
their
whole
career
for
a
prize
like
this.
You're
in
the
business
little
over
a
decade
and
look
what
you've
achieved.
I
could
not
be
prouder.
Go
get
me
some
expensive
champagne
so
we
can
toast
to
your
success,"
she
smiled
and
gave
his
hand
a
squeeze.