Leaping Hearts (25 page)

A knock interrupted her thoughts and she padded to the door in her stocking feet. When she opened it, Garrett was standing in the hall. He was looking dapper in his tuxedo and happy as he took in her appearance.

“You’ll be the most beautiful one there.”

“You never know,” A.J. said, accepting his kiss on the cheek. “I haven’t put on my shoes yet and barn boots are still a possibility. Far more functional than the pinpointed high-risers I got to go with the dress.”

“I’m so glad you’re back home.”

“Papa, I told you not to get used to this. I’m only staying here until I can find a place of my own.”

“I know, but I keep hoping…” At her warning glance, Garrett cleared his throat. “I’ll let you finish dressing but I wanted to give you a little something.”

He pressed a leather-bound box into his daughter’s hands and interrupted her string of protests.

“It’s my birthday. You can’t turn me down.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“I know. Now, when this is all through, you and I will get together at the end of the night, won’t we? Just like we always do.”

Holding his gift in her hand, A.J.’s eyes misted over with tears as she recalled their yearly ritual. “Yes. Yes, we will.”

Garrett reached out and stroked her cheek. “Your mother would have been so proud of you. Of your strength and your independence. All that fire inside of you comes from her.”

She grasped his hand. “I love you.”

“Thank you for saying that. I really need to hear it, some nights even more than others,” he said softly. Then he disappeared down the hall, the familiar smell of that spiced cologne drifting after him.

A.J. closed the door and went over to her bed, the dress draping in a cascade around her as she sat down. Unlatching a golden clasp, she opened the box and gasped. A pair of ruby and diamond earrings were nestled in a bed of satin.
Even to her jaundiced eye, they were glorious. She plucked one out and held it up to the light, watching the sparkle and flash of the stones. She put them on to please Garrett and to shore up her confidence a little more.

After she stepped into her shoes, she smoothed the dress over her waist, did a recheck on the backs of the earrings and straightened her spine. Leaving the safe haven of her room, she took the winding staircase cautiously in her heels, telling herself not to feel nervous. She’d been through similar evenings countless times and, though they were unpleasant, nothing was going to happen that she hadn’t seen before.

Reality turned out to be quite the opposite.

When she walked into the formal living room, which was filled to capacity with a glittering crowd, she wasn’t prepared for the reaction. Tolerant smiles turned to surprise and astonishment as people saw her and stopped talking.

She felt like Elvis, back from the dead.

Then the whispering started. She wasn’t sure whether they were commenting on her return to the family fold or her stallion or her trainer or her gown. She felt like she’d been hit with a spotlight on a stage and the glare was overwhelming.

Faced with all the stares and murmurs, she forced herself not to turn around and run back to her room. Stiffening her resolve, she dived into the crowd and started to weave her way through the throng of people, with no particular destination in mind.

One step into the room and she was accosted by a stuffed shirt and his trophy wife. The manufacturer of toothpicks and a renowned womanizer, the man ran his greedy gaze over A.J. like she was a piece of art up for sale. The woman beside him, his third wife if memory served, looked fierce.

“If you aren’t full of surprises,” he was saying before he came even closer and whispered in A.J.’s ear, “Why you’ve hidden such talent under those riding clothes is a mystery.”

With men like him, she thought it was self-explanatory. As gracefully as she could, she tried to peel his arms off of her.

To A.J.’s relief, Garrett materialized out of the crowd to
rescue her. The lech immediately assumed the guise of propriety though it didn’t reach his eyes, and it was a relief when, after some conventional talk, she and her father headed over to the bar. By the time she had a glass of chardonnay in her hand, she was getting a sense of what Devlin had been talking about. At every turn, she heard her name floating in the air, part of the swell of conversation that swirled in the room like acrid smoke. Catching the quick eyes and faster tongues of the crowd, she felt like public property. She didn’t like it.

And she liked it even less as the evening wore on. After the elaborate buffet was unveiled in the dining room and picked away at, the crowd returned to the grand living room for an evening of dancing and dessert. If she’d thought her big entrance was bad, she found the ball intolerable. Men who’d spent the evening looking at her finally had a socially acceptable excuse to touch her. Once on the dance floor, their intentions were obvious, earning her more vicious looks from their wives. After an hour, she had a headache coming on from the clash of a dozen different colognes and she was exhausted from fighting off cloying arms.

The life of a siren was overrated, A.J. decided, scratching her nose.

Not able to stand another dance, she tried to take refuge in conversation, only to get trapped by a former English professor who’d retired from his day job at a prestigious university but hadn’t given up his avocation for being a verbose blowhard. He was a curmudgeonly old man, with white hair growing out of everywhere. There were little tufts at his ears, twin hedges over his eyes, a section of beard under his chin, which he’d been missing for quite some time.

As he droned on, A.J. put herself on autopilot and found she was more than ready for the speeches to start, the white chestnut cake to be cut and the evening to come to an end. The fact that her toes were numb and she was tired of feeling like she was walking on top of a fence didn’t make time pass any faster.

“So that, my dear, is the difference between crass innovation and an enduring classic,” Professor Rogaine’s voice crescendoed as another couple of people joined them.
Though they did dilute the elderly man’s dull conversation, A.J. found herself squirming under the eyes of one guy who seemed all too interested in what she might have been hiding in her bodice. She felt like asking him whether he thought he’d lost his wallet down there.

Breaking free from the group, she pivoted, only to find herself caught in another tight knot of people. Her escape foiled, she tried to take a deep breath but all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room. Her chest grew tight.

All this and now she was coming face-to-face with claustrophobia. She eyed the doorway with desperation and ambition. She was about to bolt, had committed to making a bid for freedom, even if it meant missing her father’s birthday toast, when she saw a guard there was no sneaking past. Between her and the salvation of the stairway stood Regina, holding court.

Her stepmother was addressing a crowd flamboyantly. She was flanked by Peter and Garrett, two human topiaries she watered with adoring looks but clipped into place with a fast remark if they got more attention than she did. The courtiers around her clung to her every word like it was a toehold on greatness, which explained the happiness radiating from her face.

Or maybe that was just reflected light bouncing off all the jewels, A.J. thought, taking in the choker of diamonds and pearls around Regina’s neck and the pair of matching earrings that dangled from her lobes.

Peter caught A.J. eyeing the group and gave her a stiff nod. By unspoken agreement, the two had studiously ignored each other over the past week. Seeing him across the room, she became even more determined to leave.

As she turned toward the doors that led out to the rear terrace, she halted, feeling odd. She looked down at her flute of champagne. It hadn’t been touched and she hadn’t finished her one glass of wine.

It couldn’t be the alcohol, she thought.

Maybe all the insomnia she’d been suffering from was catching up to her?

Even though she tried to shake it off, the sensation persisted.
A quick look behind didn’t yield an explanation, just more of the same people she was determined to get away from. Craning her neck, she peeked over more carefully coiffed heads, wondering what the eerie feeling was all about.

Then she saw Devlin.

Gasping in shock, she watched as he scanned the room. As soon as he saw her, he started moving through the congestion. There was single-minded purpose to his expression but something far warmer in his eyes as he looked at her.

A.J.’s heart began to pound and she felt dizzy, as a feeling of dislocation took over. The sounds of people’s voices and the clinking of glasses, the music and the dancing, everything disappeared except for the image of him striding through the crowd.

Confusing emotions blocked out reason. She was thrilled to see him but still hurt and angry. Ready to hear what he had to say but certain the conversation needed to be private. Pleased that he’d made the effort.

And overwhelmed by how beautiful he was.

In his tuxedo, Devlin was devastatingly handsome. His wide shoulders filled out the midnight jacket like an I beam and the startling white of the shirt brought out the tan in his skin. He moved with the same grace and power he always had, as if the formal clothes were nothing special and the glittering guests were of no more note than stable boys and grooms.

He was who he was, no matter what the surroundings.

She really liked that about him.

Her body flushed with heat and her hand tightened on her champagne flute until she thought it might snap. A powerful impulse to go to him struck her, as though he were her magnetic north. And the pull got stronger the closer he came to her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked when he stopped a few feet away. She sounded breathless to her own ears.

“You said it was important for me to come. I didn’t want to let you down. Again.”

The sound of his voice was like the stroke of his hand over her skin. Enticing and yet tender. She felt his eyes
travel across her shoulders, over the swell of her breasts, down into the dip of her waist. She watched his pupils dilate with a yearning he didn’t hide. When their eyes met again, there was a fierce heat in his. She couldn’t help but be moved even though she remained wary.

“You are very beautiful,” he said roughly.

Before she could respond, a man inserted himself between them. She watched Devlin’s expression darken.

“I’m Cosgood Rhett the Fourth,” he said in an imperious voice as he slipped his arm around A.J.’s waist. “Your father does business with mine, remember? Anyway, I believe it’s my turn. I’ve been waiting all night.”

Devlin stepped in the way, laying a hand on the guy’s shoulder. It wasn’t a friendly gesture.

“And you’re going to wait a little longer. Like until hell freezes over.”

The intruder’s face registered a glare until he looked into the icy pair of eyes trained on him. A.J. suppressed an inappropriate giggle as the hand fell quickly from her waist and a variety of apologies were offered.

“Thanks,” she said after the man left. “It’s been a long night.”

“I bet,” Devlin growled as he watched the other guy disappear.

When he looked back at her, his expression softened.

“That dress is…” His voice trailed off. And his eyes finished the sentence.

“It’s all a lie, if you want to know the truth. My feet hurt, the zipper itches and I think I lost an olive down the bodice.”

“I have to say it again. You’re so beautiful.”

Her expression reflected pleasure and caution.

“How’s the arm?” he asked.

“Better every day.”

“Sabbath really misses you.”

“I’ve been trying to keep in his good graces by bringing carrots. I don’t know if the bribe’s working but he’s getting plenty of beta-carotene. I’m guessing Chester’s been trying to lunge him?”

“That’s right.”

“The poor man must be going out of his mind.”

“They’re both getting tired of each other. And they’re not too fond of me, either.” At her curious look, he explained, “I haven’t been so easy to be around lately.”

“Oh?”

In a low voice, he said, “I miss you. So much it hurts.”

Her eyes flickered from his, trained on the champagne glass.

“A.J., I’ve tried to stay away, just like you asked. But I can’t do it any longer. Is there somewhere we can go and talk?”

“You must be Devlin McCloud,” Regina said with a strident voice.

A.J. turned and saw her stepmother look Devlin over like he was a pork chop up for inspection. He must have passed as Grade A meat because a moment later the woman extended a bejeweled hand to him.

“Welcome. I’m Regina Sutherland,” she said, giving him her best social smile. Broad and calculated, it was a cheerful facade that did nothing to hide her hard edges. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The woman shot A.J. a look and, like tractor beams, her dark eyes narrowed on the ruby earrings.

My father’s going to pay for these twice, A.J. thought.

“I’m a gate crasher,” Devlin was replying.

“Well, I’m glad our gate was crashed,” Regina cooed.

Peter came up behind his mother.

“I didn’t know you had a date,” he said to A.J. dryly.

“Of course, you’ve met my son,” Regina offered. “Being in the horse business, I’m sure you’ve heard about him.”

“Most people have,” Devlin replied.

She beamed, missing the point.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to dance with A.J.,” Devlin said.

“There’s time for that later,” Regina dismissed. “You really must come and meet—”

“A.J.?” He held out his arm.

Regina blinked as if she’d been addressed in a foreign tongue. “But surely—”

Devlin smiled and began to lead A.J. away.

As they left, Peter grabbed her arm. “You should make sure you’re here for the speeches. You might hear some news of interest.”

A.J. shrugged him off. With Devlin at her side, she had more important things to think about.

As soon as she and Devlin were on the dance floor, she felt familiar arms come around her and pull her close. Despite their clothes, her body responded as if they were skin to skin and she felt him harden. Heart in her throat, she allowed herself the dangerous pleasure of leaning into him and smelling his cedar soap.