Page 32 of Just The Way You Aren't

“I wasn’t prepared for… all of this.” He sighs again. “You’re not making this easy for me, Willow.”

I take a risk and pat his thigh. Good lord, it’s as firm as the rest of him. “Don’t worry. We’ll have dinner. I’ll make a speech. Then you can take me home.”

Damien’s green eyes look at my hand on his leg and smolder when he looks back at me. “Oh, I’d love to take you home.”

He doesn’t mean my home, and we both know it. My breath catches. For all my wondering and doubting, there’s no misreading him now. Damien Langley wants me. Possibly as much as I want him.

But he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he concentrates hard on the road, his knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel.

When we get to the country club, he gets out of the car and comes around to my side to help me out. He then hands the keys to the valet and waits while I smooth out the skirt ofmy dress and attempt to smooth out my hair. Key word, attempt.

Despite his support up the steps to the front doors of the elegant venue, I teeter and totter and wobble.

He gives me an easy smile. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

I grip his jacket sleeve in desperation. “I’m sorry.”

Without a word, he peels my hand off him. I’m almost afraid he’s going to abandon me there, but then he squeezes my hand and puts his arm around me, holding me up against him. “Let’s try it this way, shall we?” he murmurs in my ear.

I think I might have goosebumps even on my polished toenails. I smile gratefully at him and let him support me as we make our way into the country club.

The prestigious club has been completely reserved for the Alzheimer’s Search for the Cure event tonight. Beautiful women of all ages move gracefully across the polished floors in dresses that belong on top designers’ fashion runways. They also don’t seem to have any trouble on their high heels.

I wish I could say the same for me. This is going to be a disaster. I’m going to embarrass Silver Hearts by falling over the podium, I just know it.

Damien tightens his arm around me. “We’re in this together,” he assures me. “I won’t let you fall.”

My heart beats double-time, but not because of fear. Well, at least not from fear of falling. Okay, not from fear of falling over on high heels. There’s a different kind of falling I need to be worried about. “Okay,” I whisper.

He smiles at me, then helps me move around the room. The reception period is in full swing. The majority of people seem to have congregated in certain areas, near the bar or clustered around the sea of tables. Others take their seats and tuck in for the evening, waiting for the event to begin.Damien’s presence attracts a small crowd, and I’m more than happy to be by his side while he waves to people he knows and shakes hands. They seem a bit startled when they see him, and I decide it has to be because he’s smiling the whole time. It’s not his usual nature.

My suspicions are confirmed when a glittering matriarch of some old-money family pats him on the lapel. “Goodness, Mr. Langley, I’ve never seen you so happy! Is it this little gem who has you in such a good mood?”

Damien’s smile falters, but I grin wide enough for both of us. “Damien’s been so lovely this evening. He’s been helping my organization so much. I hope you’ll stay for my talk about Silver Hearts.”

“Silver Hearts? Oh yes! I saw in the paper that Damien is volunteering there. You must be Willow Harper.” She leans in a little, taking in my appearance. “My, you do clean up nicely. And so good with the press. Unlike this one.” She laughs and pats him on the lapel again. “I’m eager to hear more about your organization. It sounds like a truly worthy cause.”

“Thank you. I hope I don’t disappoint.” I smile back. I look up at him and give him a nudge.

Damien recovers a tight smile that turns to something more genuine when he looks down at me. “Thank you, Mrs. Hollingsworth. It’s been lovely to talk to you this evening. We should?—”

“You should dance,” she says with authority, the jewels dripping from her ears clinking together with her vigorous nod. “You can’t bring a beautiful girl to an event like this and not dance with her. It wouldn’t be right.”

Damien lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “All right, Mrs. Hollingsworth. If you insist.”

“I do.” She taps her cane on the floor and points in the direction of the dance floor. “Well, get to it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He guides me over to the dance floor.

I’m sure I’m going to flounder around like a frog in a blender on these heels, but Damien holds me close. I wrap my arms around his neck and, when I stop concentrating on my shoes making the right moves and actually look him in the eyes, I realize they’re smoldering again.

“I like this,” he says, his deep voice a low rasp. “You feel… good in my arms.”

I’m not sure how I’m not immediately rendered incapable of speech. “I… I think so, too. You. Your arms. Me in them.” I blush, wishing the dance floor would open up and swallow me. “Yeah. You know what I mean.”

He smirks. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

We dance without saying anything more. He doesn’t twirl me in circles, but he does make me look a lot more graceful than I am. Damien’s feet lead with ease as he guides me from one end of the dance floor to another. This is not the dancing I did in middle school or high school in my sneakers and denim skirt. This is the sort of dancing they do in the movies, the kind a girl like me has long since accepted as just fiction. But here, in this moment, I’m acutely aware of how real Damien is.

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