Page 33 of Acquiring Ainsley
“As long as the check clears, you’re in, ticket buyer.” She grinned. “You know, for a man who always wants to portray himself as confident, you really are insecure on the inside.”
I thumped a fist to my chest. “Guilty as charged.”
I snatched some champagne from the tray of a passing server and tucked the glass into the feminine curve of her palm, took one drink for myself, and guided her to the silent auction at the far end of the room. Jewelry, paintings, vacations, and spa gift cards stretched out on the long table.
“How many silent auctions have you seen in your lifetime?” I asked her.
She laughed. “Too many to count.” She raised her glass to mine and clinked it. “To beginnings.”
“To beginnings.” I drank my sip and didn’t take my gaze off her. Ainsley was gorgeous, refined, and sophisticated in a way most women who entered my world never were, and I liked that about her.
“I suppose we should bid on a few things,” I said when we finished the toast. “Start the process, right?”
She glanced around the room, then back to me. “Really?”
“Whatever you want.” I spread a hand. “Bid on anything.”
She turned and regarded a large Cartier necklace. It had sapphires the size of quarters and a platinum setting. The accompanying card said it retailed for $10,500. “How about this?” She took the pen off the clipboard in front of it. “No takers so far.”
“Fine with me,” I said.
She wrote down the number we’d received at check-in, then moved to a villa rental on the Amalfi Coast of Italy. A week there retailed for a starting price of $25,000, not including airfare. “I think I’ll bid on this one, too. Sounds fun.”
“And who will you go with if you win?” I drank some more champagne. The room had begun to fill up with people, and I saw a few who knew me. No one had walked over to us, though—at least, not yet.
“Hmmm… I’ll have to really think about that one. Tough call.” She wrote down her name and bid ten grand. “I doubt I’ll get it, but it’s fun to try.”
She did the same for a few other items, and just as she wrote her name down on the fifth one, Sylvia Donald, one of Palm Beach’s most well-known gossip columnists, approached us. “Ainsley Ross,” she trilled across the room. “I had no idea you were on the guest list tonight.”
Ainsley gave Sylvia a small hug and kissed her on both cheeks. “Well, I like to keep things a secret sometimes; you know that.”
“You’ve never attended this event before.” Sylvia’s voice had a small vocal fry, and she tremored a little when she spoke. Sylvia reigned as Palm Beach’s leading social columnist. She’d been writing about Palm Beach comings and goings for at least the last twenty years, and I’d read her work inNew York Social,Palm Beach Scene,The Palm Beach Daily News, andVanity Fair. “I guess there is a first time for everything, though.” She adjusted the signature, black-rimmed glasses that she never seemed to leave home without. “And this is a wonderful cause. Fifteen thousand refugees helped just this year.”
“I’ve always wanted to attend, but the timing has been off.” Ainsley stepped closer me. “Sylvia, do you know Trevor McNamara?”
I extended my hand, and as Sylvia took it, a laugh escaped her lips. “But of course, I do, dear. We’ve never met, but I know him by reputation alone. Mr. McNamara, what a pleasure.”
“The feeling is mutual.” We dropped hands.
“And did I hear correctly? You’re getting married to Ainsley?” Sylvia gave Ainsley a conspiratorial grin. “Something about a whirlwind romance.”
“That’s right.” Ainsley took a step toward me. “Our families have known each other for years, but when we finally reconnected, things progressed very fast.”
Sylvia regarded us. “If by knowing each other, you’re referring the long-standing rivalry between your two families, then I would consider this quite a development, right?”
“Yes,” I said, careful to keep my voice even.
She smiled. “I wonder what your father would say, Ainsley.”
Ainsley stiffened. “I’m sure he’d approve.” She looked over and tossed me a wide smile. “Besides, what happened between our parents is all in the past. In fact, I like to think of it as something that eventually brought us together.”
“Wonderful.” Sylvia raised her own champagne glass in a mock toast aimed at the two of us. “I’m only sorry that I had to read about it inPage Sixfirst.”
“What can I say? She swept me off my feet.”
And then, as if on cue, my arm slipped around Ainsley’s narrow waist. It seemed like such a natural thing to do in the moment, that I didn’t realize until a half-breath later the enormity of what I’d done. Apart from the proposal in the restaurant, this was the first time I’d really touched her, the first time I’d felt her slip into the gray area we’d been steadily building for the last few weeks.
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t stiffen. And she didn’t pull away.
