oin us.”
She shook her head. “I’m not here to party.”
He mimed that he couldn’t hear her and waved her closer. Savannah held her ground, not relishing the idea of becoming one of his groupies. If she’d felt out of place downstairs, that was nothing compared to the humiliation of standing on display for Trent’s fashion-forward friends. Pity, boredom and mockery made up their expressions as they judged her.
In the year and a half since she and Rafe had become a couple, she’d adapted to his preferred style. Her husband had dictated that she wear her hair sleek and fill her closet with elegant clothes worthy of a CEO’s wife. Tonight, she’d been thinking along the lines of business rather than clubbing when she’d left the suite wearing a sheath of red satin and sheer checkerboard squares over a nude lining. It covered her from collarbone to knee and made her stand out from the crowd in the worst way possible.
“I need to speak to you.” As much as she hated raising her voice, the loud dance music required her to shout to be heard.
“Just one drink.” He signaled the waitress. “One drink and we can talk right here.”
She was not going to go sit beside Trent and pretend that the way he’d treated her this last year and a half hadn’t bothered her. Because it had. She’d been angry with Trent for refusing to even consider making a commitment to her and tormented by guilt for marrying his brother for all the wrong reasons.
Savannah crossed her arms over her chest. She might have to beg for Trent’s help, but she wouldn’t let him see her humiliation at needing to do so.
“I’d prefer our conversation to be a private one.”
She’d never negotiated with Trent and won. The man never seemed to care whether or not he got what he wanted. He was always ready to walk away from the bargaining table, which gave him an advantage.
They stared at each other—each determined to have their way—until the music and the lights faded to insignificance in the background. Trent’s gaze toured her body with lazy intensity as he waited for her to surrender to his will. It bothered Savannah how much she wanted to give in to him.
His power over her hadn’t faded one bit. Her thoughts were jumbled as she was overwhelmed by the urge to taste his sexy mouth and feel his hands roaming all over her. Their lovemaking had always been hot and satisfying. He’d spent an exceptional amount of time getting to know her body’s every sensitive spot. An ache blossomed inside her. It had been nineteen long months since she’d last been with him, and her every nerve was on fire with anticipation.
Coming here tonight had been a bad idea. She should have held out for a civilized meeting in his office. Instead, she was filled with a recklessness inspired by the dance music’s heavy beat and her own dangerous desire.
She had to go.
Cat Schield lives in Minnesota with her daughter and 2 Burmese cats and a Doberman. Winner of the Romance Writers of America 2010 Golden Heart® for series contemporary romance, when she's not writing sexy, romantic stories for Harlequin Desire, she can be found sailing with friends on the St. Croix River or more exotic locales like the Caribbean and Europe. Contact her at
http://catschield.net
