Circe stared mutely at his profile.
He looked again to her.
“Do you need some ice?” he queried.
She remained silent, staring at him.
Then, suddenly, she appeared to get visibly woozy, her torso swaying gracefully (if a bit drunkenly) and in order not to collapse at his feet, she lifted a hand and placed it on his biceps.
At her touch, they both froze.
In fact, it felt like the entirety of the room froze.
I held my breath.
They gazed into each other’s eyes.
Circe started swaying again.
This time…
Forward.
I felt my lips curl up in what I knew was undisguised glee.
I barely heard Dax’s next.
But I heard it.
“Honey,” he whispered, a teasing lilt to his deep voice, most assuredly a man who knew his effect on women, and right then most assuredly pleased he was having that effect on Circe. “You need to speak.”
“You’re…” Circe trailed off but began again. “You are…”
Not taking his one hand from her waist, Dax lifted his other in the (minimal) space between them, an offer for her to take it in greeting.
“Dax Lahn,” he introduced at the same exact time she breathed, “Mine.”
I saw his very broad shoulders straighten with surprise at her assertion.
Then I saw the color drain from her face.
“Shit, fuck, fuck,” Noc bit out low, the vicinity of his voice telling me he was standing behind my chair.
“I’m sorry,” Circe said, swaying again.
This time back.
Drat!
“So, so sorry. So…very…sorry,” she chanted, her cheeks now flaming.
She took a hasty step away out of Dax’s hold, glanced at our table and then turned on her attractive champagne-colored, spike-heeled sandal and dashed gracefully (thank the Goddess Adele, no trips, or worse, falls) out of the restaurant.
Drat!
I quickly pushed back my chair, aiming it away from Noc who was still standing behind me. I rose and darted after her.
“Frannie,” Noc called on a clip.
“Do you know her?” Dax asked as I passed him.
I kept darting even as I looked over my shoulder and assured, “Give me but a moment. We’ll be back.”
I only caught half a glance at Noc, and seeing in that scant second his expression, I had a feeling he might also offer spankings for other reasons.
I couldn’t think of that.
I had to get to Circe, calm her down and then get her to our table, smooth things out and do what clearly would be minimal work at finishing making a match.
I made it through the seating area, the bar, the reception and out the front door.
I looked right.
No Circe.
I looked left and saw her rolling up on her toes with impatience as she shouted after the black-short-pants-white-shirt-wearing fellow who took Noc’s SUV when we’d arrived and drove it away (Noc’s explanation: a “valet”).
“Please hurry!” I heard her cry after him. “It’s an emergency!”
Blast!
“Circe,” I called.
She whipped my way, looking at me, beyond me fearfully, then at me, all in a blink of an eye.
And then her beautiful face grew hard.
I hurried to her (as much as I hurried, it was undignified to do thus so I didn’t do it, shall we say, noticeably) and I was three feet away when she lifted a hand, jabbed a pointed finger at the restaurant and accused, “This is what Valentine was up to and I can see she roped you into it too.”
I stopped walking and started speaking, “Circe, we—”
She leaned toward me, jabbing her hand again at the building, and hissed, “I made a fool of myself in there.”
Ah.
That was her concern.
I smiled at her. “You absolutely did not. You couldn’t have made a more effective entrance if we’d practiced it.”
She leaned back, her face still set. “Yes. However, we didn’t practice it because I had no idea what I was walking into.”
“I think it’s pretty clear it went better this way,” I shared as if I was a teacher instructing a student.
“You do?” she asked, but she didn’t wish an answer for she immediately did that herself. “Well I don’t.”
I didn’t understand.
“He’s clearly taken with you,” I noted. “And he’s thus and you barely spoke a word.”
“Has it occurred to you I don’t want him to be taken with me?” she shot back.
How absurd.
I’d simply witnessed what had happened in there.
She felt it.
“Circe, you may try to convince yourself—”
I only got half of that out and stopped talking altogether for she was talking over me.
“No. It hasn’t occurred to you, or Valentine. If it had, you wouldn’t have orchestrated that debacle I was just forced to perpetrate.”
It was then I felt the tickle of unease in my belly.
“My dear, that was not a debacle. It was—”
“Humiliating,” she spat.
I swung back at the emotion in her tone then took a step forward, lifting a hand her way.
“Please, let me expla—”
She didn’t even allow me to finish that.
“No explanation needed,” she snapped, looked high above my shoulder and a change came over her face that cut straight through to the bone. “Did you know?” she asked, her voice no longer angry, but broken.
Oh no.
“Circe,” Noc said gently.
“You knew,” she whispered, the expression on her face now one of a woman betrayed.