Page 32 of If Ever

"I damn well hope so. If he doesn't, the boy's a fool."

I hang my head in embarrassment. "I should go back to my apartment."

"Calm down. Every woman in the room turns into a giggling idiot when he's near. You didn't."

Sure enough I glance at the women Tom's talking to. They're all grinning like fangirls, and Cassie gives out a laugh that sounds like a high-pitched cackle.

"No worries, Chelsea. You were your lovely self."

"You mean caustic self?"

He pats my hand. "That's my girl. And if a man doesn't love you for that, he's the wrong one. Now let's get some food. I've only had one trip to the buffet, and my belly can hold plenty more."

I mound my plate with little meatballs, stuffed mushrooms and quesadillas. Dominic and some of the others join Hank and I.

I pretend not to watch Tom, but it's impossible not to notice him being maneuvered through the room. I swallow down a meatball along with a stab of jealousy. After twenty minutes of Hank and I speculating what the theme is for next week, Dominic, Sonya, and Pavel refuse to give us a hint, I finish my drink and reach for my handbag. "Hank, I'm going to head out."

"I don't think so," he says.

"I'm whipped. These long days are catching up with me." I don't usually relive my past for the world to see, and I truly am exhausted.

Hank touches my arm. There’s a twinkle in his eye. "You're not going anywhere, sweetheart." He looks at something behind me. I turn and there is Tom with his easy smile and warm eyes. I fight to stay cool and not "light up" as Hank implied.

"I thought I'd never get away from everyone. This is the chattiest cast I've ever met," Tom says.

I force a smile. I wouldn't agree, but I'm also not the hot, British visitor from New York City.

Hank drains his glass and slams it on the table. "Hang around long enough and they'll talk you to death. It's time for this old man to go home and take his pills."

"I was just heading out myself," I say.

"You can't leave. This is my last night in L.A.,” Tom says, and the tone of his voice and his playful eyes make me want to stay, but I also don't want to act the embarrassing fangirl.

"I don't know. I've had a long day."

"One more dance won't hurt." Tom cocks his head and looks so hopeful and sweet. I don't understand why he's giving me all this attention when the more polished and talented Cassie and crew are a couple tables away.

Hank bumps my shoulder with his. "Chelsea, when a charming young man invites you dance, you don't say no. My God, you young kids are thicker than bricks." Hank shakes his head and moseys for the door, ignoring our laughter.

"Well, when he puts it that way, how can I refuse?"

Tom holds out a hand, and I place mine in his warm grip. As we reach the dance floor the music changes to a ballad and he sweeps me into his arms as if he planned it this way.

The bar has thinned out, allowing us more room on the dance floor. Tom's breath warms my cheek. I inhale his cologne and wonder what it's called so I can secretly buy some and be reminded of him after he's gone.

"Having a good time?" His steady hand on my lower back guides me.

"I am. You?"

"You bet. I actually know a couple of the pro dancers."

"Who?"

"Carlos was in a show with a friend of mine, and Cassie was in the ensemble of a show last year."

The stab of jealousy strikes again. "I wondered if maybe you knew each other."

He laughs. "Cassie is a terrific dancer, but subtlety is not one of her strong points." He spins us on the floor. Releasing my hand, he slips his to my waist dragging me closer. My heart flutters as I slide my arms around his neck, my arms resting on his shoulders. He feels great—so at ease, and yet in total control.

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