Page 168 of Boyfriend of the Hour
“You look…” He scanned me up and down, his mouth moving like a fish’s. “Unbelievable.”
I looked down at the pleated skirt, then back up to him. “I’m glad you like it. You don’t look so bad yourself, Double-Oh-Seven.”
He appeared confused for a moment, but the frown quickly broke. “Oh, James Bond.” That produced an adorably shy smile. “Too bad I don’t care for martinis.”
I grinned back. “No. But you do like your sparkling water with a twist.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “I don’t know why that makes me want to shove you against the wall over there, but it really does,” he said, unable to keep his eyes off my lips. With some obvious effort, he dragged them away and took my hand. “Let’s go inside. I’d like to get this evening over with so I can take you home and fuck you in that dress.”
I shouldn’t have been shocked by his vulgar language—already, I knew that Nathan wasn’t one for innuendo. But for him to state his desire so openly and calmly only steps away from some of the richest people in New York, the most proper, I assumed…Yeah, that turned me on more than I could say.
I leaned in and brushed a kiss to his cheek, then murmured into his ear, “Only if you keep the tux on while you do it, babe.”
I nipped his ear, enjoying the full body shudder as I pulled away.
Nathan shook his head and mumbled something like “fucking torture” before he tugged me up the stairs and into the museum to show his parents, his brothers, and his entire world that he could be who they wanted him to be.
We followed the trail of people walking through an exhibit on biodiversity, then into the Hall of Ocean Life, where the gala was set up beneath the iconic blue whale suspended from the high, lit ceiling.
I’d been here more than once as a kid. The Museum of Natural History was a common site for field trips, and I’d gone at least once at every school I’d attended through high school. But never at night, like this, with twinkle lights wrapped around the pillars extending to the ceiling, the models of oceanic life haunting us from the corners, and the rest of the room filled with linen-covered tables, a dance floor near the front, and a stage where a band already played big band swing.
“Wow,” I murmured as I took in the scene.
On top of the opulent surroundings, the room was filled with what could politely be called the glitterati of New York. They were mostly older. Mostly white. And mostly rich. Very, very rich.
But it wasn’t what kids in my neighborhood thought of when they imagined wealth. There weren’t gold chains, Birkin bags, or logos on everything. The wealth in this room was quiet,almost uniform. Men in tuxedos, just like Nathan’s, with strong handshakes and insincere smiles; women arrayed with subdued diamonds, porcelain skin, and tastefully draped evening gowns. Nothing so flashy as mine. The jewelry they did wear was sedate and tasteful. No one had a hair out of place, too big or too small. They all just blended into one big moneyed tapestry.
And here I was, flashing like a strobe.
Nathan reached down to take my hand, which had been pulling at my skirt, and tucked it into his arm. “You don’t need to be nervous.”
I turned to him. “How can you say that? I don’t fit in here at all.”
He glanced back at the room, but his gaze returned to me. “Joni, why would you think I’d ever want you to fit in?” He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Just the way you are, remember?”
It was like he knew what was written on that list.
He pulled back but cupped my face, drifting a thumb over my mouth, then pressed a gentle kiss there. When he stood up straight, I stood with him, newly energized.
Just the way I was. Now, I just needed to remember my posture and to keep my mouth shut.
It shouldn’t be too hard when the whole room rendered me speechless.
Nathan guided me to a table near the front with the name HUNTWELL printed on a placard in the middle next to a vase of pink peonies. We were the first ones sitting here to arrive. I spotted his coworkers at another nearby table; Reagan waved at me and gestured that she loved my dress. I smiled in response.
“I’ll have to introduce you to a lot of people in this room,” Nathan said as a caterer arrived with a tray of champagne. To my surprise, Nathan took flutes for us both and handed me one.
“Drinking tonight?” I asked.
He took a grim gulp. “Trust me. We’ll both need it.” He finished off the glass and replaced it with another from a passing server. “The richest people in the tri-state area are in this room. It makes them kind of bloodthirsty.”
I frowned. “Aren’t they here togivemoney away?”
Nathan shook his head. “Events like these are never really about the charities; they’re places for the powerful to convene. Every person here is on the hunt.”
We looked around. Suddenly, I was imagining everyone in the room with fangs.
“My sister Marie cooks for a really rich family in Westchester,” I said. “That’s why she’s in Paris. They sent her to some fancy cooking school so she could take over for their chef, who’s retiring.”
