Page 67 of Who's Your Daddy
Yet here he is, that mischievous smirk playing on his lips seems to come to him so easily.
With a grunt, Cal eyes the hand Fisher still has on the back of my chair.
“Anyway,” Fisher says. He finally moves that hand, but only to hold it out to me. “I thought I’d ask the lovely Lola for a spin around the dance floor.”
Every eye lands on me, and suddenly, my cheeks get warm. I shift in my chair, reminding myself that the whole point of being here is to schmooze. I should be as charming as Cal has been. Otherwise, there was no point to him bringing me along.
“I’d love to.” I take Fisher’s offered hand and allow him to lead me toward the dance floor.
My skin tingles under Cal’s gaze as I walk away. At the edge of the dance floor, I finally glance back.
He’s…Is he glaring? I’ve never seen such an unhappy expression on the man’s face, yet his eyes are narrowed and his jaw is rigid. He stands and takes a step in our direction. For a heartbeat, I think he’s coming after me and I don’t hate that idea.
But after another step, he turns his back to us and heads toward the bar.
I swallow the disappointment. It’s silly really, to be hurt that he isn’t chasing me down to claim me, to stop me from dancing withanother man. That kind of gesture only happens in fairy tales and romance books. Not real life.Plus, Cal doesn't chase women. They come for him. And I amnotcoming for Cal.
Also, we’re mingling. That’s why we’re here. This isn’t some silly fantasy date. It’s ridiculous to think that any man would buy the most gorgeous dress for me, then fly me to Boston for a romantic weekend.
“So you and Cal, huh?” Fisher spins and gently rests a hand on my waist.
With a shake of my head, I fall into the standard slow-dance-with-an-acquaintance pose, one hand on his shoulder, the other clutched in his. “He just needed someone to come with him this weekend.”
“Hmm.” He shakes his head, lips pursed. “I’m not sure his perspective matches yours.” He tips his chin, then does a quarter-turn.
Sure enough, Cal, eyes blazing, is heading our way towing Libby by the arm.
His footsteps on the dance floor are loud enough to be heard over the music as he shoves the starlet Fisher’s way.
“Yours.” Tone sharp, he releases her. Then he clutches my hand and yanks me into his chest. “Mine.”
Stunned, I gape up at him. Did he just—did that just—wait, did Callahan Murphy just claim me?
“Mine?” I whisper-hiss.
The hard expression from a moment ago evaporates completely, his eyes soft as he brushes his thumb over my lips, once, twice. “Shhh, Lola, you’ll ruin it.” With a slow smile, he guides my head to his chest and presses a chaste kiss to my crown. It’s so quick it feels like butterflies just danced across my skin.
Normally, those words would rankle me, but absurdly, I don’t want to ruin the moment. This man really did come after me. He did want to claim me. And Callahan Murphy chases no one.
Pulling back a fraction, I study his face.
He watches me, his expression open. Like he really sees me. And more than that, he likes what he sees. Like he wants me. Desperately.
I should stay away, but all of a sudden, I can’t remember why. Would it really be such a bad thing to have this one night? Maybe we both need it. And I sure as hell want it.
“I’m not ruining anything,” I promise. Popping up on the toes of my Jimmy Choos, I press my lips to his.
For one perfect moment, he kisses me back, but a fraction of a second later he pulls away.
My stomach bottoms out as he releases his hold on me. Have I read the entire night wrong? Was I way off base when I noted the desire in his expression?
Before my mind spirals out, he grasps my wrist and drags me off the dance floor.
“Cal, I’m sorry,” I stutter, wobbling on my heels. “I just thought?—”
“Shhh, you’ll ruin it.” The words rumble from deep in his chest, far more seriously than the last time he spoke them, as he guides me through the door and into the empty hallway.
Spinning, he presses me against the wall and cages me in with his entire body. When he tucks a curl away from my face and cups my cheek, my breath catches. And when he drops his head, closing the space between us, my knees go weak.
