Page 10 of A Secret and a Lie
Is he imagining what’s beneath this dress? Is he wondering how I might taste?Fuck, I hope so. God knows that’s exactly what I’m doing to him.
“Are you working tonight?” he asks, invading my space a little more. He’s close now, enough that I can smell him. The scents of black pepper and tobacco whirl through the air between us, as if picked up by a gentle zephyr, tickling my nostrils.
“Are you?” I counter, skirting his question.
“No more than you, I presume.” This time, his smirkis deep enough that a goddamn dimple surfaces on his left cheek.As if this man needed to get any hotter.
Instead of answering, I smile. While Julienispaying me to be on his arm tonight, I like attending these functions for my own benefit as well.
After all, it’s always good to remind this city who owns them…and their secrets.
The silence that stretches between us is staticky, like we’re caught up in a typhoon of electrically charged atoms and there’s no escape without consequences.
He lifts a hand then, dragging his knuckles up my bare arm, leaving a path of chills in his wake. At my shoulder, he skims his hand gingerly down my back, tentative and exploring. I know I should step back, stop this. I should, but I don’t. He’s wordlessly put me at his mercy, and I don’t want to be anywhere but at this man’s feet.
When his hand reaches the small of my back, he pulls me to him, erasing the last of the distance. When he speaks, I can smell the whiskey on his breath, the smoky barrel-aged flavor skimming across my senses. “I was wondering if—”
“There you are,” Julien interrupts from behind me, cutting off whatever Ford was about to say. Shifting back, I take in Julien’s dark, louring expression.
My attention darts between the two men as they size each other up, soaking up all the air from the foyer like sponges. Reading the room, I decide my conversation with Ford has come to an end.
“It was nice to see you again.” I smile politely at Ford, slipping from his hold and turning toward Julien. As I take a step away, I’m cold, too cold, the skirt of my silk gown swirling around my legs like icy, serene lake water.
Just before reaching Julien, I glance back at the handsome man as he stuffs both hands into his pants pockets. Leaning into my baser instincts for a fraction of a moment, a smile curls my lips, and I dip my chin.“Sir.”
I memorize what happens next: Ford’s lips part, his chestexpands and nostrils flare, as his eyes widen so far that I’m able to catch the way his pupils dilate.
Nailed that.
Taking Julien’s offered arm, he guides us back to the ballroom. He snatches another flute of champagne for me off a passing tray. “How do you know Ford Crawford?”
I titter softly. “I don’t.”
The way he hums makes me wonder if he doesn’t believe me, not that it matters. Idon’tknow Ford Crawford, even if part of mewantsto. It’s that craving that has me asking, “Who is he?”
He takes a drink of his scotch, glancing past me for a moment before meeting my eye. “One of the two most powerful people here. Ford Crawford has more money than God and clout that spans continents.”
“Interesting. I’ve never heard of him.”Which is highly unusual.
He smirks, his expression softening. “Ah, but you’ve heard of Oliver Crawford?”
“The businessman?” I inquire, my eyebrows rising. “Of course. He was one of the richest men alive.”
My throat squeezes, knowing where this is going even before Julien explains, “His death granted his grandson, Ford, that title.”
I shouldn’t be surprised, and I suppose I’m not, though something about Ford is different from the other filthy rich men I encounter regularly. Sure, power and authority leak from Ford like oil from an old engine, but he seems grounded, down-to-earth. Like he’s seen the real world. Which is exactly how I find myself asking, “What’s he been doing all this time?”
“He did a couple tours with the Marines before gallivanting across Europe. That’s what I heard, anyway.”
I’m about to comment on his intel—which I can’t imagine being true—when he continues. “Promise you’ll watch out with that one.” His attention is locked somewhere past me, and I can only surmise who has it.
I nod anyway. I’m always careful, regardless of the warning.
As Julien leads us toward the silent auction, I think to ask, “You said that Ford was one of the two most powerful people in this room. Who’s the other one?”
He turns his head, dipping his chin to look down at me, holding my gaze intensely. “You.”
Ford
