“Cute.”
“I try.” She smiled brightly, and he was glad to see it. She hadn’t been doing a lot of that since the scumbag she’d been planning to marry had called it off. It was one of the reasons he’d been willing to fork over the sponsorship for this particular event. It was her first project since coming back to Seattle after her fiancé and partner in their San Francisco event-planning business had become an ex in every way.
“Not that I’m surprised,” Beatrice mused, “but you never said she was so pretty.” She poked him in the side. “What are you standing here for? Go talk to her.”
“Did you send a press release to the Washtub to matchmake or to get publicity for Fresh Grounds?”
She lifted her shoulder. “Why not both?” She reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek, then sauntered away, leaving Pax’s attention to return, way too easily, to the door.
Shea had lowered the camera; it was hanging off her bare shoulder by a long strap. The black dress she was wearing just made her hair look more golden and her skin creamier. And even from across the room, he could see the expression on her face directed his way, as if she’d tasted something sour.
Because she’d been tasked with another story like this, or because he was there?
“Yo.” Erik walked up and shoved a squat glass into Pax’s hand. “Get a grip, man. You’re drooling on yourself.”
“Like you haven’t drooled over your fiancée?”
Erik grinned. He was solo tonight for his brief appearance because Rory had stayed home with her little boy who had a cold. “Difference is,” the other man pointed out, “I’m getting Rory to the altar. Where have you gotten Shea?”
Pax hadn’t admitted even to his partner and best friend what had happened between him and Shea during the ice storm.
“Look sharp,” Erik murmured. “She’s heading this way.”
As if Pax didn’t know.
He watched her walk toward them. The gown she was wearing was blessedly simple in comparison to some of the overdone getups that night, but it was still sexy as hell, subtly molding her figure. Her hair streamed down her back, held away from her face by a narrow black band. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry; her only accessory was the small notepad she was carrying in addition to the camera.
He lifted the drink Erik had given him and drank down half of it. Probably a good thing that it was only water and not alcohol. Judging by the look on Shea’s face, he was going to need all of his wits about him.
“Mr. Sullivan,” she greeted Erik first. “Congratulations. I heard you’re getting married very soon.”
He nodded. “Next week. And I’ve told you before. It’s Erik.”
“Will I be lucky enough to get a photo of you and your fiancée this evening?”
“Not this time. Rory’s home with our son, Tyler.”
Pax heard the pride in his partner’s voice. Tyler wasn’t Erik’s by blood, but that didn’t stop him from loving the kid with everything he had.
“A son.” Shea’s gaze flicked to Pax so briefly he almost missed it. Her smile looked a little stiff. “How old is he?”
“Five.”
“And will he be going into the yacht-building business some day?”
Erik laughed. “That’ll be up to him.” He clapped Pax on the shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse me for now. I need to talk with someone.”
Shea’s eyes followed Erik as he walked away. “He seems different,” she murmured.
“He’s getting married soon. He’s happy.”
She finally looked up at him. Her long lashes were darker than usual, but it was the only hint of cosmetics that he could see. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is.” He shifted, touching her elbow to guide her out of the way of a waiter bearing a tray loaded with cocktails. He snagged a slender flute of champagne. “With Rory and Tyler in his life, Erik’s finally found what he’s always wanted.” Even though his partner had shunned anything approaching romance since a bitter divorce, he now couldn’t wait until the day he and Rory exchanged their vows. He handed Shea the glass and their fingers brushed.
Those lashes of hers quickly lowered, shielding her strikingly blue eyes. She started to lift the glass to her lips, but stopped and looked back up at him. “With him being married soon, will that put a greater load on your shoulders at Merrick & Sullivan?”
“Is that an official question, or are you personally curious?”
She pursed her soft, pink lips. He figured if she had any clue how he wanted to kiss her every time she did that, she’d want to drag a bag over her head.
“Both, I guess,” she finally allowed, and he wondered who was more surprised by the admission.
“Our partnership is like any good partnership,” he said. “Nothing’s exactly fifty-fifty all the time. It ebbs and flows on each side.”
Amusement suddenly glinted in her eyes. “That’s not quite a direct answer.”
“Sometimes Erik takes more of a load and sometimes I do. It always works out because we trust each other and we’re equally committed to our business.”
“You’ve been partners for a long time now.”
“Twenty years.” He smiled slightly. “Some relationships do last.”
The glint went out as abruptly as a candle flame doused with water. “So you’ve claimed.” She set the untouched glass on the table next to them, lifted her notepad and slid a pen right out of the top of her dress.
He couldn’t help but grin. “That’s better than a magician pulling roses from his sleeve. Anything else interesting down there?” From his height, he had a stellar view of the top curves of her breasts contained within the square-cut dress. His memory all too easily filled in the details of blush-colored nipples that tasted sweeter than summer strawberries.
Her cheeks had turned pink and she grimaced. “I forgot to borrow an appropriate purse along with the rest of this getup.”
He dragged his mind out of their memories with an effort. “You borrowed the dress?”
She looked like she regretted the admission. “From my mother.” She clicked her pen once. “What was it about Fresh Grounds that inspired you and your partner to sponsor the auction here tonight?”
“That dress belongs to your mother?” It was a helluva dress on Shea. But he couldn’t imagine someone old enough to be her mother wearing it.
“Yes.” She clicked her pen again. “The sponsorship?”
“How many times have I told you that all work and no play is no fun at all?”
She just looked at him.
He relented. “Fresh Grounds does good work.” The gig might have been Beatrice’s first since coming back to town, but he and Erik wouldn’t have footed the bill for the event if the cause behind it hadn’t had significant merit. “Regardless of whose dress it is, you look beautiful.”
Her jaw looked tighter than ever. She clicked her pen again and looked pointedly at Beatrice, who was standing a few tables away having an animated discussion with one of the guests. “Shouldn’t you be saving comments like that for your date if you expect to get anywhere with her? She’s the one who is beautiful.”
His dark-haired sister was wearing red and did look beautiful. But what interested him a whole lot more was the look in Shea’s eyes.
She was jealous.
He