He uttered a sigh, as if that was a relief—that she didn’t know him. But then he said, “Let’s change that. Let’s get to know each other.” He entwined their fingers and tugged her along with him as he headed out of the ballroom.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He stopped near the bank of elevators and pressed the up button. While he didn’t live in the hotel, he had a suite reserved on the twenty-first floor. Was this why? Because he could pick up women as easily as he’d picked up her?
He turned back to her. “I want to see you under the stars,” he said. “There’s a bar on the roof, and a band. A better one than the conference has. I suspect that’s where everyone has gone.”
So he hadn’t just assumed she’d go to his room. That was good. But she had to acknowledge a flash of disappointment. She wouldn’t have been upset at being invited to see his suite. The night wasn’t over yet. She’d just left the ball, and she didn’t mind since she was leaving with the prince. The elevator doors swooshed open to a full car of rowdy-sounding guests. They must have been abandoning the quieter bar in the lobby for the rooftop lounge.
She stepped back, willing to wait for the next elevator. But Blake pulled her inside with him. As crowded as it was, they had to stand very close to each other—so close that they touched everywhere. Arm, hip, thigh...
A guest jostled Juliette, and her heel twisted, nearly twisting her ankle, as well, but Blake’s arm slid around her waist, pulling her more tightly against him. Even after the doors opened and they exited onto the roof, Blake kept his arm around her.
He led her onto the dance floor and pulled her closer yet as he held her in his arms. They danced slowly—slower even than the beat of the music. It was as if Blake, too, wanted to savor every minute of the evening like Juliette did.
He stared at her so intently that she lifted a hand to her face and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Had her makeup run down her face? She usually didn’t wear this much, but her friend had applied it heavily, to make Juliette look older—like the accomplished businesswoman her fairy godmother had been.
Blake lifted her hand from her face and replaced it with his, sliding his thumb along her jaw. “You are so beautiful—” he uttered a wistful sigh “—more beautiful than the stars themselves...”
She smiled. Her prince was definitely charming. Not that he was hers...except maybe for this night. A night she intended to make the most of—while it lasted.
They danced until the band stopped for a break. Then Blake, his arm still around her, began to steer her toward the rooftop bar.
But Juliette saw who the bartender was, a young man she’d turned down for a date several times. If he recognized her and—given how he always stared at her—he probably would, she knew he would blow her cover and destroy her evening. So she dug in her heels and propelled them to a stop.
“Don’t you want a drink after all that dancing?” Blake asked.
“Uh, yes...” Despite the cool autumn air blowing around the roof top, she was hot and flushed, but that was more from his closeness than from the dancing. “But not here...”
Blake glanced down at her. “Then where?”
She knew what he would think, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want her ball to end at midnight. She was greedier than Cinderella. She wanted longer than a few hours and more than a few dances. She wanted Blake. “Your room.”
He stared into her eyes, and as he did, his pupils dilated, swallowing the green. Then, his arm around her, he led her back to the elevators. But a line had already formed for them. So he pushed open the door to the stairs. “It’s just one flight down,” he assured her.
But when her heel slipped on one of the steps, he swung her up in his arms. “We can’t have you breaking an ankle,” he murmured.
“I can take off the shoes,” she offered. She didn’t want to break an ankle, either, because when this evening was over, she would have to go back to her real life and her two jobs and mountain of bills.
“I have you,” he assured her.
A wistful sigh slipped through her lips. She wished he had her, but he didn’t even know her. If he did, he wouldn’t be carrying her; he would be asking her for extra towels. But she wasn’t going to worry about that now. She was just going to enjoy being treated like a princess. So she linked her arms around his neck and snuggled against him, brushing her lips over his throat.
His pulse leaped beneath her mouth, and he tensed. “Now I might slip,” he murmured. But he was already on the landing, pushing open the door with his shoulder. A few strides down the hall and he stopped outside a door. “You’ll need to take the key card from my pocket,” he said, and his voice sounded strange, strangled.
She smiled and slid one hand over his ass.
He nearly jumped and cleared his throat. “Not that pocket. Inside jacket pocket.”
So she moved her hand between them, pushing aside his jacket to run her fingers down his dress shirt and over the rippling muscles beneath the silk.
“You need to find that key,” he said through gritted teeth, “quickly.”
“Why?”
He showed her why—with his mouth. He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers before deepening the kiss.
Passion coursed through Juliette, and she kissed him back with all the desire she felt for him. Her hands moved through his short, spiky dark gold hair as she held his head to hers.
His arms tightened around her, and he shuddered slightly. Lifting his mouth from hers, he panted for breath and murmured, “The key card...”
She fumbled inside his jacket until she found it. When she pulled it out, the card nearly slipped from her fingers. Blake caught it and swiped it through the lock. Then he pushed open the door and carried her over the threshold.
The significance of the gesture must have sobered him a little because he set her on her feet and closed the door. And as he did, he ran his hand through the hair she’d tousled. “I—I got carried away,” he murmured, his face flushed.
“Uh, technically I was the one who got carried away,” she said. “Or carried down...the stairs.”
His sexy mouth curved into a grin. But the humor didn’t entirely reach his green eyes; he still looked troubled. Maybe he’d changed his mind about bringing her to his room. He left her standing by the door as he headed to the bar on the other side of the large suite.
“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I know you carrying me over the threshold doesn’t make me your bride.”
He shuddered at the thought.
She’d been so hot earlier—in his arms, with his mouth on hers. But now she was chilled.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that I want nothing to do with marriage. My dad has had more than his share of marriages and I don’t think any of them made him happy.” His mouth pulled down into a frown now. “Actually I don’t think anything makes him happy...except maybe his company and his money...”
“I’m sure that you do,” she said. “That he loves you very much...” He had to be so proud of Blake; she’d heard that instead of going to work for Colton Energy with his oldest sister, Blake had launched his own successful start-up company straight out of business school.
He snorted. “You don’t know my father,” he said. “He doesn’t love anyone but himself.”
She’d heard that Fenwick Colton was one selfish son of a bitch. But how could he not love his own child?
She’d been feeling sorry for herself until now—until realizing that even though