Losing Control

Chapter Eight

 
He'd told Taryn 7:00 p.m. Black tie. When she'd insisted she find her own way, given the debacle that evening at Marco's when she'd wanted to escape but couldn't, he guessed he understood.
But as seven had wound on to half past, the shine on his understanding had begun to tarnish. At quarter to eight, he was debating whether to call to check up, stride into the party alone or forget about this reunion deal altogether. He had work he could be doing. Going over that football proposal, for one. Instead he was standing here, waiting, waiting. He must look like an overdressed idiot. He knew he felt like one.
Then a silver service cab swerved up. She got out. And Cole's chest expanded on a deep breath.
As usual, Taryn Quinn was all grace. Her evening gown - a silver sequined sheath - fit her body like a high-fashion glove. The neckline was a modest scoop, but as she turned to set her stilettos correctly on the pavement, he saw that the back was cut low enough to hover on the edge of X-rated. She spotted him standing alone at the entrance of the inner-city five-star establishment and sent a little wave. He waved back.
Her hair always looked great...a long bouncy blond river. But tonight, beneath the city lights, it surrounded her face like a luxurious halo. And those lips, my God... Even from a distance, they looked tasty.
Cole met her at the bottom of the steps.
"Nice tux," she said.
"What? This old thing?"
She laughed and something new lifted up inside of him. "You said it was black tie. I took a chance and believed you."
"That's a stunning gown."
"Thank you."
"You look beautiful." Incredible.
Her brow pinched as if she wondered if he were only teasing, before her easy smile shone again. "Sorry I kept you waiting. The cab took forever."
He threaded his arm through hers. "Absolutely no need to apologize."
Inside the ballroom, soft music played while guests churned around, nibbling salmon and caviar canapes while reminiscing. Both he and Taryn accepted chilled flutes from a passing waiter. As she sipped, Cole noticed the flute hovered longer than necessary, covering her smile. Grinning, too, he let his gaze sweep over the glittering room.
"What's funny?"
"It's just since you mentioned the navy, I had visions of scores of officers dressed up in crisp white suits and matching gloves."
"You're partial to a man in uniform?"
Her eyes glistened beneath the lights. "Why? Do you have one hanging at the back of your wardrobe?"
"Hate to admit it but, as a cadet, I looked more like Popeye in my sailor's suit."
Her head went back and her hair bounced around her shoulders as she laughed. "Popeye? Well, at least you're honest. Was there a Brutus in your unit of cadets?"
"Sure. Big, burly, shaving daily by age ten. This guy's better looking than his cartoon counterpart, though."
Her gaze veered to the left. "Would that be him?"
Angling around, he spotted Brandon winding through the crowd. Cole grinned. "Guess the shoulders gave it away."
Brandon stopped before them, tipping his head at Taryn as he introduced himself. "And you must be the mysterious Taryn Quinn."
"Mysterious?" She smiled. "Maybe more your everyday working-class girl."
Brandon's expression said plainly not. And he was right. Taryn was a beauty wearing office garb. But in this glittering silver number, she could put a supermodel out of a job. Her aura was magnetic, her laugh, infectious. He couldn't remember feeling this proud standing beside a date in his life. Those old feelings for Meredith McReedy were left for dead in the shade.
Brandon must have been thinking the same. He was searching the room. When he beckoned someone over, Cole recognized the woman. Barely.
Meredith McReedy bounced straight up, then, on her toes, planted a smacking kiss on Cole's chin. Her lips were so rouged, he just knew she'd left a big red dot.
"Cole, we missed you at the last reunion." Meredith smiled at Taryn, an honest expression, which was nice given the difference in their appearance. While Taryn came off statuesque, poised and glamorous, Cole wasn't certain what had happened to his erstwhile love. Meredith filled them in.
"I'm married now. Three children under four. We're the happiest little family." Meredith spoke directly to Taryn. "You must be Cole's wife."
"Not wife," Cole cut in.
Meredith gave his lapel a playful slap. "You can't hide from responsibility forever."
Cole coughed. Him hiding from responsibility. That was a new one.
With a "We'll catch up later," Meredith disappeared into the tide.
Grinning, Brandon raised his beer. "Well, she looks happy."
Cole narrowed his eyes at his friend. If Brandon was thinking about blabbing, Taryn didn't need to know the background.
"Are you in the forces?" Taryn asked Brandon as the music changed and more couples headed for the dance floor.
"I own a security firm. I do some private investigating from time to time."
"Must be exciting."
"It can be," Brandon said, "when you're on to something with substance."
Her brow wrinkled. "What do you mean?"
"Sometimes a client gets it into his head to chase dead ends."
"No stone left unturned," Cole reasoned, then saw Taryn looking between the two, wondering. He changed the subject. She didn't need to know about Guthrie's recent woes, either.
He asked Brandon, "So, where's your date?"
"You know how I said we have a love/hate relationship? Right now, she's not feeling the love. In fact, I think it's fair to say the curtain has dropped on that particular union."
Taryn's shoulders fell. "I'm sorry to hear that."
Gaze on the filling dance floor, Brandon sipped his beer, swallowed. Exhaled. "Yeah, well, she's missing out. Marissa loves to dance."
"You do, too?" Taryn asked.
"With the right girl," Brandon said.
"You never know." Taryn's smile was encouraging. "Maybe you'll find someone nice to dance with tonight."
Brandon cocked his head then shifted his focus to Cole, arching a brow as if asking permission.
Setting both his and Taryn's flutes on a passing waiter's tray, Cole gave Brandon a "she's mine" look and led Taryn away for a dance of their own.
When they reached the floor, Cole half expected Taryn to kick up a fuss, maybe tell him that coming here was one thing, but dancing cheek to cheek was definitely another. Instead, in her glittering gown, which threw occasional sparks off beneath a slow spinning light, she stood calmly before him. Gaze fixed on his, she waited for his arm to wind around and tug her close.
He was happy to oblige.
Her dress rustled as his hand grazed over her waist then slid down until his palm rested on the bare small of her back. When he pressed enough to let her know she should come closer, she stepped into his space. He took her slim warm hand in his and her head tilted back as she drew in a long breath. Then her hand found his shoulder and, with other couples weaving around, they began to move.
"I like your friend," she said as her fingers on his shoulder scrunched a little then splayed.
"He's one of a kind."
"Good at his work, I assume."
"The best."
"A private investigator."
"That's right."
She looked down then back into his eyes. "Cole, you don't have him investigating me, do you?"
"No." He rotated her around. "I've decided I don't need to rattle your skeletons."
A smile touched her eyes but then she blinked. "He is working for you, though."
He exhaled. "There's been a couple of incidents."
"Concerning you?"
"My father."
Her expression fell and dancing stopped. "Is Guthrie in trouble?"
Peering down into those beautiful concerned eyes, Cole set his jaw. Why the media hadn't got ahold of the story was beyond him, but he didn't expect that to last. Someone somewhere only needed to slip a scrap of information and, next thing, this attempted-murder business would be all over the news. He'd already decided that he wouldn't share any of this with Taryn. Hell, he rarely shared anything personal with anyone.
But, for whatever reason, he wanted to tonight.
Cole retold the story surrounding the attempts on Guthrie's life, how Jeremy Judge had practically sewn up the case in a twenty-four-hour window and, finally, how he wasn't satisfied this was over.
Taryn shook her head in disbelief. "No wonder you're irritable."
Suppressing a grin, he moved her around in a tight circle. "I'm always irritable."
"I'm serious. I'd be frantic if Vi's life was in danger."
"Vi?"
"My aunt. She brought me up after..."
Her eyes glistened before her gaze skirted away. Obviously too personal. Cole got that.
He was about to say, "You don't have to talk about it," when she found his gaze again and explained.
"I didn't know either of my parents. I was too young to have any memories of that time, but I still wish things had been different. Normal."
The best he could offer was a supportive smile. She'd said so much with so few words. Now he couldn't find a one.
"I grew up with my aunt," Taryn went on. "Vi's the best there is. She's crazy about cats. She was over today when you phoned. She likes to drop in, you know, but she doesn't smother me like I've heard some parents do." Her brow pinched and he felt her pull back an inch. "I'm boring you."
His gaze brushed her cheek, her lips. "I don't think that's possible."
Beneath the soft lights it was difficult to say, but he thought she might have blushed. Then he felt her draw away a little again. Put that wall back up between them.
"Do you miss the sea?" she asked, looking around at the other grown cadets.
"I'd mentioned there was a time I wanted to serve on a ship. I also thought I might buy a boat-building company and make my own. I imagined doing test runs all day long, standing bold and brave behind the wheel."
He was grinning, mocking himself, but Taryn's face was set.
"Why didn't you?"
He didn't have to think. "Obligation. Duty."
"To your family and Hunter Enterprises."
He nodded.
"So you enjoy what you do there?" she asked.
Searching her eyes, he gave a meaning-filled smile. "Some days are better than others."
"And some days you get lumbered with problems you could do without."
She was talking about her show, but her open look said she wasn't baiting him.
"There are positives to every situation."
"I agree." She seemed to gather herself, gather the words. "I haven't officially thanked you for approving my survey yet."
No, she hadn't. But...
His gaze dropped to her lips again when he said, "It's not too late."
When her head angled, questioning and understanding at the same time, his pulse kicked, flames raced through his blood and impulse won out. His head lowered over hers.
Beneath his palm, he felt her quiver. Over the music's percussion beat, he heard her sigh. His lips parted slightly as her face tilted more, slanting at the perfect angle to greet him.
Then, as if someone had stuck her with a pin, her eyes rounded and, unraveling herself, she stepped well away.
"I'm not..." She brushed back a tumble of hair fallen over one eye then met his gaze again. "I wasn't expecting that."
"I should apologize." He chanced a smile. "But I'm not sorry."
In fact, truth be told, he wanted to bring her close and finish what he'd started.
Cole felt a tap on his shoulder and, realizing where he was - in a highly public setting - looked back. A man Cole remembered from his cadet days was straightening his bow tie, speaking to him but looking at Taryn.
"I wondered if I could beg a dance from the most beautiful woman in the room."
Without apology, Cole ground out, "Not now," then escorted her off the floor.
Keeping control was hard enough when they were in a room full of people. God help him when they were away on that survey. The way she'd almost surrendered just now, God help them both.