“It’s nice to meet you,” Nicole said, her voice sweet, covering the obvious hurt Sam knew he’d inflicted. “That’s wonderful of your parents. It’s a very worthy cause. In fact, that’s how Macy persuaded me to come tonight.” She paused and glanced around. “Speaking of Macy, I need to go find her.”
“Nicole—” Erin called her name, obviously sensing something was wrong.
Nicole had already walked away, but not before Sam caught the wounded look in her eyes, and he muttered a curse.
His sister glanced at him, clearly confused.
Sam didn’t have time for Erin’s curiosity or Margie’s arm still entwined with his. With every step Nicole took away from him, Sam felt opportunity and something more slipping away.
“I need to see to something,” he said, tipping his head in the direction of where Nicole had gone, shooting his sister a pleading look.
Erin narrowed her eyes, suspicion in her expression.
“Honey? I would love a drink,” Margie said, oblivious to anyone other than herself, as she’d been since he’d picked her up.
Honey?
Erin choked over a laugh.
“A white wine spritzer,” she continued. “No, make that a vodka with a splash of cranberry juice. No, a mimosa.”
Just as on the car ride over, Margie talked to fill up space. Earlier she’d discussed her dress, her shoes, and her shopping, leaving Sam unable to get a word in edgewise. Sam thought she talked just to hear her own voice. She didn’t need much in the way of conversation, only an escort on her arm and an ear for her long-winded stories, which was fine with him. Her parents must have catered to each and every whim she’d ever had for her to be so self-absorbed.
“Sam, why don’t you go get us all drinks,” Erin said.
“I’ll go with you—” Margie immediately said.
“No, Margie. The line looks long. Stay here and keep me company. I’m home with a baby, and I really could use adult conversation,” his sister lied smoothly.
Sam shot her a look filled with gratitude. He didn’t miss the mouthed You owe me one. He did and figured babysitting and diaper changing was in his future. Well worth it, he thought, as he took off after Nicole.
By now, the bar area as well as the ballroom had filled up and he focused on searching for a deep blue dress or glossy, long dark hair. He’d noticed her immediately when he’d walked into the room: her lush curves accentuated by the gown, her beautiful smile a draw, at least for him. He found her now, disappearing out the door into the area where the restrooms must be.
He caught up with her in the nearly empty hall. Just a few women were walking out of the ladies’ room. Sam waited until they were alone and stepped up behind her.
“It’s not what you think.”
She flinched and turned, clearly startled, at the sound of his voice. “It doesn’t matter what it is. You don’t owe me an explanation.” She pivoted toward the restroom.
“Don’t. Give me a minute. Please.” He heard the plea in his voice.
With a sigh, she stepped away from the door and led them to a quiet corner of the lobby. With people milling around, they weren’t alone, but at least she was with him. And she was listening.
“Margie’s parents are huge donors. Cara’s in charge of selling tickets for the station, and she begged me to take Margie. Hell, she basically insinuated that the Stinsons would pull out if I didn’t. You weren’t living here yet when I agreed, and even then, I did it under duress.”
Nicole had folded her arms across her chest in a protective manner earlier. She didn’t uncross them now.
His gut churned and acid flowed in his chest.
“Like I said, you don’t owe me an explanation.” Her lips twitched a little. “But . . .” She drew out the word. “I’m glad you rushed over here to give me one.”
He released the breath he’d damned well been aware he was holding. “I wanted to tell you at Cuppa Café when you asked me about tonight.”
“But you got called away.”
He nodded. “And I don’t have your phone number.” He pulled out his cell and held it out to her, determined to rectify that right now.
She accepted the phone and programmed her information into it before handing it back. “Sam . . .”