Craving You

ke the fur from him, as well as his overcoat and scarf.

The photographers moved in and snapped dozens of photos of L.L.’s dress from every angle.

“Wonderful,” Shanna said. “That dress will leave jaws dropping when we run the pictures this weekend. Thanks so much to both of you.” She gave Tague another smile. L.L. surmised the other woman had a crush on Tague—and couldn’t blame her for it. Shanna said to L.L., “It really is a sensational gown. You’re stunning in it.”

“Thank you.”

Tague placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her to the Empire Room.

Despite the fact that she did, indeed, know a number of attorneys at the firm, that she was aware of, no one other than Chip knew she was Tague’s date for the evening. So apprehension had her stomach twisting into a pretzel and her heart beating a bit too fast.

“Relax, baby,” he murmured.

Apparently, her body had gone rigid.

“I feel like shark bait,” she confessed.

“I told you I’d take care of it—and you. I don’t hide things, Loralai. I keep everything out in the open.” His dark-blue eyes turned nearly black as he added, “Which reminds me, I get so distracted by you that I keep forgetting the discussion we need to have about—”

“Tague.” A silver-haired man with a well-coiffed blond on his arm greeted them as they moved through the entrance into the stylishly gold- and blue-decorated Empire Room. The chandeliers glowed with warm light, casting glittery rays. A hundred or so people filled the space, sipping champagne and enjoying the passed hors d’oeuvres and appetizer stations.

“Malcom, Grace. So good to see you.” Tague shook the older gentleman’s hand and kissed the blond on the cheek. “I hope Katie’s doing well after giving you a third grandchild.”

“She’s fully recovered from the C-section, but not getting a lot of sleep with this one,” Malcom said. “Grace and I warned her that she got off easy with the first two. They slept through the night without fail. Now she’s hit pretty hard with reality.” He laughed. “But so happy.”

“I’m sure,” Tague said. Then added, “I’d like to introduce you to Loralai Branson. Loralai, please meet Malcolm and Grace Hoffman. Malcom’s great-grandfather was the first partner to come onboard when the firm was established over eighty years ago.”

“It’s a pleasure,” L.L. said.

“That gown is beautiful,” Grace told her. “If I still had a figure like that…” She sighed wistfully.

“You’re gorgeous,” L.L. assured her. And meant it.

“Well.” Grace beamed up at her husband. “Don’t I keep telling you that, darling?”

He laughed again. “No. I keep telling you that, darling.”

L.L. found them absolutely charming, and envied how loving they were, how unencumbered by drama and dark clouds hovering too close to the horizon.

They all chatted some more, then the Hoffmans continued to greet the others. Tague snagged a glass of champagne from a silver tray held by a server. He handed it to L.L. and she sipped.

“Very nice.” She nodded with approval. And felt a flicker of excitement along her clit over the tasty bubbly and the pearls. More so over Tague, in general. She gazed up at him and said, “This is all very lovely. Your event planners go all out.” There were bouquets of white roses everywhere, shimmery gold accents, a dance floor laid out, and the food was to die for as L.L. sampled practically everything that came her way.

They wound through the crowd, Tague making sure she knew everyone.

All of the conversations were pleasant and it was quite clear to L.L. that Tague was revered by his colleagues. They told a few stories of him pulling crash-and-burn cases from the flames, and Tague congenially relayed his side, a hint of pride showing through, sure, but he gave credit to his associates where due. Traits L.L. admired. She liked the fact that he was strong, confident and successful. But he also had a clear appreciation for his coworkers.

As they moved deeper into the throng, they came upon Chip and Helena. She looked striking in a liquid gold dress and L.L. gushed over her.

“So your color,” she said. “You’re breathtaking.”

Helena gave her a careful hug while the men engaged in conversation. “Same to you,” she said. “And it’s so good to see a familiar face. This is a little overwhelming.” Her delicate Swedish accent buffered the apparent anxiety she suffered.

L.L. told her, “Be glad that you’re not meeting Chip’s parents this evening—and on their territory.”

“Oh, gads. I forgot. Tague is Harper Mason’s son.”

“Indeed.”