“And I’m not sure how many ways I can explain this to you,” Matt quipped back, more playful than brusque. “No invitation, no entry.” He gave her a shrug. “I’m sor
ry, but if I tell my dad I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it.”
Tate had never seen this snarky side of Matt, probably because the kid was terribly respectful of authority. Tate braced for the woman’s explosion. Puck bunnies this insistent didn’t go down without a fight.
“I don’t have an invitation, because my sister called and invited me over the phone.” Her voice remained light and sweet. No attitude. No anger. In fact, she seemed almost overly solicitous and good-natured, considering she wasn’t getting her way. “I’ll let you listen to her voice mail. She’s one of the event planners—”
“And my mom is the DJ,” Matt quipped back, grinning. “I’ll let you listen to her latest voice mail too.”
The woman dropped her head back and laughed. She laughed. The sound was light and fun and infectious, and Tate found himself smiling. Felt his chest loosening, his intrigue growing.
If her sister was the event planner here, then she was also the event planner for his charity banquet in three weeks, because Tate had hired the mother-daughter team on the advice of Beckett’s bride-to-be.
“You are a-dorable,” she told Matt, amused, “but, really, my sister is expecting me.”
“Then she really should have left an invitation at the door.”
The woman heaved a sigh and paced away from Matt. At the balcony railing, she looked out over the city. Her body swayed into a lazy, comfortable stance.
For a long moment, she just stood there, and for a long moment, Tate just stared. Her dress followed every curve of her body and dipped low in the back, exposing a lot of smooth skin and the sexy curve of her spine. He couldn’t ever remember thinking of a woman’s spine as sexy. But right now, his mind was drumming up fantasies of kissing his way down that spine until it ended, then continuing on…
Which was when Tate realized miracles did happen, because his cock was tingling with the long-lost desire to rub against soft things.
She turned sideways, leaned one elbow on the railing, and looked at Matt again. “Okay, then, I guess we’re going to get to know each other really well, because I’m not going anywhere until my sister checks her phone, and with her running all over the party like a madwoman, that could take some time. I’m Olivia. What’s your name?”
That was his opening.
Tate put his glass on a side table and waited for foot traffic to clear, then walked out onto the metal platform. “Hey, Matt.”
“Hey, Mr. Donovan.”
“Matt,” Olivia said with a nod and a contemplative scan of Matt’s face. “It fits. You look like a Matthew.”
Tate stepped toward her and offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Tate.”
Her gaze turned on him, along with a warm, authentic smile. She took his hand, her hold firm. “Olivia.”
Matt cast an uncertain gaze between them. “She doesn’t have an invitation, sir.”
“So I heard.” Tate settled his gaze squarely on Olivia again, and she held it with the kind of open, no-nonsense confidence Tate had never seen in a woman before. She also added a feisty little what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it umph to her grin, and Tate couldn’t keep from smiling back.
Up close, everything about her was striking. Her blonde hair was shiny, her skin smooth and radiant, her eyes clear, sky blue. She wore light makeup and no jewelry. And she appeared as unimpressed by Tate as she’d been by Jake.
He liked that.
He released her hand. “What’s your last name, Olivia?”
She cocked her head and queried with a puzzled “Why?”
“So I can confirm your relationship to the event planner.”
“Essex,” she offered without hesitation.
She was, indeed, part of the family. He nodded and smiled at Matt. “Olivia will be my plus one tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Tate met her eyes again and extended a bent elbow for her, she looked a little stunned. “Thank you.”