The excuse was hokey, but I could hear the mumbles of the people around us, who were wondering why I was standing there, why I hadn't yet accepted his hand.
I had the strangest sense of deja vu.
On the other hand, I was at home, which meant a meeting with my father was imminent.
My stomach was beginning to knot. I needed something to keep my mind off of it, and dancing with a ridiculously handsome, if often infuriating, Master vampire would probably do the trick.
"You owe me," I muttered, but took his hand, just as the quintet began to play "I Could Have Danced All Night."
I slid a glance to the members of the quintet, who grinned like they'd made their very first vampire joke. And maybe they had.
"Thank you," I mouthed to them, and they nodded back at me in unison.
"Your father hired comedians," Ethan commented, as he led me to a spot in the middle of the empty floor. He stopped and turned, and I placed my free hand on his shoulder.
His free hand, the one that wasn't clutching mine, went to the back of my waist. He put pressure there, pulling me closer - not quite, but almost, against the line of his body. His body around mine, it was hard to avoid the scent of his cologne - clean, crisp, irritat ingly delicious.
I swallowed. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. On the other hand, best thing to do was keep the mood light. "He has to pay people who have a sense of humor. Since he's lacking one," I added, when Ethan didn't laugh.
"I understood the joke, Merit," he quietly said, sparkling emerald eyes on me as we began to sway. "I didn't find it funny."
"Yes, well, your sense of humor leaves something to be desired."
Ethan spun me out and away, then pulled me back again. Stuck-up or not, I had to give him props - the boy could move.
"My sense of humor is perfectly well developed," he informed me when our bodies aligned again. "I merely have high standards."
"And yet you deign to dance with me."
"I'm dancing in a stately home with the owner's daughter, who happens to be a powerful vampire." Ethan looked down at me, brow cocked. "A man could do worse."
"A man could do worse," I agreed. "But could a vampire?"
"If I find one, I'll ask him."
The response was corny enough that I laughed aloud, full and heartily, and had the odd, heart-clenching pleasure of watching him smile back, watching his green eyes shine with the delight of it.
No, I told myself, even as we danced, even as he smiled down at me, even as his hand at my waist, the warm weight of it, felt natural. I looked away, saw that the people around us watched us dance with obvious curiosity. But there was something else in their expressions - a kind of sweetness, like they were watching a couple's first wedding waltz.
I realized how it must look. Ethan, blond and handsome in his tuxedo, me in my black silk ball gown, two vampires - one of whom was the daughter of the host, a girl who'd disappeared from society only to reemerge with this handsome man on her arm -
locked together, smiling as they shared a dance, the first couple to take the floor. If we'd actually been dating and had wanted to announce our relationship, we couldn't have staged it better.
My smile fell away. What had felt like a novelty - dancing with a vampire in my father's house - began to feel like a ridiculous theatrical production.
He must have seen the change in my expression; when I looked back at him, his smile had melted.
"We shouldn't be doing this."
"Why," he asked, "should we not be dancing?"
"It's not real."
"It could be."
I snapped my gaze up to meet his. There was desire in his eyes, and while I wasn't na?ve enough to deny the chemistry between us, our relationship was complicated enough between Sentinel and Master. Dating wasn't going to make things easier.
"You think too much," Ethan quietly said, approbation in his voice.
I looked away at the couples finally beginning to join us on the dance floor. "You train me to think, Ethan. To always think, strategize, plan. To evaluate the consequences of my actions." I shook my head. "For what you're suggesting - no. There would be too many consequences."
Silence.
"Touche," he finally whispered.
I nodded almost imperceptibly, and took the point.
Chapter Sixteen
AN OFFER THEY CAN'T REFUSE
We'd eaten, danced, and sipped champagne for nearly an hour, and still saw no sign of my father or the Breckenridges. It was hard to play Nancy Drew without evidence.
When I caught the interested rise of Ethan's brows, I looked automatically in the direction of his gaze, expecting to see Joshua Merit nearby.
But instead of my father, in the midst of a circle of laughing men, stood the mayor.
At thirty-six, Seth Tate was in the beginning of his second term. He'd named himself a reformer, but hadn't been able to produce the economic renaissance he'd promised when campaigning against the Potter political machine that had ruled Chicago before his election. He'd also given my grandfather his position as Ombud, thereby officially opening the city's administration and enforcement wings to Chicago's sups.
Tate was tall and surprisingly fit for a man who evaluated policy all day. He was also almost ridiculously handsome. He had the face of a rebellious angel - black hair, crystal blue eyes, perfect mouth - and a patented bad-boy brood that no doubt made him the fantasy of more than one woman in the Windy City. He'd been named "America's Sexiest Politician," his face splashed on the covers of more than one newsmagazine.
Despite the press, Tate was still single, but it was rumored he'd installed mistresses in a sprinkling of Chicagoland neighborhoods. None, as far as I was aware, were vampires.
Although, having seen the voluptuous nymphs that ruled the segments of the Chicago River, it wouldn't have surprised me if he'd slipped one of them into his rotation.
I looked back at Ethan, his gaze on Tate, and saw a strange look of covetousness on his face. That's when the gears clicked into place.
I knew Ethan wanted access to my father and those of his ilk. Our attempt to keep the raves out of the press was a handy means toward building that connection. But the raves and the story aside, Ethan wanted access to Tate. Access that Tate hadn't, at least until now, been willing to provide.
"You should say hello to our young mayor," Ethan said.
"I've already said hello," I said. I'd met Tate twice before. That had been plenty.
"Yes," Ethan said. "I know that."
Slowly, I slid him a glance, my eyebrows raised. "You know that?"