Craving You

Tague didn’t even flinch. He told his parents, “I informed my assistant on Monday morning that Miss Branson would be joining me. I’m sure the seating arrangements have been appropriately handled.”

His parents exchanged a look. And it suddenly felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Though Tague didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he was just used to the razor-vibe these two people so easily incited.

He added, “Brianna will be very happy to sit with another junior partner, I’m sure. Now, if you’ll both excuse us…” He flashed L.L. a grin and said, “We need a fresh glass of champagne.”

They moved away.

L.L. waited until they were out of earshot to tell him, “Your mother might have overheard some of my conversation with Helena. We were talking about Chip and—”

“Loralai,” he interjected. “Chip made the choice to bring Helena. Don’t carry every burden on those beautiful shoulders, baby.” He lifted another crystal flute from a passing tray and handed it over. “Deep breath. Deep sip. Be calm. Enjoy.”

She gazed up at him. “How is it so easy for you to say that? You can’t honestly tell me that your parents’ perspective doesn’t impact your position within the family—and the firm.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” he admitted. “Yes, my father would like to keep me under his thumb as a matter of principle and arrogance. My mother wishes for it as well, all related to her social standing. But above all else, the success of the firm matters most. As long I’m winning top-dollar cases, they stay out of my personal affairs.”

“Hmm. Are you sure?” L.L. challenged. She took a drink, then laid two thoughts on the table. “First, who’s Brianna? And second, is money really everything to your family?”

Tague grimaced. “Not exactly simple answers to give. Brianna Carlisle is a family friend. I’ve known her since I was six. We went to the same prep school. She didn’t make it into Harvard, and went to Stanford instead. She’s very smart and very pretty. But I never actually dated her, though we were thrown together for every social engagement. Did Brianna buy into the we belong together theory because of this? Yes. Did I? No.”

“So unrequited love on her part.”

“I think it’s more of an infatuation with my last name.”

“I doubt that’s it. You’re a bit on the wonderful side.”

“Just a bit, huh?” He gave her another sexy grin.

“Okay,” she said around a sip. “Incredibly wonderful. But don’t sidetrack me. What about question number two?”

“It’s not just about money, where my parents are concerned. It’s a lot of what money—especially family money, versus new money—represents. The prestige, the status, the privilege. That’s all very important to them. So is cultivating the right reputation.”

“With the right job, the right friends, the right car, the right…woman?” She lifted a brow.

“Yes to all of the above,” he said. “But note that I specifically was telling Chip on Monday morning that neither he nor I subscribe to the arm candy theory to promote a prominent image. Then you popped up in front of me. I wasn’t instantly hooked because of how I thought you’d look by my side this evening, but rather because you immediately sparked my interest—which doesn’t happen often. But now, here I am, feeling like the fucking king of the world as practically every man in the room is craning his neck to get a better look at you. Which, now that I think about it, makes me a colossal hypocrite.”

“It doesn’t,” she insisted, her heart warming. “And I suspect they just want to see who you dared to bring to the party.”

“No.” He stared down at her and smiled confidently. “You are mesmerizing and they’re not just stealing glances your way, they’re outright ogling.”

“I find that hard to believe.” She wouldn’t have noticed even if it were true, because she couldn’t tear her eyes from her devilishly handsome escort. He pulled her closer to him, tucking her tight against his hunky body. Very territorial. She loved it.

“Trust me.” Tague planted a quick, sweet kiss on her cheek. “They’re all cursing me for being one lucky son of a bitch.”

They reached the wall of windows and stared out at the glittery snowflakes. It was practically a whiteout at this point, with very few people on the sidewalk.

“This is all so beautiful,” L.L. said. “The stunning holiday decorations. And the company truly is exceptional.” Tague was standing behind her, but their gazes held in the reflection of the enormous glass panes. She lifted her flute to him. She could feel his heat, smell his expensive scent—more intoxicating than the champagne she enjoyed.

“I’m glad you like the venue. I booked us a suite here for the night.”

“Tague. This evening is costing you a small fortune.”

His hands lightly gripped her hips. He whispered in her ear, “A drop in the bucket that hardly compares to the memory I’ll keep of you in this dress. Of you glowing radiantly. Of you almost naked on top of me earlier, coming…how many times, was it?”

26

She flushed. “Three times. All blissfully, I might add.”