Alana adjusted the bodice of her evening gown. The woman co-chairing the Boys and Girls Club fundraiser didn’t get that a party in the country was much better suited to less formal attire. It was the country, Alana had pointed out. But the chairwoman had insisted on black tie. Probably because she’d had a dress made especially for the occasion and was determined to debut it at the party. That was an excuse Alana could relate to.
Still, she was about to welcome a couple hundred stiletto-heeled women in ball gowns and men in tuxes, and the workers laying the temporary flooring between the ranch buildings and the ballroom weren’t finished yet. It wasn’t their fault; until she’d walked through the venue with Parker and the party planner the day before, she hadn’t realized that they’d have to create safe, raised and carpeted paths. At least the patios between the lizard-topped pavilion, the ballroom and the dining tent were already suitable, even for the highest of heels.
At the last minute she’d offered to greet guests in her foyer and give the crews a bit more time to finish up the pathways. People always wanted to access private spaces; perhaps it’d give the party that much more cachet. Staffers could then lead the guests along the finished path to the frantoio and ballroom and afterwards settle them into the lavishly decorated dining tent.
Suddenly, Capture the Flag and campfire nights seemed heavenly and way too far in the past. The next time Alana agreed to host a party of this magnitude, if there ever was a next time, it was going to be hay bales and carriage rides.
Her phone vibrated. She tugged at her bodice again before she picked the phone up from the side table in the foyer.
She had to read Parker’s text twice before the meaning sank in. He was stuck in traffic on the Golden Gate Bridge. Her cohost wouldn’t arrive for another hour.
An hour! Guests would be arriving any minute. Merde! She kicked at the bough of flowers trailing down from the stairway banister. Her heel caught in the wooden rung of the stair and snapped off.
Double merde!
She leaned down and unstrapped her shoes and looked up to see Matt walking toward her, brows raised.
“Trouble in paradise?” He offered her a hand up.
She hadn’t expected him to be among the first arrivals. In fact, in spite of his email the day before, she hadn’t been sure he’d come at all. She’d nearly convinced herself she didn’t care.
She plastered on her best public smile and took his offered hand.
As soon as his fingers tightened around hers, the familiar charge zipped through her and she wanted to melt into the warmth pulsing between their hands. “It’s fine.” It was all she could do to swallow down the lump of emotion rising in her throat and stand. “I’m fine.”
“I know what fine looks like.”
Perceptive man.
“Okay, so not fine means hundreds of guests will be arriving any minute. My cousin Parker, who was going to help me greet those guests, he’s stuck in traffic on the bridge.” She held up her Louboutin sandal, the heel dangling off to the side like a severed body part. “I’ve agreed to greet them here in my foyer, I’ve broken my shoe and—”
“I’ll greet them,” he said. “You run upstairs and change shoes.”
She must’ve looked flabbergasted—she certainly felt flabbergasted—because he shifted his weight and stepped back, crossing his arms and daring her to tell him no.
“I do know how to greet guests.”
She paused. She really didn’t have much choice. Not unless she wanted to welcome guests in her bare feet.
“Thank you. I’ll be just a minute,” she said as she turned to head up the stairs.
She transferred her sandals to her right hand and placed her left hand on the bannister. Right then, she didn’t trust her balance. Not with the shiver of nerves that having Matt close sent rushing through her. And his offer of help? She never would have guessed how great it would feel. She recognized that he was the kind of man who wouldn’t let her down.
“Alana?”
She turned back to him.
A slow easy smile crawled across his face and lit his eyes.
“Take your time.” He waved her up the stairs. “I promise not to scare anybody off. At least not for the first ten minutes.”
Maybe she was losing her mind. She was leaving a guy that Alex had said was one step from antisocial to greet guests, and she felt good about it. But maybe the good feeling coursing through her had nothing to do with parties and guests and everything to do with the way her body lit up any time he was around.
By the time she changed shoes and ran back downstairs, a line of people stood in the foyer and Matt was doing a terrific job of making them feel welcome.
He grinned at her, never pausing in his duties, and she felt ridiculous for doubting him. Of course he knew how to deal with the public—he had to deal with fans. Plus he’d grown up in nearly the same social circles she had. East coast, west coast—the difference hardly mattered.
Alex was usually right about people, usually read them with a practiced eye, but evidently he hadn’t seen this side of Matt.
“Maybe I should retire and leave you to it,” she said as she joined him.
The tux he wore accentuated the broad stretch of his shoulders, and the white collar of the starched shirt against his tanned skin made his chiseled jaw and strong features look even more handsome in the glow of the foyer chandelier. How many women did he have in his life? How many women looked at those shoulders and wanted to feel what it would be like to be enclosed in his arms?
“If you do, I’ll never forgive you,” he whispered, pulling her back from her thoughts.
For the next half hour they greeted the earliest arrivals. Alana stole glances at him as he spoke with a couple of the men who appeared relieved to be able to talk sports. How could she not have noticed Matt’s smooth manners and easy command?
The women peppered Alana with questions about the ranch, some of which she could actually answer, but mostly they wanted to talk about her dress.
She caught Matt stealing glances at her. The way he held her in his gaze gave her goose bumps. At one point he reached down and twined his fingers in hers. Just for an instant, but long enough to tell her that she wasn’t the only one feeling the energy sparking between them.
Seeing him talk with the guests, working beside him... she was shocked at how good it felt to have somebody with her, someone supporting her. He’d saved the day in a quiet way, no fanfare and no expectations of recompense. And though he was a superstar, he wasn’t trying to impress. He’d just stepped up and done what needed to be done with a generous, capable and intriguing manner. And he was unbelievably sexy. From every angle. From any angle. He was ideal material for a partner, if a woman wanted a mate.
Hand extended toward the next man in line, Alana stopped her thought. She couldn’t believe she was thinking about mates and partners. Couldn’t believe she was thinking about Matt and mates and partners.
She watched him talking with an older man about the need for scholarships for the kids and saw the skin around his eyes and jaw go tight. Though he was putting on a good show and smoothly making the guests feel welcome, she recognized the effort he expended to be social with people he didn’t know. An effort he was making for her.
“Time for a break,” she said as the last of the current group began to disperse into the crowd. She steered him out the door and toward the bar set up outside the ballroom pavilion. “Champagne?”
“I’m more of a martini man if I have a choice.”
“After saving my butt, you can have whatever you want.”
“You might regret that offer.” He looked her up and down with a sweeping glance.
She notched her hand into the crook of his arm. “We’ll see.”