LITMIR.BIZ

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ticket for this one. He owed her big-time, especially if he succeeded in convincing Eve to come to the network. In fact, a blue box from Tiffany would probably be in order.

      Which showed how important it was that CWB get this show. Nelson would probably sign the requisition without even blinking. Or reading it.

      He heard someone laugh behind a huge urn filled with stargazer lilies, and he inhaled sharply. After forty hours of recordings, he knew that sound. A strange feeling swooped through his gut, and he stepped cautiously to one side, peering around the flowers.

      And there she was, heading for the buffet with an elderly woman, a polished older man and a woman with a neck like a swan. Or a ballet dancer. His gaze dropped to the woman’s feet, which were turned out. Yep.

      He’d dated a dancer from the New York City Ballet for six weeks the previous year. He’d discovered about five weeks in that Analiese was much more beautiful onstage as a swan or a princess than she was as a girlfriend, so they’d parted amicably and he’d bought season tickets to the company’s performances. It was the music he liked best, anyway.

      Eve and her companions filled plates that weren’t much more than wafers of china, and stood by the windows visiting and eating hors d’oeuvres. Mitch took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and then stopped him.

      “Who’s that, do you know?” He nodded toward the window. “That couple talking with Eve Best.”

      The waiter glanced at them. “Don’t know who the old lady is. But that’s Roy and Anne Best with Eve there. Must be related. He was a developer before he retired. Put in that new retail complex in Decatur. Word is he’s looking to buy a share in the Thrashers.” His gaze swung to Mitch. “Too bad they didn’t make the playoffs this year. You follow hockey?”

      “Sure do.” Hockey, soccer, snowboarding. Anything but football or baseball, a preference that would probably get him hung in one or two southern states. “Thanks.”

      “Enjoy your evening, sir.”

      Roy Best moved slightly, giving Eve an unobstructed view of the window, which reflected the brightly lit room.

      Mitch realized that he was standing in that reflection at about the same time she did. So much for lurking behind the flower arrangements while he waited for a moment to speak to her alone. She turned, and the light slid along the silk folds of her strapless gown, which crisscrossed across her breasts and hips, throwing every curve into perfect relief before it cascaded in folds to the floor.

      She looked like a goddess.

      A really angry goddess.

      She said something to her companions and stalked across the floor to where he stood next to the lilies, and he braced himself for thunder and lightning.

      “I saw you when you came in, Mr. Hayes. How did you get in here?”

      “I’m fine, thank you, Eve. You look beautiful.”

      Her step hitched in surprise, and then she recovered. “Thank you. If you’re following me, the answer is still no.”

      He managed to arrange his face in an expression of mild surprise. “I wasn’t, actually. I have a ticket, bought and paid for and arranged in advance.”

      Okay, so two-thirds of that was true.

      She narrowed her eyes at him and looked so completely touchable that he had to put his champagne down on the nearest table and stuff his hands in his pockets. What he really wanted to do was reach out and run them down her bare arms.

      “I don’t believe you.”

      He reached into his jacket. “I have it right here if you want to look at it.”

      “No, of course not. Fine. Enjoy yourself.” She turned to walk away.

      “And I’d heard such great things about Southern hospitality,” he said with regret to the nearest lily.

      That stopped her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “Only that I’d expected you to be a little more gracious in a social situation. Given your reputation for making people feel at ease and all. It certainly comes off on the screen.”

      “Are you implying that I’m not making you feel at ease?”

      She made him feel hot and slightly out of control and hornier than he’d felt in at least a year. “You could say so.” A pause. “Not that it matters. We only met today. Please.” He indicated the couple by the window, now chatting with a couple of guys in suits. “I don’t mean to keep you from your friends.”

      “That’s my grandmother—my father’s mother—and my aunt and uncle.” The words came out slowly, as if she were reluctant to tell him anything personal, but now felt as though she had to in order to be polite.

      “Are they here from Florida?” Again the narrowed eyes. “I did my research, Eve. That’s where you grew up, right?”

      “Yes. And no, they’re not. All my dad’s family is here in Atlanta.”

      His face relaxed into the first sincere smile of the evening. “It must be nice to have family so close. All mine are in New Mexico. I’m lucky to see them once every couple of years.”

      “Planes fly both ways.”

      “They do,” he allowed, “but after the November sweeps, things go crazy. I can never get out of New York during the holidays.”

      She nodded slowly. “I know. Before she died, I only saw Nana—she’s the one who raised me—in the summer during our hiatus, and Florida in July is, well…”

      “I know.” He took a breath as he caught a tune floating over the sounds of conversation. “Not to change the subject, but would you like to dance?”

      “Dance?”

      “Yes. An ancient rite performed in praise of the gods.” He surprised her into a smile, and his concentration fell into pieces. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he blurted.

      Then he gave himself a mental slap and waited for her to walk away.

      3

      MITCH NEVER LOST CONTROL. He was always calm, cool and unbiased…which, now that he came to think of it, hadn’t been standing him in good stead lately. Was that why his last two bids for shows had fallen through? Because he hadn’t shown enough passion for the chase? For them?

      Was that why his longest relationship in the last couple of years had topped out at six weeks?

      Was that why he kept striking out with Eve Best?

      But instead of rolling her eyes at his ineptitude, or sidestepping away as though he might be a stalker, Eve smiled again.

      “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said all day,” she said, then held up a finger. “No, the second thing. The first thing was about your family in New Mexico. I’d love to dance. Thank you.”

      Relieved and slightly dazed at this reversal of his expectations, he offered her his arm. She took it and they followed the sound of Duke Ellington into a massive glassed-in conservatory that had been converted into a ballroom. At one end, a big band played, perspiration trickling down the faces of the guys blowing trumpet and trombone. Fairy lights glittered in swaths along the wrought-iron ribs of the ceiling, and palm trees stood at intervals along the walls, with the windows opened to the night air. It felt like something out of the twenties, when mad young things danced the Charleston and the world held every possibility.

      Maybe his world held possibility, too, Mitch thought as he whirled Eve into a spin and then took her in his arms. And he didn’t mean for business, either. Tonight he was an ordinary man dancing with a desirable woman, and he would leave business out of it and enjoy every second.

      “So how long are you going to make me wait?” she asked.

      The green silk of her dress moved

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