Hannah winced. 'Sorry,' she said softly. Ethan was going to be mad when he realised how far out his first impressions had been.
'Thirty or so of your closest friends! I thought this was going to be a quiet dinner party.'
'Don't fuss, Ethan. We only managed to contact fifteen of yours. Here's Hannah and Drew—what a charming picture they make. Don't you think so?'
Under the ferocity of her husband's regard, Hannah realised she was still clutching at Drew's lapel. Her hand fell away self-consciously.
'Charming,' Ethan drawled. 'Where have you been hiding today?'
Hannah's temper rose at the accusatory note in his voice. 'I could ask you the same question, except I already know. Drew has told me. Do yourself a favour and reduce the surveillance, Ethan, he's not marrying your mother. You may be a great legal mind, but right now you're just in danger of looking rather silly.' Ignoring the shocked look of outrage on his face, she sailed past him, head held high.
The guests, as was often the case, arrived in a deluge, rather than drips, and Hannah was saved from listening to the scorching response to her reckless words that she was certain Ethan had composed.
He'd deserved it, she decided, flicking a covert glance to the opposite end of the room where he was laughing at something Miranda had said. She'd obviously been ready to drop everything at short notice in order to make Ethan laugh. Laugh—I'd like to make him plead for mercy, she thought viciously, draining her glass of wine.
Bringing his mistress into this house, flaunting her under my nose, she silently fumed, ignoring the fact that Ethan was a very reluctant host. How dare he humiliate me?
'Are you feeling all right?' a voice at her elbow enquired.
She turned to find Drew regarding her overbright eyes and flushed cheeks with a doubtful frown. 'You're a man.'
Drew agreed nervously with this accusation. In his experience, conversations that began like this were apt to get uncomfortable.
'Do you think she's beautiful?' Hannah demanded. She tossed her head in the direction of the tall redhead. 'Of course she is,' she replied, without waiting to hear his opinion.
'So are you.'
'You're such a nice man,' she said, regarding him affectionately. 'You'd never invite your mistress to a party at your wife's home, would you? No, of course not, you're far too consid.-.conside...thoughtful.'
'I think there's a possibility you're jumping to conclusions here,' he murmured, removing the empty glass from her limp grasp. 'Just how much have you had to drink?'
'Not enough!' she informed him darkly. 'Can you dance? I can't. You could teach me...' she announced, smiling at this inspired idea. She swayed closer and wound her arms around his neck.
I'm more than capable of teaching my wife anything she needs to know.'
Hannah pulled in the opposite direction as she was pulled from one pair of masculine arms to another. 'I prefer to dance with Drew,' she said haughtily, pushing her hands against Ethan's chest.
'Will you lower your voice?' Ethan said from between clenched teeth as he favoured her with a furious look. 'People are staring.'
As Ethan stepped into the slowly moving throng, Hannah felt the inevitable magic of his touch taking over. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to hate him, but how could she when her whole body was gently throbbing? The strength of his big body, the musky, warm scent of him overlaid by the elusive fragrance he sparingly wore—it all conspired to bewitch her senses.
Throwing her head back, she saw the muscles clench beside his stern mouth as she deliberately plastered herself against the hard length of his body. Well, what did he expect? Was she supposed to stand back calmly and watch him flirt so outrageously with that woman? No, it was about time she asserted herself, and if he didn't like it—tough!
'What do you think you're doing?' he asked hoarsely as she reached up and wound her fingers in dark strands of his hair.
She pouted consideringly and regarded him through half-closed eyes. 'I haven't decided yet. Doesn't Miranda dance?'
'You're drunk!' he accused.
'As a matter of fact I've only had two glasses of wine.
I do feel a bit odd, though,' she confessed as she noticed the room beginning to spin faster than she was.
'We should get out of here.'
'You're ashamed of me!' she accused, standing stock-still. She put a hand to her head. 'I feel a bit...' She swallowed as beads of sweat broke out over her upper lip.
'Ethan, dear,' Faith said a little nervously as she appeared at his elbow, 'Drew said Hannah was feeling a little unwell.'
'I'm not drunk, Faith. Tell Ethan I'm not drunk.'
'The thing is, I think this might be my fault.'
'I hardly think so, Mother, unless you've slipped her a Mickey,' Ethan said tersely.