As they walked up the steps, Daniel slid his hand around her, pulling her close so she could feel the warmth of him through his tuxedo. The evening air was cool, making her shiver, so he pulled her even closer. She breathed in, inhaling the deep musk of his cologne.
“Daniel.” Lawrence held his hand out to his brother as they reached the door. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
Daniel’s fingers twitched on her back. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Becca bit down a smile at the dryness of his voice.
“And Becca. We’re delighted to have you here.” Melissa smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Has Daniel told you the history of this house?”
“No he hasn’t.” Becca’s smile was perfectly polite. “We were a little… busy this afternoon.”
Daniel chuckled at her insinuation. Even if it was a complete lie.
Melissa’s poise slipped. Only for a moment. “Maybe you can come see us another time and I’ll arrange for a tour.” Her eyes flickered to Daniel’s. “We’d love to host the two of you.”
“That’s a very kind offer. Thank you.” Becca had no plans of coming back. She was already feeling like she had insects crawling on her skin.
“We’ll see you later,” Daniel murmured, steering her away from his brother.
“Make sure you save me a dance,” Melissa called after him. Lawrence murmured something to her, and she whispered furiously back at him.
“I guess all is not well in the Jackson-Carter house,” Daniel said, picking up a glass of champagne from a tray and handing it to Becca. His other arm was still wrapped around her. She liked it. Maybe too much.
As they made their way to the ballroom, people greeted Daniel like he was their long lost friend, asking about Scotland, about Nathan, and the distillery. “So much for having no friends,” Becca said pointedly, as they approached his mothe
r’s table.
“They’re acquaintances at best,” Daniel told her. “The problem with Charleston is that everybody has a great memory. Some of them stretch back about three hundred years.”
Eliana rose to greet them, hugging first Becca, then Daniel. Then she introduced them to the other guests at the table. Of course they all knew Daniel, and Becca marveled again at how pleased they seemed to see him.
So he really was just an angry man at work, then. Interesting.
“Oh good, you’re sitting next to me,” a smiling woman said as Becca took her seat. “I’m Julia. Usually, I get the old leeches who pat my thigh about a hundred times before I threaten to kick them in the nuts.”
Becca grinned. “Well you do have nice thighs.”
Julia filled both of their wine glasses up. “So I see you’re with Daniel. Have you two been dating for long.”
Becca looked at Daniel. He just shrugged. Thanks for your help. “We work together,” Becca said, turning back to Julia. Maybe if she answered every awkward question with a change of subject she’d survive the night. It felt better than lying, anyway.
“It’s nice to see him with somebody so smiley for a change.” Julia said. “Which brings me to my next question. Have you met Melissa yet?”
“Yes she has,” Daniel said, rolling his eyes at Becca. “And it’s always a delight to sit with you, Julia.” He lifted a brow. “Becca, this is Julia Raymond. Charleston’s finest gossip queen. And my mother’s best friend, which is something I’ve never been able to work out.”
Julia laughed. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”
“Be careful what you say to her. She has a mind like an Excel spreadsheet. She knows the names of who’s slept with who in Charleston for the last four centuries.” He lifted his glass to his lips, his warm eyes belying his fondness for her.
“People just seem to confide in me.” Julia shrugged. “I can’t help it if I have one of those faces.”
As Daniel had promised, the guests barely touched the food, though the wine flowed like water, bottles constantly being replaced by the wait staff. By the time coffee was served, the buzz in the room had reached a crescendo, edged with the tinkling of laughter and the occasional shout.
“And now it’s time for the whole of Charleston society to get their dicks out and wave them around.” Daniel leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“The auction?”
“Yes. By tomorrow morning half these people will be fighting headaches and trying to get through to their bank manager to ask for a loan to cover the jet ski or the Bahamas vacation they bid on. It’ll probably take them an hour to remember it’s a Sunday.”