He turned to Georgeanne and lowered his mouth to her ear. “We’re heading to the banquet table. Do you want to come with us?”
She shook her head, and John looked deep into her green eyes. “Don’t go anywhere.” Before she had a chance to reply, he and Lexie headed across the room.
“I want a big piece,” Lexie informed him. “With lots of frosting.”
“You’ll get a tummy ache.”
“No I won’t.”
He set her on her feet beside the table and waited long, frustrating minutes for her to choose just the right piece of cake with purple roses only. He found her a fork and a place to sit at a round table beside one of Hugh’s nieces. When he turned to look for Georgeanne, he spotted her out on the dance floor with Dmitri. Normally he liked the young Russian, but not tonight. Not when Georgeanne wore a short little dress, and not when Dmitri looked at her as if she were a serving of beluga caviar.
John wove his way through the crowded dance floor and placed a hand on his teammate’s shoulder. He didn’t have to say anything. Dmitri looked at him, shrugged, and walked away.
“I don’t think this is a very good idea,” Georgeanne said as he gathered her into his arms.
“Why not?” He pulled closer, fitting her soft curves against his chest and moving their bodies to the mellow music. You can have your career with the Chinooks, or you can have Georgeanne. You can’t have both. He thought about Virgil’s warning, and he thought about the warm woman in his arms. He’d already made his decision. He’d made it days ago in Detroit.
“Because Dmitri asked me to dance, for one thing.”
“He’s a commie bastard. Stay away from him.”
Georgeanne leaned back far enough to look up into his face. “I thought he was your friend.”
“He was.”
A frown creased her forehead. “What happened?”
“We both want the same thing, only he isn’t going to get it.”
“What do you want?”
There were a lot of things he wanted. “I saw you talking to Virgil. What did he say?”
“Not a lot. I told him I was sorry for what happened seven years ago, but he wouldn’t accept my apology.” She appeared puzzled for a moment, then shook her head and looked away. “You said he’d moved on, but he’s still very bitter.”
John slid his palm to the side of her throat and lifted her chin with his thumb. “Don’t worry about him.” He stared into her face, then raised his eyes to the old man staring back at him. His gaze found Dmitri and a half dozen other men who’d taken shifty-eyed glances at Georgeanne’s bustline. Then he lowered his face and his lips took possession of hers. He possessed her with his mouth and tongue and his hand moving from her back to her behind. The kiss was deliberate, long, hard. She clung to him, and when he finally lifted his mouth, she was breathless.
“Cryin‘ all night,” she whispered.
“Now, tell me about Charles.” Her gaze was a little glassy and a bit dazed. The passion in her eyes made him think of tangled bedsheets and soft flesh.
“You want to know about Charles?”
“Lexie told me you’re thinking of marrying him.”
“I told him no.”
Relief washed over him. He wrapped his arms tight around her and smiled into her hair. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said into her ear. Then he pulled back and looked at her face, at her luscious mouth, and said, “Why don’t we find someplace where I can take advantage of you? How big is the counter in the women’s bathroom?”
He recognized the spark of interest in her eyes before she turned her head and tried to hide her smile. “Are you high on drugs, John Kowalsky?”
“Not tonight,” he laughed. “I listened to Nancy Reagan and just said no. How about you?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed.
The music ended and a faster song began. “Where’s Lexie?” she asked above the noise.
John looked over at the table where he’d left her and pointed her out. Her cheek rested in her palm and her lids were lowered to half-mast. “She looks like she’s about to pass out.”