“Nothing since then.”
“Because he feels guilty? Daisy, you blackmailed him into being your date; there’s no way in hell this ends well.”
“Blackmail implies coercion; he wasn’t coerced. I wanted to back out, but he insisted we do this.”
“Just watch yourself around him. This isn’t real . . . don’t convince yourself that it is.”
“Why can’t it be real? Because no man would be truly interested in the other, ugly McGregor sister?” she asked, the old doubts resurfacing with a vengeance from where they’d been lurking just beneath her fragile new layer of self-confidence.
“Daisy, no! Look at you, you’re beautiful. Stop denigrating yourself. I just want you to find something genuine, and while Mason puts on a great show, it’s all fake. Don’t forget that.”
“How can I?” Daisy asked bitterly. “When I have you around to constantly remind me?”
“Daisy . . .” Her sister looked both remorseful and unapologetic at the same time. How was that even possible? Daisy shook her head and held up her hand to forestall whatever Daff wanted to say next.
“Leave it for now. I’ll take your words under advisement. Thanks for your concern. I’d like to get back to my fake date now, if you don’t mind.”
She turned and stormed out of the bathroom with Daff hot on her heels. Both women unaware of the fact that the corner stall snicked open after they left and a grinning Zinzi Khulani stepped out, her phone already in hand to text her friend the juicy bit of gossip she had just learned.
“What did she do to piss you off?” Mason asked, while he politely helped Daisy back into her chair.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Daisy said, trying to hide her trembling hands as she fought to get her temper under control. Daff, in the meantime, summoned the waiter over to order a whiskey sour, which she tossed back immediately before demanding another one. Lia looked both concerned and disapproving but didn’t say anything, keeping a strained smile on her face when Mrs. Edmonton leaned over to speak with her.
Daisy tried to take in great big gulps of air in an attempt to get her anger and hurt under control. She was aware of Mason looking at her with a concerned frown, but she forced a smile for him even though he knew her well enough by now to be able to tell when she was faking it.
She watched as some of the younger couples started making their way to the tiny dance floor, laughing and looking carefree as they started to sway together. She knew most of them and envied their ease and self-confidence.
“Dance?” he asked quietly, and she shook her head.
“No. Don’t dance, remember?”
“We could try to break the chicken dance curse?”
“I thought you didn’t dance either,” she reminded him, and he grinned. She forgot her self-pity party for a moment and tilted her head as she ran her speculative gaze over him. “Why don’t you dance? You never told me.”
“Hmm, I said it was second-date material, if I recall correctly, which means I should have told you at MJ’s. My bad.”
“We’re not really dating, and if we were, MJ’s was our first date, not our second.”
“Yeah? Howdya figure that? What about Ralphie’s?”
“That was . . . that wasn’t a date,” she spluttered. “It was a con job.”
“We talked, we laughed, and I bought you a drink. It was a date.”
“You didn’t buy me a drink.”
“I’m sure I offered to buy you—” He broke off what he’d been about to say and tsked before wagging a censorious index finger back and forth in front of her face. “Stop distracting me. I asked if you wanted to dance.”
“I already answered.”
“We don’t have to dance in here,” he said, his voice a low, sexy rumble. “We could go out onto the patio. We’d still be able to hear the music from there.”
Daisy glanced longingly at the huge glass wall and doors that led out to the hotel’s private terrace overlooking the ocean. It was a chilly evening, and none of the other guests had ventured out.
“I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air. Maybe just a walk on the beach or something instead of the dance?”
“If you promise to save your first dance at the wedding for me.”
“Only if you tell me why you don’t dance,” she countered, and he grinned.
“You’ve got yourself a deal. Now let’s get out of here.”
Daff anxiously watched Mason smoothly making excuses before taking Daisy’s hand and leading her through the tables toward the exit. Daisy didn’t look back. She had been pointedly avoiding eye contact since their earlier chat in the powder room. Daff stifled a sigh and tossed back another drink, ignoring the weight of Lia’s disapproving stare. She could perhaps have handled the conversation a little better, but she didn’t trust Mason Carlisle.