"You could have said no," Brant pointed out.
"To Jerri? No, my friend, one does not say no to a woman like her. Besides, I'm actually glad I came." He took a sip of his champagne and eyed the other man over the rim. "Why are you allowing other men to dance with your lovely wife?"
"She's a free agent."
"If that's the case, why do you look as if you're about to march out there and wipe the floor with poor Jason?"
"She's free to do as she pleases," he muttered into his glass and was about to take a sip when he noticed that 'poor Jason's' hand was riding his wife's buttocks. With a snarl, he shoved the glass at Jackson and marched onto the dance floor.
Lifting his own glass in a toast, Jackson watched the scene unfold, shaking his head when Jason released Indigo with undue haste. "Good for you, my friend," Jackson murmured with a chuckle and went to find his own wife.
The journey home was done in complete silence. Indigo was fuming at the high-handed way he cut in on the dance and bluntly told her partner to get lost. Then he coldly told her that it was time they were leaving. Without waiting for her to say goodbye to the friends she had just made, he took her arm and practically dragged her out of the room. And now his face looked like a thundercloud, when it was she who should be offended.
He had ignored her the entire night and danced with women who did not seem to care about his marital status because they were draped all over him. And just because Jason had gotten a little handsy, something she could have damned well dealt with herself, he had overreacted. The fact that she had never seen him angry before sent shivers racing up and down her spine. She did not dare hope that he was angry because he was jealous and had not wanted another man touching her.
Because that would mean what, exactly? Biting back a sigh, she sat up when he turned into the private driveway leading to the townhouse and brought the vehicle to a stop. Shoving the door open, he marched around to yank open the passenger side and waited for her to alight.
Without a word, he marched up to the front door and unlocked it.
She had shrugged out of her coat before she realized that he had walked past her and was making his way toward the staircase.
"That's it?" She caught up with him just as he mounted the steps. "You're not going to speak to me?"
"I don't want to say something I will regret in the morning," he told her tightly. Turning around, he mounted the rest of the steps with her following behind him.
"You're upset because I was dancing with Jason."
"Your powers of observation are admirable." The sarcasm in his voice could not be ignored.
"And you're a hypocrite." She clamped her hand on his arm just as he was about to turn toward his suite. "You danced with me once. And then you practically shoved me toward your friends' wives. Not to mention the fact that you were dancing with all those women."
"Who happened to be friends of mine," he said tightly, golden eyes glittering. "You just met the guy, and you stood there and allowed him to have his hands all over you."
"I was about to tell him to-"
"What? Procure a room upstairs to finish what he started on the dance floor?"
She stepped back as if he had slapped her. Brant could not believe the way he was behaving. He had seen the bastard's hands on her naked flesh and felt the red haze washing over him. "Look, I'm-"
"Go to hell!" she whispered. Before he could react, she had rushed toward her suite and slammed the doors shut behind her. He heard when the lock slid into place, making it impossible for him to go after her. Striding toward the locked doors, he lifted his fist and hammered on the solid oak.
"Indigo, please open the door." He waited a minute, and when there was no response, he knocked again, this time louder. "Dammit, just let me explain."
When she still did not respond, he stood there for a minute before turning on his heel and walking to his own suite.Slamming the doors shut, he just resisted the urge to slide the lock, just as she had done. He hadn't meant the nasty remark; it had just popped out of his mouth.
He had behaved irrationally, and it had to do with the fact that he had started to feel something for her. Yanking off the jacket, he tossed the cashmere carelessly over the tan leather sofa in front of the fireplace. Sitting on the side of the bed, he took off his boots and rose to finish taking off his clothes. He had been able to ignore the eagerness to come home to her and to hear her voice. He had chalked it down to being starved of female companionship.
Dragging on an old pair of sweats, he walked over to the cabinet to pour himself a drink. Taking it back with him, he sat on the chair and moodily watched as the blaze from the fire smoldered and simmered. Tonight, seeing her descend the stairs and looking like a very provocative and curvaceous angel had triggered a desire inside him that had only increased on the ride to the function. The minute he had held her in his arms for that one dance, the feelings had taken on an intensity that staggered him.
It had to be lust and a combination of being without a woman for longer than he had ever experienced. That was the simple explanation. His flesh was starved. He could go out of town and hook up with someone from his past, someone who would have the understanding that it would have to be discreet.
Tossing back the drink, he grimaced at how distasteful the very thought was to him. It was not a real marriage, but he had every intention of honoring his vows. And strangely, the idea of taking another woman to bed was not something he was interested in. With a resigned sigh, he poured himself another glass and prepared for a very long night.
Chapter 6
She awoke the next morning, groggy, disoriented and miserable. The night had been restless, with her twisting and turning as well as reliving the argument. What the hell had happened? she wondered. She had been so excited. His reaction to her appearance had boosted her confidence. When he took her in his arms and circled her around the dance floor, just being in his arms had been like a dream come true. She had allowed herself to imagine that the night would end up differently.
That the moment they shared, that intense and poignant moment when their eyes met and held, had meant something. That he would forget about the damn agreement and take her to his bed.