Lady Blackmoore passed the crystal glasses one at a time and as Felicity took hers, her eyes betrayed her and swept to Dominic. What she saw made her freeze, made her gut clench, and her body respond in a flush of wet heat.
His low-hooded eyes were fixed on her with a burning fire of their own. Only this time it wasn’t in anger. It was pure sex. A look that said he was visually fucking her with his imagination right now. He snagged the glass from his mother, his eyes never leaving hers, and he brought it to his full sexy mouth and drank from it without ever taking his eyes off her.
They might as well be the only ones in the room. The air was so thick it felt like fog covered them. A sensual fragrance filled the air—musky, sweet, and raw. Dominic’s nostrils flared as he inhaled the same fragrance she did. His eyes closed in an expression she could only describe as pained ecstasy before they flung open to devour her.
Felicity jerked her gaze away, a bright red flush coating her cheeks. The blush shamed her even more because she didn’t know whether it was from his look or because his mother shot them both a cowing glance.
Felicity forced herself to pull her gaze away. She was supposed to be torturing him not the other way around and as it stood right now, the memory of this night and the palpable intensity in the room would never be forgotten.
“I’ve heard you have quite the eye for refined, large parties,” Lady Blackmoore said.
Felicity’s eyes wanted so badly to pull back to Dominic. To see what he was thinking and to see if he was still staring at her. A niggling doubt sprung. What if this was all some joke on his part? After all, his bruid was sitting in the same room as them. This could all be faked, his way to toy with her after their encounter yesterday.
“Yes, I do. Call it natural talent.” Felicity pulled her résumé out of her portfolio’s case and slid it across the dark mahogany table separating them. Lady Blackmoore took it and began reading. A thin black eyebrow rose in surprise.
“You’ve worked with a quite a few high-list names. I wonder if I’ve attended any of these events. When was the last event you organized?”
Felicity froze, but then quickly forced a smile. Sure she’d been lying on her résumé for nearly a year but she’d never had an interview to discuss those lies. Of course Lady Blackmoore would know some of the high-list names she’d forged on the resume. What if Lady Blackmoore called them and verified that Felicity was nothing but a fraud? Panic grew like a wild weed but before it could take over she shoved it aside with a brutal hand. She leaned forward in her seat, determined to see the lies on her résumé through until she had this job in the bag.
The shawl fell down her arms and she felt heat burning the bare skin at her shoulder. A shiver raced down her arms as she pulled out the sample images from her portfolio and laid those around the table.
She answered by dodging the question. “That’s quite possible, Lady Blackmoore. I assure you I am capable of doing anything you want. All you have to do is tell me the general idea of what you’d like to have. For instance, at this particular event,” Felicity said, pointing to the image in the middle. “I designed everything you see here from the custom art work on the walls to the dancers hired to perform at the beginning of the night.”
The picture was of the beautiful ballroom in Godsfreade manor in Pennsylvania. She’d never actually been there but socialites used the room for major events all the time. It had a beautiful marble staircase that could easily fit twenty people straight across it. The entire room was made out in dark wooden beams etched with hand carved designs of doves and tulips. A glorious golden chandelier lit the room in a spectacular fashion and wall sconces, much dimmer in light, shadowed the walls. The ballroom easily held five hundred people at maximum capacity, and if the backdoors were opened which led to the award-winning Victorian-style gardens, then you could fit close to seven hundred.
In this picture, Felicity had designed round tables where black wooden chairs with a dark violet upholstering could sit up to six people. The tabletops were some of her best work. Atop them were the place settings with real silver dining ware. The name cards were made of heavy linen paper and embossed with heavy violet ink in an elegant cursive script. Wine glasses and water glasses sat behind the plates. Heavy linen napkins were rolled and wrapped in a lilac colored ribbon. A miniature vase with a single light purple lilac sat by each setting and in the center of the table was a large centerpiece of glass and crystal with six tall white candles lit. And below them were a bushel of lilacs and lilacs mixed with daisies.
It was a fantasy wedding, or so Felicity had made up. The colors she’d envisioned were white and lilac, with the deep violet from the chairs, the delicate purple flowers, and the white tablecloth, the colors made one heck of a sight.
If only it was real.
“And whose wedding was this?”
Felicity wracked her mind for a name and came up with the name of her last real client from a year ago. She’d been hired by a local barbeque restaurant to throw an annual company party. The man who’d hired her was Spencer Terry.
“The wedding was for Spencer Terry and his wife Terri.”
Lady Blackmoore’s thin eyebrow arched. “They both have the name Terry?”
Shit. Felicity quickly tried to fix her poor lie. “Um, yes actually. His last name is Terry and her face name is Terri but with an ‘i’. Odd, I know.” She laughed a little.
There that sounded good. She smiled again, all professional.
“So her name is now Terry Terri?” Lady Blackmoore said slowly.
Shit. I’m so busted!
She was just about to try to dig her way out of this nonsense when she heard a soft giggle.
Julianna Greenwich had the tops of her manicured fingers pressed against her trembling mouth as her shoulders shook. She was trying desperately not to laugh, but more giggles came and, as if she couldn’t hold it in any longer, she tossed her head back and laughed a good old-fashioned laugh that came all the way from her belly. The sound was so infectious Felicity joined in and then Lady Blackmoore’s laughter, and even that sounded polite, followed. Everyone laughed but Dominic.
Felicity looked at him still smiling and his entire body tensed.
Before she could decide what to make of Dominic Blackmoore the door opened swung open. Felicity watched a drop-dead sexy man saunter in with a confident smile and crinkles around his Blackmoore eyes.
“What’s so funny?” the man asked. He headed right into their private party, grabbed the finished drink out of Dominic’s hand then refilled it and tossed it back like he was taking a shot. Then he looked each one of them in the face and took a seat next to Felicity.
Felicity felt another charge in the air and for some reason she scooted a little away from him. The charge diminished, somewhat.
The man had a sexy appeal to him that looked completely natural, not like he did it on purpose. He looked an awful lot like Dominic but had ruggedness to him. Dark stubble covered his jaw and chin and crossed at the top of his lip to give him a sexy beard and moustache that he kept trim to his skin. He wore a white long sleeved shirt that fit him loosely but also hinted at a lean, hard body underneath. With that he wore jeans, a black knit belt and heavy black boots that he promptly lifted and sat on the expensive wood table.
Dominic spoke first. His eyes were leveled on the man, unwelcoming. “This has nothing to do with you, Luc. Just leave now.”