Jay looked around to search for a towel he could bring her so she could dry herself off, but realized that all towels had been removed from the pool area.
“A drink, please,” he suddenly heard her say while she motioned to him.
He turned his head then looked back at her. Had she spoken to him? “Me?”
“Yes, a drink, please.”
She pointed to his hands, and only now did Jay realize that he was still holding the tray he’d rescued from the waiter. The gorgeous young woman was confusing him with a waiter. Well, no wonder! Mrs. Gilbert had dressed the catering staff in tuxedos, and unfortunately Jay was wearing the same type of outfit. In fact, earlier in the kitchen, one of the staff had confused him with a waiter and pressed a tray full of champagne glasses into his hands. He and Paul had laughed about the incident, and his friend had suggested buying a new tuxedo.
Smiling to himself, Jay crossed the distance between him and the water nymph and bent down to her with his tray. She snatched a glass of amber liquid off it and took a sip.
Jay set the tray on the table next to her and watched how she swallowed the burning whiskey, her face scrunching up briefly, evidence that she wasn’t used to it.
“It was very nice of you to pull him out,” he commented.
She rolled her eyes. “Better that than having to listen to my mother’s complaints any longer.”
Jay smiled at her and noticed how she shivered. He took off his tuxedo jacket. “Ah, yes, mothers have a way of annoying their children.” He tossed a knowing look at Mrs. Gilbert, who now stood face to face with her son, exchanging words with Paul with a clenched jaw. Jay took his jacket and put it around the young woman’s shoulders. “Here.”
“Thank you.”
She took another sip and ran her eyes over him. Slowly. The way she licked her lips at the same time gave him a little, not at all unpleasant, jolt. Suddenly he was the one shivering.
“What are you doing after your shift?”
“My shift?”
She sighed. “Yes, when you’re done working here. I can’t wait to get away from all these arrogant rich people.”
At her words, his mind instantly went into overdrive. She wanted to get away from these arrogant rich people? Wasn’t she part of the same society? He looked at her. Everything about her suggested that she belonged here. So why did she want to leave an event where she was among her peers? Could it mean that money meant nothing to her? That in fact she’d rather go out on a date with a waiter than any of the rich bachelors at this party? Interesting.
He let his eyes wander over her body, taking in her curves without haste. Strong shoulders and arms. Small, but pert breasts. Slender, but strong thighs. And the most gorgeous toes he’d ever seen. She was young, maybe even eight to ten years younger than he. Maybe even too young for him. But at this moment he didn’t care. Neither did his cock, which started stirring beneath his tuxedo pants.
She was positively delectable. But that wasn’t even the best of it. She was willing to go out with a poor waiter. Well, actually somebody she thought was a poor waiter. And what was the harm in pretending to be poor? It would be worse if he did the opposite. This could be a golden opportunity—to get to know a woman without her being blinded by his money.
“No plans. But I’m open to suggestions.” Jay lifted his gaze to her eyes and added, “Or if you prefer, I could come up with some suggestions.” He had plenty of those. And judging by the look she gave him now, she would be game for all of them.
“That works too.” She set the empty glass back on the tray, her cheeks rosy now. “I’m Tara.”
“I’m Jay.” He leaned closer and dropped his voice, knowing that his southern accent was more pronounced now. It always was when he was flirting—or aroused. And right now he was both.
“And I’ll be your server tonight.”
2
The southern drawl did something to her. As did his warm breath that now ghosted over her face. Tara inhaled his scent, allowing it to ignite something primal in her. She’d never been one to proposition a man so blatantly, but tonight she’d just about had it with polite society and was ready to escape its clutches.
Polite? Yeah, right! Was it polite for a married man, like Paul’s brother-in-law Quentin, to make a pass at her, while his pregnant wife was taking care of their three-year-old boy? Tara didn’t think so. And that wasn’t the only thing that had happened today. Shortly after extricating herself as swiftly as possible from Quentin’s advances, her parents had cornered her and read her the riot act.