“Cal, great to see you, too.” Will’s voice was warm as he held out his hand and the two men shook. “Monette.” His voice became slightly less warm. “Please meet Harper.” He slid his fingers around Harper’s, then told her, “Cal is business manager for the Maverick Group.”
The beautiful Monette was staring at Harper’s hand clasped in Will’s. She smiled, but despite her lush lips, perfect cheekbones, and expert makeup, the smile didn’t move beyond that slight twitch of her mouth. Her manicured grip tightened on Cal’s arm.
Will made polite conversation. “I’m so glad Harper agreed to come with me tonight.”
“It’s been such a treat,” she said, hoping her smile looked genuine despite her discomfort beneath the other woman’s laser-focused gaze.
When Cal smiled back, it filled his face and deepened the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. “A Wicked treat.”
“Oh Cal, you’re so funny and smart.” Monette spoke for the first time, her tone sultry, as if she’d whispered something naughty. Her gold dress sparkled with tiny jewels that Harper thought might actually be real.
She would not feel bad in her classic black cocktail dress, one she’d been so pleased to find on sale last year.
Will squeezed Harper’s fingers as though he could hear her thoughts. Not wanting him to think she wasn’t making an effort with his friends, she told them, “I haven’t been to the theater since The Phantom of the Opera.”
“That show was here ages ago, wasn’t it?” Monette drawled, as though she’d scored a point in a game Harper hadn’t realized they were playing. “I’m so glad Cal has been taking me to see everything lately.” She stroked the arm she held and blinked bedroom eyes at him.
Cal looked at Monette, a line between his brows, then at Will as if a light bulb was going on.
Oh. Well then. The light bulb had just gone on for Harper, too. Clearly, Will had a history with this woman. A sexy history, if Harper had to guess.
“This is only our second show,” Cal corrected politely, still smiling, still friendly.
But Monette’s eyes narrowed like those of a Siamese cat. Harper couldn’t say for sure, but she had the distinct impression this would be their last show. She was good at reading people, and the business manager looked like a man who, out of respect, wouldn’t date a woman who’d already infiltrated the Maverick Group once before.
Will beamed at Harper as though he was oblivious to the byplay. “Monette’s right. I’ve been remiss.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I should have been taking you out on the town instead of keeping you all to myself.” His eyes darkened as if he’d forgotten there were other people in the conversation as he added, “But I haven’t been able to help myself.”
All right, Will definitely wasn’t oblivious. But Harper stopped caring as her pulse raced and she couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t do anything but wish they were somewhere private so that he could strip her clothes off and make love to her. And she could make love to him, too.
“Cal, isn’t that the mayor I see over there?” Monette’s voice grated Harper right out of the spell Will had cast over her. “Didn’t you say you wanted to speak with him?”
Over Monette’s head, Cal raised a brow at Will, before saying, “Of course. It was lovely to meet you, Harper.” He let himself be led away.
“Franconi, it’s good to see you.”
Another tall, well-dressed man, with an older woman wearing fuchsia taffeta, slid so quickly into the vacated spot that Harper didn’t have a chance to ask Will about Monette. Which was a good thing. Because she shouldn’t ask about Monette. It wasn’t her business whom he’d been with before they started spending time together, and the very mention could come across as jealousy.
Except that when one conversation ended and another began as yet a different society couple poured into the empty space, she couldn’t help but consider what Monette had been to him. Had he called the other woman sweetheart? Had he looked smitten as he’d introduced Monette to all of these people at similar events? Had he invited her to meet the other Mavericks?
Or was there any possibility that Harper was the only one he was always touching—her back, the nape of her neck, her cheek, her hair?
And was there any chance at all that Harper was the only one he’d taken for those fast and wild rides?
When the bell rang signaling the end of the intermission, Will finally led her back to their box, pulling her close as soon as the door sealed them in. “If I’d known it was going to be like that, I’d have brought the champagne in here and kept the door locked.” He nuzzled her hair. “Sorry about Monette. She can be catty.”