How to Resist Prince Charming(3)

She seemed ecstatic, in fact. The woman simply glowed. While he’d been fantasizing about escape, she looked perfectly pleased to be present.

At least he’d been dreaming of getting as far away as he could until two seconds ago.

But now that she was here—whoever she was, standing there as if waiting for someone to greet her.

Feeling the urge to oblige, Braxton set his glass down and slipped off his bar stool. Welcoming committee, here he came.

He knew it was wrong to hit on someone here of all places, since she was obviously the date to one of his employees. But he couldn’t stop himself.

He just had to get closer. He hadn’t even made it all the way off his stool, though, when the person she’d been waiting for entered behind her and set a hand on her waist to guide her into the room.

A predatory growl of possessiveness filled Braxton’s throat. While he remained civil enough to stop the sound from escaping, he eyed his competition with a narrowed gaze.

The glare dropped abruptly, as did Braxton, smacking back onto his barstool with a thud. His jaw came loose from its hinges and fell open.

“No...way.”

This couldn’t be right. It certainly couldn’t be real. Any moment, Braxton expected to blink awake and discover he’d been stuck in a nightmare, because the man accompanying his mystery lady was none other than Thomas Davenport.

It was the irony of all ironies for Tom to be the man to walk in with the only interesting thing Braxton had seen all evening.

There was no way in hell she was Tom’s wife.

Okay, sure, he’d never met Tom’s wife, but no, this girl was...just that. A girl. She was a child compared to Tom and much too young for him, unless he’d traded for a newer model since proclaiming he’d been married longer than Braxton had been alive. But that had been last week, so the theory didn’t carry much weight.

Reassured, Braxton stared at Davenport and his escort.

Escort.

Oh, dear Lord, could she be an escort? A paid, professional escort? Braxton’s eyes widened at the very prospect. Maybe she was Tom’s plaything.

But then, why would Tom bring his plaything and not his wife to the company party?

Watching Tom and the girl wander toward Tom’s friends, Braxton noticed all the guys—Ben, Pat, and Charlie—knew her. They exclaimed in surprise. Ben even opened his arms to give her a hug. The girl grinned and hurried forward to throw her arms around crabby old Ben Hendricks, who beamed at her as if she were his very own daughter.

Daughter.

Oh no.

No, no, no. Life couldn’t be that cruel.

Ben’s wife pulled her into a motherly embrace next, which threw out the whole paid escort theory. There was no way on God’s green earth Phyllis Hendricks would hug some call girl or any man’s plaything.

So, yep, she had to be Tom’s daughter.

Braxton swallowed and wiped the sudden perspiration off his brow. Damn, who had turned up the temperature in this place?

Fisting his hand, he set it against his mouth and blew out a breath. He couldn’t take his gaze off Tom Davenport’s daughter.

Tom’s. Daughter.

Okay, he could deal with this. It wasn’t like he even knew her. She was probably a brat, or uptight and snooty. She was Tom’s offspring, after all.

Maybe she talked with a spitting lisp. Or maybe—hopefully—she had a lazy eye and bad body odor.

Beauty was only skin deep, right? She was probably hideous on the inside. Braxton gritted his teeth. But, God, she had some amazing skin, skin he’d like to investigate up close, and personal.

In his head, she was already his, naked on his bed and moaning out her tenth orgasm. Realizing she was unavailable frustrated him. Fuck. He couldn’t even flirt with her.

Braxton gnawed on his bottom lip as he stared holes through Davenport’s daughter. Finally, he said, “Screw it,” before he drained his glass and slipped off his stool.

What harm could come from a simple introduction? He had to know what he was missing.

He wanted to sprint right over but held himself back. Casually, he slipped into mingling mode, smiling at a couple nearing the bar and thanking them for coming. He knew he should stop staring, but telling himself that and getting his eyes to cooperate were two different trials altogether.

She looked just as delicious from the back as she had from the front. The silver material of her dress cupped an ass that had his mouth watering and his hands itching to palm each glittery cheek.

Finally, she turned enough to give him a view of her side profile. Okay, so her tits weren’t the biggest he’d ever seen, but they were definitely more than a mouthful, which was all he needed.

Braxton swallowed, dazed by the force of his craving. This was the first time he’d been struck by such an intense wave of instant lust.

She listened to the conversation around her with a slight frown. He didn’t realize he was the main topic until Tom said, “Where is the kid, anyway? Tasha take him to the bathroom to change his diaper?”

“Dad,” the stunning woman at his side admonished, tapping him in the arm with her elbow. “Behave.”

Braxton grinned, utterly charmed. She didn’t even know him, yet here she was, defending him. He liked that. He liked it a lot.

“Actually, Tom,” he murmured from directly behind her. “I’ve graduated to the big boy potty these days. It’s got a kick-ass Mickey Mouse design on it and everything.”