Beauty and the Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #2)(83)

“Three. That seems like a big change.”

“It is. And that’s not all. That man of yours hired more staff and gave the rest of us a raise.” She patted her pocket. “I got a Christmas bonus, too.”

“That’s wonderful,” Gretchen said with a smile. “But I don’t know that he’s my man. I—”

But Brandy was already on her way to the next group, a cheery smile on her face. “Hi there. Hors d’oeuvres?”

Her man. Gretchen popped the appetizer into her mouth and tasted the words. Her man. She liked that. Did he miss her like she missed him? God, she hoped so or this was going to get awkward, fast. She turned around and sucked in a breath.

There he was, at the center of the room, in the thick of the party. He looked pained and uncomfortable . . . and utterly gorgeous. A black tuxedo fit him to the nines, and his hair had been cut recently, his new hairstyle keeping his hair off his forehead and giving him a slightly rakish air. He stood with a group of people, a flute of champagne in his hand. A stiff-looking silver-haired couple were talking to him animatedly, and he kept a polite smile on his face even though he looked a bit trapped.

She giggled at that, even as her fingers curled with the need to touch him. Instead, she just watched him from a distance, enjoying his every move, noting the way his cheek pulled when his mouth curved into a lopsided smile. How could anyone think of that raw, masculine, delicious man as anything but beautiful? She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Then he turned, and his attention seemed to head unerringly for her. His gaze lit up.

Gretchen’s feet felt glued to the floor. She should go over and say hello to him. Interrupt the conversation he was having. Something. Anything. Instead, she stood there like a dummy, her brain unable to work.

Hunter was having a party and entertaining people. Her Hunter. He was breaking out of his self-imposed exile. Was this all for her?

How could she possibly be mad at a man who was going to such lengths to prove to her that he could be the man she needed him to be? He’d manipulated her—and others—with his influence, that was true, but now she understood why. He’d never thought that she’d be interested in him, never thought she would give him the time of day, so he’d done the only thing he could do to bring her close. And while it was low-down, dirty, and craven . . . she understood it and even felt a twinge of sympathy for him that he’d felt the need to go so very far for something as simple and basic as human need for another person.

He extricated himself from the conversation, handed his glass to a passing waiter, and strolled toward her, adjusting the front of his tuxedo jacket as if to make sure he looked his best. She found that utterly charming. Here was Hunter Buchanan, the most sexy, glorious, powerful man in the room, and he was making sure he looked good enough for her.

It was a heady feeling.

He walked up to her, reached out, and then dropped his hand. A hint of unease flashed across his face but he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. “Gretchen. You look . . . lovely.”

She smiled at him, shifting when someone passed too close to them. “Hi, Hunter.” She didn’t know what to say. This hadn’t been a problem she’d had often. Normally words just ran right out of her mouth whether she wanted them to or not. A tall, slinky woman strolled past, her tight bandage gown glittering with sequins. “I seem to be underdressed.”

“On the contrary,” Hunter said. “You’re the most gorgeous thing in this room. You don’t need flash to improve your beauty. Just your smile.”

She couldn’t resist smiling at that. “You flirt.”

He flushed a little.

“Nice party,” she told him, stepping aside as another couple moved past them. The room was positively packed. “You did well.”

“I did it for you,” he told her in a voice so low she almost didn’t catch it.

She swallowed hard. “You did, huh?”

“All for you. Everything. I want to prove to you that . . . I can be who you need me to be.”

She shook her head. “Hunter, all I’ve ever needed was—” She paused as someone in the crowd called his name. “Maybe this is a bad time.”

“Not a bad time,” he told her with a growl, and then he was at her side, cupping her elbow and steering her through the crowd. “Come with me.”

They wound silently through the throng and escaped down a back hallway—the north wing. Hunter’s wing. At the sight of the familiar paintings hanging on the wall, she felt a sharp stab of longing. If they continued down a second hallway, they’d get to his room. Was his bed lonely without her? Was this thing they had too broken to be fixed? Had she been too hard on him when she should have been understanding as to what drove him?

Hunter stopped in front of the large windows at the far end of the hall, where the corridor split and branched toward Hunter’s suite of rooms. From here, the wintry gardens were visible and the evergreen bushes were peeking out from under a blanket of snow. His hand lifted as if he wanted to reach for her and he just as quickly drew back.

“You’re well?” he asked in a clipped voice, clasping his hands behind his back and glancing out the window.

“Actually, no,” she told him. When he turned to her with a stricken look, she said, “There’s this guy who kind of broke my heart. He lied to me and sabotaged my work just so I could stay around him a bit longer.”