Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(61)
“Probably a hundred or more,” Sahara said. When someone offered to take her wrap, she shook her head and instead draped it over an arm. “Douglas heats the garden area out back, and utilizes a game room downstairs. I assume anywhere we go, it’ll be this crowded.”
“So where do you want to go?” He didn’t like standing in the open, especially with Sahara turning heads.
“Come on.” Keeping her arm in his, oblivious to all the men watching her, Sahara propelled them forward, past several rooms, to a bar set up in a wide area where many couples danced to a live band. “Drink?”
Brand told the bartender, “Cola.”
Smiling, Sahara said to him, “Party pooper.” She took a glass of wine.
When a casually dressed man approached, Brand stiffened. The man paid no attention to him at all and went straight for Sahara, his face lit with an enormous grin. “You came! I’m so glad.” He clasped her bare upper arms and drew her into an embrace.
“Of course I did. I’m a woman of my word.” Sahara dodged his kiss by leaning into Brand. “Douglas, I’d like you to meet Brand Berry. Brand, this is District Attorney Douglas Grant.”
Douglas blinked as if someone had just materialized, proving he hadn’t even noticed Brand.
Brand slipped his left arm around Sahara, but extended his right hand. “Beautiful home you have.”
Shaking off his surprise, Douglas accepted the gesture with a firm but friendly grip. “Yes, thank you. Brand, is it?”
Brand nodded.
“You two are...together?”
Why the hell did he have to look so shocked? Brand grinned to hide his insult and said, “I’m doing my best.”
Leaning forward, Sahara confided, “His best is amazing.”
“I see. Well I...” He looked beyond Brand, frowned, then turned back again. “You like the house, huh? I prefer the Hamptons. We have a quaint little cottage there... Well, you know nothing is that small in the Hamptons, not in the best areas—”
Sahara chimed in with “Isn’t that your father’s property, Douglas?”
“Yes, well...” He cleared his throat with a frown. “I don’t get away often enough to bother buying my own. When I do find time for a vacation, I enjoy it there.” After that rambling explanation, he said, “Why don’t I show you around?”
Since Brand wouldn’t mind seeing the layout, he nodded. “All right.”
Before they could take two steps, Douglas added, “Sahara, I see Lisa looking for you. Stay and visit, and I’ll bring Brand right back to you.”
No, Brand didn’t like that idea at all. “I’d rather—”
“She’ll be fine. Though it’s been a while since she visited, Sahara already knows her way around. Isn’t that right, Sahara?”
“Yes, it’s been a good long while since I visited.” She sipped her wine. “I didn’t think to ever return.”
Douglas’s smile grew brittle. “I’m glad I could persuade you.”
“Curiosity,” she explained with a small shrug. “I want to hear all about your willingness to work with me.”
Presumably it was Lisa who suddenly embraced Sahara, saving Douglas from having to reply. The woman was already talking a mile a minute. Douglas’s wife? Brand wasn’t sure, but Sahara did seem to genuinely like her.
He resisted Douglas’s efforts to lead him away, and with an apology for interrupting Lisa, leaned in to say near Sahara’s ear, “Stay here, okay?”
“Of course.”
“Right here,” he emphasized, his voice still low, his gaze holding hers. “I don’t want to have to look for you.” In a place this packed, he’d have a hell of a time finding her.
She put a hand to his jaw, brushing her fingertips over his growing beard stubble, then went on tiptoe to whisper, “I’ll stay in this room, but watch Douglas. He’s a snake.”
Brand briefly put his mouth to hers. “You look so hot.” And with that, he turned and left with Douglas, pressing through the crowd.
This was going to be the fastest tour in history.
Or so he thought.
Douglas waxed on about every room until Brand was ready to abandon him over the excess of details. They were on the upper floors, going through an elegant library that, according to Douglas, held a bunch of first editions that amounted to quite a collection, when a stacked blonde joined them.
Wearing a short black sleeveless dress and heels as high as those Sahara favored, the woman brushed back her long loose hair. She was a little on the voluptuous side, but in all the right ways.
Brand hoped she was there to interrupt the tour.
Red lips smiled when she spotted Douglas, but then her gaze transferred to Brand. She looked him over from head to toe the same way a dog ogles a meaty bone. “Douglas,” she cooed, without looking away from Brand, “you’re needed in the garden.”
“Problem?” Douglas asked.
She shrugged a bare shoulder. “Some debate that only you can decide, apparently, but don’t worry, I’ll tend to your guest.”
Smiling, Douglas said low, “I just bet you will,” and then in a normal tone, “Brand, meet Chelsea Tuttle, daughter to my wife’s dearest friend and a member of one of the most influential families in the state. Chelsea is like a niece to us. We’re very close.”