I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(15)
“Liam, can we get the name of your date?”
“Who’s on your arm, Liam?”
He pulled me closer, holding my fingers firmly as his free arm went to the small of my back. Leaning close, he whispered, “Do you want me to keep you anonymous?”
His breath tickled my ear, sending a chill down my neck, and I glanced into his eyes—and then promptly wished I hadn’t.
The deep-blue depths showed concern for me, and I had the overwhelming desire to ease his burdens. “No, I have nothing to hide.”
Something flashed in his eyes, and he gave me a brief, appreciative smile before glancing at the photographers. “Charlie Lucas.”
Questions bombarded me, one after the other. A balding man in the very front hollered, positioning his camera as he asked, “Charlie, who are you wearing?”
“My best friend’s closet,” I said, flashing him a smile. I didn’t even think to look at the tag. Hopefully this didn’t make it into the back section of whatever magazine was covering this event, or Beth would kill me.
Or maybe she wouldn’t. I could just get her name put in ink too. I lifted my hand toward my hair. “My whole look is Beth Parker.”
“Beth Parker?”
“Yes, of Bella Diva Salon.”
I got a few confused glances before Liam turned me away from the cameras and toward the door of the massive hotel. Naomi Price slipped inside ahead of us, but not before giving me a solid once-over.
“Wow, she’s intimidating.”
Liam’s hand squeezed my waist. “You did great out there.”
I shot him what I hoped was a very sarcastic grin. “You mean shouting my best friend’s name to give her two milliseconds of fame?”
He chuckled. “Hopefully she gets it, then.”
***
My experience with charity balls was limited—as in, nonexistent—so when we stepped through the sweeping, grand foyer of the hotel and followed the clear signs toward the ballroom labeled Teaching United Charity Ball, I was not prepared for the sight. Dim lighting kept the ambiance smooth with the help of a gentle saxophone as men and women littered the room in glossy gowns and elegant tuxedos.
I felt completely out of my comfort zone.
Tightening my hold on Liam, I leaned closer to him. “You didn’t tell me it was going to be so . . .”
“Big?” he asked.
I faced him, my raised eyebrows mimicking his. This was the sort of party attended by the uber-rich in TV shows and movies. Not real people in real life. I saw more than one famous person that I had previously only seen on large screens—or my own TV—and my heart rate increased with each new face. Would it be totally gauche to ask them to take a selfie with me?
Yes. Not cool, Charlie.
Liam, on the other hand, totally fit in. He could have walked straight out of a GQ photoshoot; he looked so tall, lean, and perfect.
Pulling my hand from Liam’s, I smoothed it down my gown. I was completely out of my element amidst the elegance, and we’d hardly stepped into the room.
“So you work for Teaching United?”
He watched me, his eyes dancing. “Sort of.”
Had I messed up? Vera had told me her grandson’s work was being recognized this evening, hadn’t she? I opened my mouth to inquire further when a voice cut me off.
“Liam!” a guy called, raising a champagne flute in salute. He started toward us, nearly bowling over a tall, lithe couple posing beside a cocktail table.
“Gordon,” Liam acknowledged, his mouth widening into a grin. He turned to me. “This is one of my coworkers.”
I nodded, stepping closer to Liam as a group passed behind me. Electricity hummed between us. I hazarded a glance at him, but his focus was on his friend. Maybe the electricity was only one-sided. Which was fine, since Liam’s heart was probably not available.
“You’ve got a speech ready, right?” Gordon asked.
“No. I was going to let Ruby handle that.”
Gordon nodded slowly, his mouth turning down at the ends.
“What do you know?” Liam asked, a weary note in his voice.
Gordon lifted his shoulders, an unconvincing confusion falling over his features.
“Gordon.”
“What?” Gordon asked. “Come on, man. If you really think she’s going to let you get away with not getting up at all, then you are in some serious denial.”
“I—” Liam stepped back, scrubbing a hand over his face, and bumped into me. I moved away, but his hand came out to clutch my wrist. “Pardon me,” he said, before turning back to Gordon. “This is Charlie. Charlie, meet my most trusted advisor.”
The tone to his title was wry, and Gordon’s face split into a grin. He reached forward to shake my hand. “So you’re the blind date? Grandma Vera didn’t do too bad.”
“Um, thanks?” I was unsure if that was meant as a compliment. “If you’ve got business to discuss, I can meet you at the table. I’ll just go find our place.”
“No,” Liam said, tightening his hold on my arm. “I am not that bad of a date, I promise. If I get called up there for a speech, I’ll wing it. That’s the best they get when I don’t have any warning.” His shoulder lifted in a casual shrug, and I envied his nonchalance. If I’d been called on to deliver a last-minute speech, I’d be fighting an anxiety attack at present. Did he see how many celebrities were here? I’d counted eight now. Eight.