BOOK 1

“The dress had about twenty pounds of beads on it,” she said in further explanation.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, and funny enough she knew he meant it. “I’m afraid I didn’t have time to go out and choose the dress myself, and all my assistant told me about it was that it was black.”

“Don’t apologize.” Her reaction to his sincerity softened her voice. “As I said, it was a very kind thing fpr you to do, but it just wasn’t necessary.”

In the end she’d gone home empty-handed from her sister’s and delved into her own closet. The dress she’d ultimately decided to wear was very simple, very light. There was a silk strapless underdress of mist blue, then a one-shouldered overdress made out of sheer silk chiffon in the water colors of mauves, greens, and blues. A graceful, floating dress, its skirt fell to an asymmetrical hem, on one side cascading downward in uneven gossamer layers to her feet, the other side stopping at her knees. A handful of blue sequins resembling glistening drops of water were randomly scattered over the dress. A pair of high-heeled silver sandals and a silver slide to hold her long hair back completed the ensemble.

His gaze dropped to scan the bodice, then returned to her face. “You look beautiful and your dress is exquisite. In fact, there’s no one here who can touch the way you look tonight.”

Warmth flooded up beneath her skin to her face. “That’s quite a compliment, considering your three female cousins are here, plus quite a few Damaron wives.” She’d already met most of them and had hked them very much.

“I wouldn’t say it unless it was true.”

The thing was, she believed him, and she was all the more flustered that she did. Restless beneath his scrutiny, she absently fingered the skirt of the dress. It was so famihar to her. The fabric, its fit, the graceful way it hung on her, the happy memories it held—it was like wearing the comfort of an old friend, which she supposed was ultimately why she chose it.

“Besides,” he continued, “ninety percent of the women here tonight are wearing black. The ball is in imminent danger of resembling a convocation of crows—with you as the only bluebird,” he finished softly.

“Water sprite, actually.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This was my costume when I danced the role of Ondine.”

“You as a water sprite?” He stared at her for a moment. “Yes,” he said slowly. “There is a poetry about you.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, again unprepared for the honesty of his compliment. “Actually, I would normally wear the dress over a leotard, but for the ball, I decided to make an underdress instead.”

“You made it?”

She laughed again, this time at his surprise. “I love to sew. And most of the time it’s cheaper to make the costumes my students wear in our productions.”

A man she’d met when they first arrived came up and whispered something in Nathan’s ear. She’d met so many people already that evening that she couldn’t remember his name, but he’d been doing the same thing on and off all evening. Mentally she’d pegged him as Nathan’s aide-de-camp. The man moved away and Nathan looked back at her. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to go to work in a minute. Come with me. I have to make a little speech, but that won’t take long. Afterward I’ll be forced to mingle and I’m not very good at it.”

She smiled. “I don’t believe that for a minute. Besides, I was thinking of going to the ladies’ room. Do you know where it is?” Even though she was enjoying herself immensely, she was more than ready for a break from him. The full strength of his attention required her to be on her toes at all times.

When her gaze followed the direction where he pointed, she saw an older woman sitting at a table, seemingly isolated, though every seat at the table was occupied. “Who is that lady? She’s been watching me off and on tonight.” Unlike the other women at her table, the woman in question was wearing lavender, a color that didn’t suit her at all.

“That’s Helene Sorge. She’s the widow of the steel magnate Horace Sorge.”

The name meant nothing to her, but she didn’t have to be told to know that Helene Sorge was a formidable woman. Her posture was excruciatingly correct, her demeanor stiff, and there was something about her that plainly said she didn’t suffer fools gladly. “She looks lonely.”

He grinned and her attention was drawn back to him. Involuntarily her gaze fastened on his lips and the memory of the way they had kissed on the quay several nights before came rushing back to her. Warmth stirred in her and she wondered if tonight he would kiss her again. And if so, would it be as wonderful as that first kiss had been?

“That’s certainly an interesting take on Helene,” he said. “The two women on either side of her are her best friends.”

“But they’re ignoring her.”

“It’s more like she’s ignoring them. She doesn’t encourage familiarity. She’s always been that way, but it’s gotten worse the last year. A little over a year ago her daughter and son-in-law were killed in a car accident and her granddaughter was severely hurt.”

“How awful. Maybe that’s why she looks as if she’s closed in on herself.”

“You have a very unique way of seeing people. However, in my experience, Helene Sorge is simply a very hard woman to get along with. I’ve seen her snap the head off a person simply because the person dared to try to talk to her. She comes to things like this because she sees it as her duty to carry on the charity endeavors that her husband considered important when he was alive. But at the same time she lets it be known she hates being at events like this. God forbid she should enjoy herself.”

“That’s a shame,” she murmured, trying to concentrate on what he was saying, rather than on the question of whether or not he would kiss her before die night was over. “Life is too short for a person to be that unhappy.”

“I agree. And she’s enormously wealthy, but she’s cheap, just as her husband was. Horace died twelve years ago, yet she still continues to write checks for the measly amount he was giving when he died, with no thought to inflation. When one of us tries to contact her about it, she always cuts us off.” He shrugged. “We’ve found it easier to give her a wide berth.”

“Why do you think she’s been staring at me?”

“I’m not sure except what I said before.” His eyes softened on her. “You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight.”

His compliments were overwhelming. His low, husky voice was playing her nerves as if they were an instrument. His intimately possessive body language had her melting inside. Suddenly he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ve got to go. When you get back from the ladies’ room, come find me.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “So I can continue blocking all those debutantes and socialites who are constantly throwing themselves at you?”

She’d seen a few women send longing glances his way. In fact, she’d been embarrassed for them because of the naked emotion in their expressions. There was no doubt about it—Nathan was definitely a man who inspired passion of all kinds in women. So far, though, no one had had to be peeled off him. It was something she sincerely regretted, since she was planning to leave him to his own devices for the kick of seeing how he got himself out of it.

He smiled wryly. “The women take one look at you and give up. I knew you’d be great at blocking them.”

She laughed, deciding not to believe all his com-phments. It was easier on her that way, because he was getting to her. In subtle, indefinable ways, he was definitely getting to her.

Dani lingered in the lounge area of the ladies’ room, pretending to check her makeup and correct a nonexistent flaw in her mascara. But in reality, she was giving herself a respite from the high energy of the crowd. She engaged in idle conversation with several women and quite a few stopped to compliment her on her dress.

Some of their compliments were sincere. Some weren’t. But without exception, the underlying thread in all their conversations had been curiosity about her. Obviously the word had gotten around that Nathan Damaron had brought someone new to the ball.

She could see how it might be disconcerting to them. Since they didn’t know her, or how she and Nathan had met, or even how long they’d known each other, they couldn’t satisfactorily slot her into a category, such as serious contender or casual fling. And she didn’t help them. Instead, she chose to keep her own counsel and to simply say thank you for the compliments.

Because she didn’t know any of them, she couldn’t say for certain whether or not she would have at anything in common with them, but she led a very low-key life. Chances were excellent she would never see them again.

When she returned to the ballroom, she saw the Damaron family on the stage, taking turns speaking about their hopes and plans for the new children’s wing for the hospital. Since they were behind the project, she had no doubt the wing would become a reality. Listening to them and hearing their dedication to bringing this new state-of-the-art facility into being made her happy that she’d come. The hospital was a cause she could get behind—not actively—but she did plan to write a small check and send it in.

As she stood in the back, listening, her eyes wandered the crowd, and once again the older woman caught her attention. Helene Sorge’s gaze was on the stage, but Dani had the feeling the woman wasn’t really hearing anything.

Nathan had said that giving the woman a wide berth was best, but during the evening her gaze had gone back to her more than once. For one thing, she’d caught Helene staring at her every now and then. But the real reason she foimd the woman compelling was that she saw loneliness in her when apparently others around her saw only a rude, self-sufficient woman.

The chair beside Helene was empty, and on impulse she went over and sat down. “Good evening, Mrs. Sorge,” she said sofdy. “I’m Danielle Savourat.”

At the sound of her voice, the woman started, then turned toward her and pinned her with an icy gaze. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m Danielle Savourat, and Nathan Damaron told me you are Helene Sorge.”

The woman’s brows shot up. “Did I inadvertently do something that in any way led you to believe I would welcome your company?”

“No, but—”

“Good. Then please leave me alone.” She had a foghomlike voice that she made no attempt to soften.

“Mrs. Sorge, I saw you staring at me several times this evening and was wondering why.”

Her eyes narrowed on her. “I told you to leave me alone. Exacdy what word didn’t you understand?”

Her loud voice carried and more than one person turned around to see who had been stupid enough to awaken the sleeping bear. “I understood all of the words—thank you for asking. I simply thought you looked alone and I—”

The angry look the woman gave her startled and silenced Dani. Rudeness was one thing, she reflected, but why would the woman be angry that someone had taken the time to speak with her? She supposed Helene Sorge was accustomed to people doing exactly as she said and that no doubt would include not approaching her without her permission.

Sorge’s cold-eyed gaze quickly ran over her. “And what in the world are you wearing? It looks like a ballet costume for Ondine."

She was the first person tonight to know what her dress was. Dani ventured a tentative smile. “That’s because it is.”

“Why on earth would you wear a ballet costume to a charity ball?”

“Because it was all I could find to wear that was comfortable.”

"Comfortable?" She harrumphed. “Whatever gave you the idea that you were supposed to be comfortable at one of these things?”

“I'm afraid I didn’t know there was some sort of dress code about discomfort. I've always believed it was more important to be comfortable, especially when one is going to be in a situation where emotionally one might not be particularly at ease. Beyond that, why should you spend one minute of your life in discomfort if you don’t have to?”

“What an odd little thing you are.” Helene paused. “So you’re a ballerina.”

“I used to be, but I was injured, and now I'm a ballet teacher.”

Interest flitted in and out of the older woman’s expression. “How badly were you injured?”

She hadn’t been prepared for Helene to actually show interest in her. She’d merely seen a lonely woman who, in her opinion, needed a little distraction from unhappy thoughts. She’d simply decided to see if she could get her to talk. Now that Helene had, Dani had no one to blame but herself. Once again, her impulses had engaged before her brain.

“I had quite a few broken bones, along with several other serious problems. Both of my legs were broken. 'They healed well, but slowly. Still, with a more extensive and rigorous program of physical therapy', I’m convinced I could have returned to the dance full-time. In the end, however, I decided not to.”

“Why not?” The question came out as an attack. “Wasn’t your dedication strong enough?”

“My dedication was never in question. Ballet has always been my life, but the accident . . . that is, the injuries changed me in a lot of ways. It made me see life differently and I realized I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.”

“What did you finally decide?” Helene asked, her voice no longer like a foghorn at full volume.