From the corner of his eye, he watched her first grimace and then paste a determined smile on her face before turning to him. “I didn't realize you were so involved with BookSmart.”
He forced himself to hide his amusement. “Philanthropy is a hobby of mine.”
“Charity is a labor of mine.”
“Touché,” he murmured. “And how do you devote your time, Elizabeth?”
“I tutor people in English.” She sipped from her water, and then returned sweetly, “And how do you spend your money, Quentin?”
The corners of his lips lifted. “I write a check with lots of zeroes so these people,” he nodded to those around him, “can fund libraries and buy books.”
If she was surprised at his forthrightness, she didn't show it.
“I hope our newest board member is doing her best to persuade you that we do great work here, Quentin,” boomed Lloyd Manning, the President of BookSmart, from the other side of the table. “We want you to know how much we appreciate and need your help.”
“Elizabeth's made it clear I play a key role.” He shot a look at her embarrassed face. “She'll be a charming and effective fund-raiser.”
Lazarus took that opportunity to ask Elizabeth to dance. As he watched them move together across the floor, he acknowledged that she'd grown up from the shy teenager she'd been when they'd met.
His mind went back to that day and the demure eighteen-year-old with a shy and winsome smile. At least that's how she'd looked when he'd come trotting down the stairs of his parents' house and had stopped in the foyer where his mother was greeting what he took to be another of Allison's friends.
Allison made the introductions. “Liz, my brother Quentin. Back oh-so-briefly from making waves at Harvard Business School to torture his kid sister over Christmas break. He had nothing better to do.”
He looked for the first time into green eyes set in a perfect oval face. Five-seven or -eight, he guessed, with legs that went on forever beneath beige khaki shorts. She'd already been curvy then.
For sure, she would be breaking hearts among the high school boys.
That thought brought him up short. High school. This was his little sister's playmate. Annoyed with himself, he asked, “Liz? Is that short for something?”
“My name is Elizabeth. Liz is a nickname that my father gave me, and it's stuck,” she answered.
It figured she'd have a seductive voice, too. He nodded toward his sister. “Are you Allison's play date for the afternoon?”
“I think they've made it out of the playroom, Quentin,” Ava Whittaker interjected reprovingly.
“Nice to meet you, Elizabeth,” he'd said before heading out the door. Because the more formal-sounding name had seemed to provide a little protection from her attractions, he'd grasped it like a lifesaver.
He watched Elizabeth dance with Eric. Years had passed since their first meeting, but she was still wrong for him in every way. She wanted a father for her baby, and he wanted a no-strings affair. She'd been hired by Whittaker Enterprises, and he was the boss with a don't-mix-business-with-pleasure policy. She was his baby sister's best friend, while he said goodbye to lovers and moved on.
Eric's hand moved lower, dangerously close to covering Elizabeth's rear as they danced. Quentin unbent his six-foot-two frame from his chair and strode toward the couple. He could rationalize later.
Quentin clamped a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. “Sorry to cut in, Lazarus.” He steered Elizabeth away before Eric could recover. Looking down into her lovely face, he knew that sorry was the last emotion he was feeling. “You can thank me later.”
“Thank you?” Color rose to her face. “Why in the world would I thank you?”
“He was pawing you.”
“So you saved me so I could be pawed by you instead?”
He laughed. “You seemed to enjoy it last time.”
She pursed her lips. “You flatter yourself.”
He sobered a little. “Lazarus is a snake. I wouldn't take what he was offering even if he was giving it away.”
“Oh, I don't know. A freebie is hard to resist.”
His brows drew together. “Don't tell me Lazarus is a potential candidate.”
Green eyes met gray. “Okay, I won't.”
Her cool attitude irked him, but he refused to be drawn in. “Listen, Elizabeth, I don't know what your current plans are, but Lazarus is bad news.”
She sighed. “Eric's an acquaintance. I've made an appointment with a fertility clinic that also has a sperm bank.”
He should have been mollified by that, but the mention of a sperm bank set his teeth on edge again. He needed to steer the conversation to safer territory and figured now was as good a time to apologize as any.
He cleared his throat. “I apologize for what I said on Friday night. I jumped to conclusions. Noah set me straight.” He was not going to apologize for the kiss. It wouldn't have rung true anyway.
She'd been looking over his shoulder, but now her eyes jumped back to his. She looked startled, but then seemed to collect herself. “I—”
He cocked his head to the side. “—accept my apology?” he finished for her, when she seemed at a loss.
She nodded and a small smile played at her lips. “Yes.”
He felt relief wash over him, and wondered why her response had been so important to him. “Let's start over.”
She nodded, seeming to accept his offer to wipe the slate clean. “I'm sorry I was so rude earlier.”
He shrugged. “No offense taken. You had a right to be ticked off at me. Anyway, money is my contribution. I'm too busy to volunteer much time. The fact that you're able to is impressive.”
They lapsed into silence then, swaying to some Big Band tune as he guided her across the floor. She felt good in his arms, just relaxed enough to be guided by the subtle pressure of his hand on her lower back.
He enjoyed holding her like this, her body lightly brushing his as they danced. She was close enough that he could breathe in the soft, flowery scent of her. Close enough that he could, if he wanted to, brush his lips across her temple and the curling wisps of hair lying there.
“You dance well,” he commented.
“You're surprised.”
He thought for a second. “No,” he said slowly. “It was just an observation. I knew you'd dance well. It fits with the overall package.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
His lips itched. “You're magnolias and cream with afternoon tea on the verandah.” His voice dipped. “Lace and white roses. Incense with delicate spice. A Victorian lady in a rock 'n' roll age.”