Part 79 (1/2)

Dax was out of his seat and charging in her direction.

He didn't even know she was coming in ours.

I looked to Josette.

She felt my regard and looked to me.

I smiled.

She let out a giggle.

”Are you all right?”

At his rumble, my attention returned to five feet away where Dax had one hand (now unnecessarily) on her waist steadying her, the other one held her clutch, which he'd clearly collected on his way.

Circe had her head tipped back, staring up at him, wide-eyed with lips parted, taking the clutch from him and doing this like her hand was moving through mola.s.ses.

Enchanting.

However, in his care, Dax misinterpreted her look for he moved into her protectively, bent his neck and cast his concerned gaze down to her feet, asking, ”Did you twist an ankle? Are you hurt?”

Circe stared mutely at his profile.

He looked again to her.

”Do you need some ice?” he queried.

She remained silent, staring at him.

Then, suddenly, she appeared to get visibly woozy, her torso swaying gracefully (if a bit drunkenly) and in order not to collapse at his feet, she lifted a hand and placed it on his biceps.

At her touch, they both froze.

In fact, it felt like the entirety of the room froze.

I held my breath.

They gazed into each other's eyes.

Circe started swaying again.

This time...

Forward.

I felt my lips curl up in what I knew was undisguised glee.

I barely heard Dax's next.

But I heard it.

”Honey,” he whispered, a teasing lilt to his deep voice, most a.s.suredly a man who knew his effect on women, and right then most a.s.suredly pleased he was having that effect on Circe. ”You need to speak.”

”You're...” Circe trailed off but began again. ”You are...”

Not taking his one hand from her waist, Dax lifted his other in the (minimal) s.p.a.ce between them, an offer for her to take it in greeting.

”Dax Lahn,” he introduced at the same exact time she breathed, ”Mine.”

I saw his very broad shoulders straighten with surprise at her a.s.sertion.

Then I saw the color drain from her face.

”s.h.i.+t, f.u.c.k, f.u.c.k,” Noc bit out low, the vicinity of his voice telling me he was standing behind my chair.

”I'm sorry,” Circe said, swaying again.

This time back.

Drat!

”So, so sorry. So...very...sorry,” she chanted, her cheeks now flaming.

She took a hasty step away out of Dax's hold, glanced at our table and then turned on her attractive champagne-colored, spike-heeled sandal and dashed gracefully (thank the G.o.ddess Adele, no trips, or worse, falls) out of the restaurant.

Drat!

I quickly pushed back my chair, aiming it away from Noc who was still standing behind me. I rose and darted after her.

”Frannie,” Noc called on a clip.

”Do you know her?” Dax asked as I pa.s.sed him.

I kept darting even as I looked over my shoulder and a.s.sured, ”Give me but a moment. We'll be back.”

I only caught half a glance at Noc, and seeing in that scant second his expression, I had a feeling he might also offer spankings for other reasons.

I couldn't think of that.

I had to get to Circe, calm her down and then get her to our table, smooth things out and do what clearly would be minimal work at finis.h.i.+ng making a match.

I made it through the seating area, the bar, the reception and out the front door.

I looked right.

No Circe.

I looked left and saw her rolling up on her toes with impatience as she shouted after the black-short-pants-white-s.h.i.+rt-wearing fellow who took Noc's SUV when we'd arrived and drove it away (Noc's explanation: a ”valet”).

”Please hurry!” I heard her cry after him. ”It's an emergency!”