“Right.” He held it up, and she slid her arms inside. When she turned around and faced him, he caught the lapels of her coat and smiled. “Ready?”

She nodded once and let out a breath. “Yep. Let’s do this.”

He offered his arm, and she took it. As they walked down the stairs of her brownstone, his driver opened the door. She smiled at him and slid inside, and Benjamin followed her. The second the door closed behind him, she sagged against the seat. The short ride to The Frick passed quickly, and in a few minutes, they were parked at the curb outside the hotspot.

Maggie sat up straight and pressed a hand to her stomach, turning green. “Oh God. We’re here.”

He reached for the door handle.

“Wait!” She pressed her hand even firmer against her stomach. “I’m allergic to shellfish. And I’m an only child. My roommate’s name is Becca. And my parents—”

“—Are farmers in South Dakota. You have a black cat back home, who you rescued from an alley, and he hides when people come over so I’ll probably never see him. His name is Lucifer. You also love the Yankees and the Giants, hate the Mets and the Jets, and you like long walks in a light, misting, rain.” He cupped her cheek tenderly, smiling down at her reassuringly. “We’ve got this, darling.”

She played with her seat belt, her fingers skittering over it nonstop. “You actually paid attention to all of that?”

“Of course I did. I want to learn everything about you, because I’m greedy when it comes to you. I won’t pretend otherwise.” He smoothed his thumb over her lower lip. “If you’re talking? I’m listening. We’ve got this. There’s nothing to worry about.”

She straightened and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Sir?” The door opened, and his driver glanced down. “Madam?”

“Thank you, Jeff.” He got out of the car and held his hand out. “Darling?”

She slid her hand into his. Her fingers didn’t tremble.

There was a bit of a crowd checking their coats and greeting each other, but he didn’t see his mother, so Maggie would be spared her company, at least for a little while. “She’s not here yet.”

“Good. I could use a drink or ten before taking her on.” She pressed against his arm, her soft curves taunting him. “Think she upped her trash talk game yet? Or will she call me a ‘lady of the night’ again?”

He choked on a laugh, but managed to hold it back successfully. “I doubt she’s ever actually uttered the word ‘whore,’ so I’d expect her trash talk to remain lame.”

“Figures,” Maggie muttered, checking out the hall. She held his arm tighter, hopping up and down excitedly. “Holy crap, is that a Kennedy over there? He’s got the eyes and the hair.”

He helped her out of her jacket. “Hmm? Where?”

“Over there.” She shrugged free. “The short guy in black, next to the tall woman in black.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed fully this time. “You realize that you just described everyone in the room, right?”

She shot him a frown over her shoulder. “That can’t be true. Look—” She broke off, glanced around the room, and then down at her own gown, which was delightfully red. “Wait. Was I supposed to wear black? If so, I obviously missed the memo.”

The red dress wasn’t why she stood out in the crowd. She stood out because she was kind, gorgeous, and her laugh could light up an underground prison cell. “That’s because there wasn’t one. They’re all dull, while you’re full of life.”

“But still.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Should I wear black next time?”

“Don’t change a thing.” He tipped her chin up. “I like you just the way you are.”

A small smile slid into place. “You do?”

“I do.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, brushing his mouth across hers in a short, sweet kiss. They were putting on a show for other people now, so he finally had an excuse to touch her. He damn well planned to enjoy it while it lasted. The taste of her remained after he pulled away, and it teased him, made him crave more instantly.

He had a feeling if he let himself, he could easily get addicted to her intoxicating taste. And not just that, but the way she made him laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed at one of these boring affairs, yet he’d already done so twice tonight…

And they weren’t even in the door yet.

“People were watching, so I figured it was a good time for a kiss,” he whispered in her ear. Her fingers flexed on him, and she shivered. “For show only, of course.”

“Y-Yes. Good thinking. We’ll have to do that a lot tonight.” She backed up a step. “I, uh, I see the bar, so I’m gonna get us some drinks while you check our coats. You want an old-fashioned?”

He cocked a brow. “Dare I ask how you found out I like those, darling?”

“Research,” she said, twisting her purse. “Always research.”

Spinning on her heel, she headed for the bar, looking every inch a regal princess amongst her peers. He watched her go, clasping the coats so tight his hands ached.

“Why, if it isn’t Benjamin Gale the third,” someone exclaimed from behind him. “It’s been so long.”

He stiffened. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was his latest ex—the one his mother had wanted him to marry. He’d refused because she reminded him of his mother. And he sure as hell didn’t want to marry his mother. He’d rather marry Ivan the Terrible.

Forcing a pleasant expression even though the sound of her talking made him nauseated, he turned around. “Elizabeth. How wonderful to see you.”

“I know.” She beamed and rested a hand on his arm. Even her smile was icy. “Are you here alone, too? Oh, thank God. I have no one to dance with tonight, so this is perfect.”

“Actually, I—”

“When your mother told me to come, and that you’d mentioned wanting to see me again, I didn’t believe her. But now I’m here, and you’re here, and this couldn’t be more perfect.” She rose up on tiptoe and pressed her cold lips to his cheek. “I’ve missed you, too. But you dreadfully need to shave.”

He shook off her words. “My mother told you I missed you?”

“I did,” his mother said from behind him. “I’m sorry if I betrayed your confidence, but I couldn’t let it go. Not when you two are so well suited for one another.”

“You couldn’t be more right, Helen.” Elizabeth curled her hand around his arm, clinging tightly and smiling at his mother. “We make a great couple. I’ve always thought so.”

She pressed her slim frame against him as if to remind him what it felt like to be up close and intimate with her. He knew perfectly well how she felt—wrong.

She wasn’t Maggie.

Chapter Ten

Maggie navigated the crowded hall slowly, watching the drinks in her hand cautiously. She’d opted for red wine, while getting Benji his old-fashioned. She smiled when she remembered his reaction when she’d asked him if he’d like one. The last time she’d gone to his penthouse, she’d talked to William for a few minutes. He was all too willing to impart information about his boss.

And she was all too willing to listen.

When it came to her fiancé, she was insatiable in her quest for knowledge. Despite all the romantic travesties in her past, and the fact that this whole affair would more than likely end in a disaster, she was going to give this a try.

She was going to give herself to Benji…

And stupidly hope for the best.

Someone bumped into her, but she managed to miraculously keep both drinks firmly in hand. She let out a sigh of relief and glanced up. It was the man she’d been watching earlier—and he was staring at her boobs. Not a Kennedy, then. Everyone knew they were ass men. “Sorry, Miss…?”

She did a little curtsy thing, since it was the best she could manage with full hands, and scanned the room, looking for Benjamin. She couldn’t find him through the crowd. “Donovan. Maggie Donovan.”