The conversation remains in safe territory through dinner. As the plates are being cleared, my mother makes her way to the makeshift podium at one end of the courtyard. "I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Honore Forde, chair of the Forde Family Foundation. It is my distinct pleasure to welcome you tonight to the seventy-fourth annual debutante dinner, where we are proud to introduce this year's class of beautiful and brilliant young women."
She pauses for applause. My mother is in her element in this role, the smiling doyenne of Kansas City society, forming and shepherding the next generation of women into their rightful places. Penny's words from earlier come back to me, and for the first time, I see the scene through someone's eyes like Penny. It leaves an acrid taste in my mouth. I tune out what my mother's saying as I run through the mental math and I wonder if our foundation can be doing better.
Penny's sharp elbow jabbing into my side pulls me back in time to see my mother's outstretched hand and her expectant gaze as she motions for us to stand. "I am thrilled to present my son, Stockton, whom many of you know and love, and his fiancée, Penny Fischer."
The room erupts in applause as I rise, pulling Penny with me. But when someone in the back hollers to kiss her and it's met with a clanking of spoons on crystal, I immediately recognize this for what it is. She's calling our bluff. I lock eyes with my mother and she shoots me a cold, triumphant smile.
I see her call, and I raise her. I pull Penny close and bring my hand to her neck, thumb skimming the edge of her jaw, and I do what I should have done that night two years ago. What I've been aching to do for years. I kiss Penny with all I have.
Chapter Seven
Penny
The only warning I have is the flicker of heat that lights in Stockton's eyes as he lowers his head. I should have expected this. After all, I pushed his mother too far. Of course, she wants to call our bluff. But I'm not bluffing now.
Stockton's mouth covers mine, his lips soft yet firm. There's no question in the way he kisses. No asking of permission. Not that it needs to be asked. My answer where Stockton is concerned has always been yes. I melt into him, giving myself over to the pressure of his mouth, the heat of our legs pressed together. But it's over too soon. Even I know you can't French kiss in front of a room full of people.
My ears fill with applause and the buzzing of endorphins. I've been afraid of this moment, wanting it, yet knowing it might ruin me. I smile weakly, taking in the smolder in Stockton's eyes. A banked heat that says this is just the beginning. Which is exactly what I'm afraid of. Because if there's a beginning, there will be a middle and an end. And the prospect of the end is what terrifies me, because an end with Stockton will break me. No ifs, ands, or buts. I should have remained firm, stood my ground and quit.
To be honest, I miscalculated. Never in a million years did I think Stockton would actually give me ten-percent of his bank account. That number is simply too outrageous, at least to someone like me. He didn't even blink.
He kisses me again, gently, then smiles all the way to his eyes. The heat is still there and it sends a thrill straight to my throbbing clit. What was I thinking, agreeing to this crazy arrangement?
Stockton pulls me back to my seat, and we sit there silently, fingers entwined, eating our chocolate mousse, drinking our coffees with one hand. Once the debutantes have been introduced and Honore invites everyone to remain for dancing, the spell breaks. Across the table, Robert stands and extends a hand to Stockton. "Congratulations, son. You've caught yourself a live wire." He winks my direction as he helps Muffy from her seat.
Muffy smiles stiffly. "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other soon."
I succeed in not rolling my eyes. I have zero regrets for saying the things I did tonight. The looks on these women's faces were worth whatever hell I'll have to pay later with Honore.
"Let's go dance," says Stockton as he pulls out my chair. His hand lands at the small of my back, a hot coal that sends heat licking to my toes. At the far corner of Kirkwood Hall, a six-piece swing band has set up, complete with a crooner who could give Michael Bublé a run for his money. We make our way to the middle of the throng and Stockton turns, pulling me into his arms, moving us effortlessly in time to the music.
Fortunately, I've watched enough Dancing with the Stars on streaming video that I can at least follow without crushing his toes.
"Are you doing okay?"
"How sweet of you to ask."
He pulls back, eyeing me. "I mean it, Penny. There's a reason I spend as little time as possible at these things."
"I've faced down worse than your mother." I shudder involuntarily at the ugly memories that arise. "I can handle anything she throws my way."
"I don't doubt that. Still," his voice drifts.
"Still, what?"
"Maybe it's better if you let me handle her."
I snort. "You've been paying me to handle her for two years. I think I've got this." I pat his shoulder where I'm holding him. "I mean, did you see the look on Muffy's face? She looked like she'd swallowed a turtle."
His chest rumbles, and I decide I like being this close to him when he laughs. He spins me out then back into his embrace. "Two more songs and we can get out of here."
"Do that again," I beg. He does, and I can't help the face-splitting grin that makes my cheeks ache. Stockton is a great dancer.
"Did you take dance lessons when you were a kid?"
I snort. "Are you kidding? We barely had enough money to keep the lights on." I don't like talking about my childhood with anyone. But out here on the dance floor, when my heart feels light and Stockton's smiling at me in a way that makes my panties want to float off, I'm suddenly confessional, and the pain that typically accompanies any discussion of my pre-Steele Conglomerate days is temporarily gone.
"You're a natural."
"Thank YouTube."
A weight leaves my body. I feel light as air and... happy. This must be what happy feels like, an internal bubbling effervescence that's like champagne, only inside me. I feel like Cinderella at the ball, swirling and twirling with Prince Charming, while pushing out of her mind the knowledge that at midnight, it all goes away. The songs come to an end too quickly, and Stockton pulls me from the dance floor and out into the vestibule where he sends a text to Edward, his driver. I step away, our charade over for the time being, but Stockton pulls me back to his side, tilts my chin and kisses me again. This time, his tongue flicks across my lip, and I immediately open to him, clutching at his lapel. His tongue slides against mine with velvety precision and for a moment, I don't know where he stops and I begin. My blood turns to fire. Our breathing is ragged when he finally eases back.
"What was that for?" I ask, swaying against him.
"We're still in public, and there are people watching."
My heart sinks like a rock. "Right. Of course." I pull a smile. "Well, I'm sure that fooled them."
He keeps his arm around me and ushers me to the door. "Edward's here. Let's go."