Out of Her League (14 page)

He’d just settled back onto the center of
the dais when Robby breezed into the room. He took one look at Lachlan and
turned for Michaela, rolling his eyes as he took a seat next to her.

“You’re looking flushed with good…health,
princess.”

She grinned.

Lachlan muffled his chuckle with a cough as
he pulled on the jacket.

They turned to look at Lachlan, and Robby’s
hand shot out and curled around her wrist. For a moment, all either of them
could do was stare. Lachlan stood under the bright lights, his partially
buttoned shirt gaping to reveal just a tantalizing hint of his muscled chest, one
nipple peeking out when he twisted to look at the cut of the trousers, which
was exquisite. They sat perfectly on his hips and across his flat belly, his firm,
round ass framed beautifully without being too obvious. It was all the more
sexy for his bare feet and hands, his strong wrists exposed by the open sleeves,
his face still flushed, his hair in disarray.

Honestly, he was sexy as fuck.

“Do you have any studs I can borrow?” he
asked Robby absently, his voice a thick rasp and completely different than it
had been before Robby had left the room. Lachlan’s eyes widened in horror.

Michaela barely suppressed a giggle and
Robby gave her a long, proud look. He leaned closer and whispered, “I was just
about to ask you the same thing.”

The giggle escaped. God, she really had
missed him.

He was on his feet and over to help
Lachlan, pulling studs and cuff links from his pocket, before Michaela could
explain that Lachlan wasn’t really her stud. Or her anything else. He was just
sort of…on loan until the disaster that was her life finally got too wearisome
for him.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, so she
focused instead on pouring herself more tea and settling back to watch Robby harass
Lachlan through deciding on the right shirt, pant cuff, and cut through the
waist of his jacket.

She didn’t intercede until it came to
price, at which point Robby named a sum that made Lachlan blanch. Michaela rolled
her eyes and talked Robby down to almost half of what he’d first proposed.

They were still haggling over the details
while Lachlan dressed in his own clothes and as they walked to the front door. “You’re
a shrew,” Robby declared after accepting her final counteroffer.

“Well, you didn’t think I’d changed, did
you?”

Robby smiled. “I’d hoped not, anyway.”

Michaela hugged him. Fiercely. And he held
her just as tight. It felt as though she’d found a piece of herself she’d long
ago convinced herself she wasn’t missing. Now that piece had slotted home, and
she was overwhelmingly comforted to have it back.

“I’m so glad you came,” he said into her
shoulder.

“I am, too.”

Lachlan hooked his finger into the heavily
starched collar of his brand-new tuxedo, trying to loosen the noose around his
neck without dislodging his tie. Michaela watched him, amused, from where she
sat beside him in the back of the town car.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, for at least
the fifteenth time that night.

Easy for her to say. When he’d knocked on
her door a few minutes ago, he’d been rendered speechless, though at least this
time it was just the normal reaction any man would have to feeling like he’d
been punched in the face by her beauty.

She wore a long, dark pink gown, the
neckline somehow accentuating her full breasts and slim shoulders while still
managing to hide the hickey he’d left behind a few days ago. Which was good for
a lot of reasons, but particularly since she had her hair piled on her head in
an intricate twist with a few soft curls left loose to brush her shoulders, drawing
the eye to the length of her neck and perfect, bitable curve of her jaw.

Lachlan expected she’d be the center of
attention the entire night. He was starting to give serious consideration to how
bad it would be if he threw up on his own shoes in the middle of the party.

“Shouldn’t we have practiced or something?”
he said weakly.

“I already told you, the most important
thing to do is to keep your eyes open and a smile on your face. There will be a
lot of photographers there, and you don’t want to look like you’ve suffered a
significant head injury in the pictures.”

“Right. Head up, smile on, don’t blink,” he
repeated.

“If it doesn’t seem like it’s the time to
smile, then try to look serene.”

“Serene?” he asked incredulously, panic
rising. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Okay. How about interested? Intrigued. When
people are talking, look at them and nod like they’re saying the most
interesting thing you’ve ever heard. I’m sure you’ve been to a few work
functions where someone was going on about something and you had to pretend you
weren’t bored out of your skull. Just like in those cases, in all likelihood, you
won’t have to say anything. I promise I’ll be close by, so if you feel freaked
out, or can’t speak when you think you should, touch my arm.”

He was going to spend the whole night
clinging to her like a limpet.

Michaela smiled, an encouraging hand on his
arm. “A lot of these people aren’t going to hit your hot buttons, I promise.”

Lachlan frowned. “I don’t have hot buttons,
whatever that means.”

“You really do. But there’s going to be
lots of older people, in couples. You focus on them and I’ll field the rest if
you don’t feel up to it.”

“But what if I—”

“Look at me,” she said sternly. He did.
“Now smile—
ack
, okay, take it easy there. You don’t want to look like a super
happy serial killer.”

Lachlan’s smile dimmed considerably. “I’m
screwed.”

“No, like that, that’s better. But maybe
try to be less worried around the eyebrows and forehead.”

“We definitely should have practiced.”

Michaela just laughed. “You’re going to be
fine.”

The car pulled up in front of the hotel and
Lachlan stared out the window in horror at the sheer number of cameras pointed
in their direction.

A doorman approached.

“Smile,”
Michaela ordered a moment before the door opened.

Lachlan plastered a smile on his face. It
was the same one he used for the eternal hell that was Parent’s Weekend on
campus. He climbed from the car, catching himself before he blinked against the
flashbulbs exploding in his face.

Jesus Christ, this was crazy.

He turned to offer Michaela his hand,
grateful to have a moment to stare into the dim interior of the car. She held
on reassuringly tightly and rose gracefully to stand beside him.

He’d thought the flashes were bad before? Lachlan
wasn’t sure if this was the red carpet or the apocalypse. His retinas were
screaming for relief.

Michaela released his hand and he held out
his elbow for her to thread her arm through. Her smile was wide, for all the
world appearing as if she was absolutely thrilled to be there. Hopefully, no
one would notice she was practically dragging him into the party.

The forty feet to the front door were the
longest of his life.

The lobby was opulent—and blessedly devoid
of cameras—but nothing compared to the ballroom. He was relieved to see other
people standing just inside the door, gawping at the scene before them.
Clearly, he wasn’t the only newbie to this shit. And, unlike some people, he
really didn’t give a crap about the sheer wealth oozing from every corner.

“Now what?” he asked, putting his hand low
on her bare back. The feel of her soft, warm skin grounded him.

“Now we mingle.”

He looked down at Michaela with a wide
smile. “I hate you.”

“I know you do, honey,” she said, patting
his arm. “But you’ll thank me later.”

“I’m pretty sure I won’t,” he said in a low
voice. He glanced up over her shoulder, almost equal in height to his own in
the high heels she wore under her long gown. He found several pairs of eyes
staring at them, at
her
, and he didn’t like the looks on their faces at
all.

How did these people not see that she was
the most beautiful woman in the room? And that it had nothing to do with how
she looked or what she wore? She was kind. Generous. Vulnerable, like everyone else
here with a good heart. And they would condemn her for some thoughtless bastard’s
cruel revenge. All she’d done was have sex, which he felt confident everyone
currently casting looks in their directions had done as well at least once.

A particularly gaunt and angry-looking
older woman caught his gaze and frowned, honest-to-god tipping her nose in the
air before pointedly turning away.

Okay, he wouldn’t be surprised if
that
lady had never had sex.

He could feel his anger rising and decided
the best course of action would be to spend the rest of the night looking at
Michaela and ignoring everyone else. It wasn’t like it would be a hardship.

“Do we start with people you know?” he
asked.

“Oh, I don’t know anyone here, I don’t think,”
she said blithely.

“You
what
? Why are we even here if
you don’t know anyone? Who invited you?”

Michaela laughed, like he’d said something
funny. It wasn’t funny. The room suddenly felt even more like enemy territory.
He wanted to grab her hand and run, to drag her out of there and go somewhere
safe, where she’d be appreciated.

A man’s voice boomed from halfway across
the ballroom. “Lachlan!”

Lachlan jumped, his eyes widening in shock.

“Apparently, you’ll be in charge of
introductions tonight,” Michaela said with a twinkle in her eyes.

Lachlan must have looked as terrified by
the idea as he felt.

“Smile,” whispered Michaela as they turned
toward the silver-haired gentleman threading his way through the tables toward
them.

A wave of relief crashed over Lachlan. “Seamus!”

Lachlan put his hand out, and let out an
oomph
of surprise when Seamus ignored it and yanked him into a hard hug instead.

He was still trying to smile and keep his
eyes open, mindful of the discreet photographers circulating the room, but it
was hard when all he could focus on was the sea of faces watching them. Everyone
in the room seemed to have turned to look at Seamus’s shout. Lachlan glanced at
Michaela to see what she thought of all this, and found her staring at him with
a crooked grin and something like wonder.

“Is that Seamus Lynch?”
she mouthed silently.

Lachlan nodded, and stepped back when
Seamus deigned to release him.

“Son, I can’t lie. I’m surprised to see you
here,” Seamus said with a wide smile.

“You and me both,” Lachlan said under his
breath, which made Seamus chuckle and gave Lachlan a moment to remember his
manners. “Seamus, allow me to present Michaela Price. She is a friend of the
family. Michaela, this is Seamus Lynch. He is…quite dear to my sister and her meehh…Garrick
and Rhian.”

Michaela smiled at Lachlan’s stumble, but
kept her eyes on Seamus.

He studied her right back. “Ms. Price, it’s
a pleasure. You are even lovelier in person.”

Lachlan’s smile went tight. Did Seamus read
those trashy magazines? God, had
he
seen the video? Lachlan had no doubt
all the people staring at them were wondering the same thing. Honestly, some of
these people were being blatantly fucking rude. How did she put up with this
shit?

“Thank you, Mr. Lynch. It’s an honor to
meet you,” Michaela replied smoothly. “You’ve done tremendous work here.”

“Here?” Lachlan asked, distracted from their
audience.

Seamus waved a hand at the room. “I host
this every year to raise money for the Children’s Hospital,” he explained
before turning back to Michaela. “You must call me Seamus, dear. If you’re a
friend of the Morrisons, then you’re a friend to me.”

Seamus kept a firm hold of her hand when
she tried to pull it back, his expression determined. For a moment he and
Michaela just stared at one another.

Lachlan didn’t understand what was
happening, or why Michaela looked surprised.

She cleared her throat. “That’s very kind
of you,” she said, and for the life of him, Lachlan couldn’t figure out why she
looked so puzzled.

Seamus leaned in, tugging Michaela closer
and tilting his head to indicate Lachlan should, too. “Bunch of judgmental old
biddies here tonight,” he whispered. “Frightful, the lot of them. As if their
reputations are so sterling. I don’t even dare invite Rhian, Savannah, and
Garrick.”

Michaela smiled gamely. “Next time you
must. Just sit them with me—I adore their company, and no reputation can fail
to shine next to my tarnish.”

Lachlan jerked upright, scowling, but fuck
it if he could hold on to a smile when she said shit like that. Michaela’s
voluminous skirts twitched a nanosecond before a pointy toe made contact with
his shin.

Lachlan dutifully slapped on a smile and continued
to dream of murdering every single person in the room giving them side-eyes.

“Michaela,” Seamus said sternly, “I don’t
tolerate that kind of talk about or from my grandchildren, and I won’t hear
from you either.” He held her gaze until her chin dipped in acknowledgment.
Then he continued in a louder voice. “If anyone here doesn’t like who I choose
to spend my time with, then they won’t get an invitation next year.”

Everyone within a twenty foot radius
shifted, and suddenly, miraculously, their faces were wreathed in smiles.

Seamus nodded in satisfaction. Lachlan
looked at him with awe—damn, he was a wily old goat.

“Now, come,” Seamus said, tucking
Michaela’s hand around his elbow and anchoring her to his side. “I will have
things rearranged so that you can sit at my table with me. I apologize that I
hadn’t realized you were coming when the Price Foundation reserved their seats.”

They sailed across the room, Lachlan trailing
in their wake, watching in fascination as the crowd parted like the Red Sea.

Michaela was confused. She smiled and
nodded and spoke to all the people she’d come here to meet and speak with on
behalf of the Foundation, certain that no one, except possibly Lachlan, had any
idea something was off.

The whole time, a single thought ran
through her head on repeat:
What the fuck?

She was distracted enough that she almost
lost Lachlan to panic twice, but managed to drag him back from the edge both
times. She would probably have bruises on her arm from how hard he grabbed her
when an octogenarian widow groped his ass, but otherwise, he was doing great.

She, on the other hand, was twitching with
the need to get answers. To do that, though, she had to get Lachlan alone.

The dinner and speeches took another hour,
followed by Seamus plunging the entire ballroom into a stunned hush by leading
her out onto the spot-lit parquet floor for the first dance. Even
she
couldn’t
believe he was doing it, and he’d warned her first—and completely ignored her
protests that it wasn’t necessary.

Then finally,
finally
, the dancing
was in full-swing and she managed to get Lachlan and herself tucked into a
quiet corner of the ballroom.

“You’re friends with
Seamus
Lynch?
”

Lachlan chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I am. He’s
a great guy.”

“A great guy,” she repeated numbly.
“Lachlan, have you not noticed that almost everyone in this room is either in
awe or scared witless of him?”

“Really?” he said, looking around the room
as if he might find someone cowering under a table. “But he’s so sweet.”

“
Sweet
?”

“Well, yeah.”

“How do you even know him? Is he friends
with your parents?” she asked.

“No,” Lachlan said, then drew her closer,
too close. His lips brushed her cheek as he spoke. Michaela was acutely aware
of a flash going off nearby, but was too interested to hear whatever Lachlan
wanted to tell her to move back to a more respectable distance. “You can’t tell
anyone, but I have permission to tell you. He’s Rhian’s grandfather.”

Michaela cocked her head to look at him,
but kept her voice well below the sound of the orchestra. “Seamus Lynch is
Rhian Savage’s grandfather?” She racked her brain for anything she could
remember about the Lynch family, and that just didn’t make sense.

“It’s a long story. One I’ll tell you another
time, but suffice it to say, he considers Garrick and Savannah, and,
apparently,
me
, to be family.”

“Wow,” she said softly. “Well, that
explains it, I guess.”

“Explains what?” Lachlan said impatiently.
“You’ve been acting like this entire night has been a surprise. I thought that
was my role.”