Page 2 of Only For Him

“It’s a term of endearment.”

“I don’t like you. I don’t feel any kind of feeling like that toward you.”

He leaned closer, and she curled her fingers into her palm. It was the only way she could keep herself from smacking the jerk. He had his teeth capped. She was pretty sure of it. If they lost electricity, he could illuminate the entire room. He looked like Matt Dillon inThere’s Something About Mary.

“You’re not still mad at me because of high school, are you?”

Trevor had been one of the worst of her tormentors. She had been beyond awkward in high school. Prep school jerks like him didn’t appreciate her brand of quirkiness.

Who named their kids Trevor anymore? Sure, if he was an English lord or something, but a conservative senator, that was wrong.

“No. I just don’t like you.”

He chucked her under the chin. “You don’t know me.”

“Oh, but I do. And even if I didn’t, I’m not interested in a man who uses more dye on his hair than I do.”

He looked upset. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

She opened her mouth to respond but felt someone trail a finger down her bare arm. Without looking, she knew who it was. Heat simmered inside of her, and suddenly she felt breathless.

Vic.

Not tonight. She couldn’t deal with him seeing her deal with Trevor the Twit.

“Having a problem, Addison?” Vic asked, his whisky voice dancing over her nerve endings. The man had her hot just by asking her a question.

It didn’t matter that he used her proper name—which she hated. He knew it irritated her, but it also made her gooey inside. No one called her Addison. It was as if it was a pet name, which was silly because she hated it. But, with that flat Maine accent of his, she turned to butter when he said it.

“Nope, no problem here, Vic.”

He slipped his arm around her waist as if he owned her. Her skin prickled. Dammit, why did it feel right? She felt out of control whenever he touched her, as if she wanted to run away screaming, but there was always this rightness. Like he was supposed to be doing it.

Then, Addy noticed that Trevor had gone pale.

“Uh…I think I see someone I know.”

Then the bastard abandoned her. Okay, she didn’t like him to begin with, but dammit, he could have stuck around. With a sigh, she finally looked up at Vic. Big mistake. The man had to be the prettiest male human she had ever seen.

“What are you doing here?”

He smiled at her, and her heart did a little tap dance. Dammit.

“I think I was saving you from pretty boy there.”

She chuckled. “It’s funny to hear a man who looks like you call another man pretty.”

He frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Oh, lord, now she was going to have to explain herself. “Okay, don’t make much of it, but you’re kind of pretty yourself.”

But not in the way Trevor was. Men like Trevor never interested her because they were perfect. Perfectly aligned teeth, hair that didn’t move, and well…she was sure Trevor had already been dipping into the plastic surgery fund. On the other hand…there was nothing perfect about Vic. He was pretty, that was for sure. But there was a sense of character to his features. The rawness of his beauty—and itwasbeauty—drew her in all the time. She had seen him in a suit, in jeans, and now she was facing him, dressed for the night.

Vic Walton was pure seduction in a tux.

“Pretty?” he asked his accent thickening and drawing out the word. Oh, someone did not like being called pretty.

She shrugged and looked out over the crowd. Arguing with him was just a form of foreplay, or so her friend Amanda claimed. Maybe she should just let it go and be nice tonight. Too much was going on inside her, and there was a good chance she would do something stupid.