Page 30 of From Hell
Simmons catches me staring and smiles, that dark gaze fixating on my cleavage a little too much. “Is something the matter?”
“Don’t look at the Devil too long. You might catch fire,” a whiskey, smooth voice lilts in my ear as heat prickles, racing up my spine, his presence slipping under my skin like a familiar caress. His clean, masculine cologne of sandalwood and vetiver envelopes me whole.
Jaxon.
Calming my racing heart. I turn to face him. He takes me in and offers his hand. His boyish good looks in a dinner jacket make him instantly less intimidating than the first time he was in his white coat and the last time he was in a three-piece suit. His crystalline gray eyes are lit up and warm. Very different from the grump in the hospital or the demon in the pub, which throws me off for a second.
How many faces does Jaxon Clémont have?
“Good to see you again, Laine,” he says, piercing eyes slowly running up the length of me, smile a sly one that screamswe’re sharing a hilarious secret no one else knows,before leaning in for a cheek kiss. Hot all over from his cool appraisal because he absolutely undressed me with those eyes, I’m sure of it, I play the game and let him.
As he leans in, lips brushing my cheek, the heat of his body makes mine tingle all over. If anyone is catching me on fire, it’s Jaxon Clémont.
“You look beautiful. I still can’t believe we never kept in touch after Victoria,” he says, condescending smile firmly in place as he takes my right hand and brushes his lips over the back. “How’s the arm?”
My mother frowns and looks down at where Jaxon’s lips have strayed, but I’m wearing black silk gloves. He turns my hand over to inspect the injury anyway.
“The hand is fine,” I say, trying to snatch my hand back despite how much it hurts. My stomach gives a strange flip, and I’m too frozen in place to do anything but blink at him.
It’s awkward, me standing there trying to take my hand back, and Jaxon holding me tight, gaze boring into me like he’s caught a juicy rabbit in a snare. I’ve seen dogs look at sausages with less interest.
Panic claws at my throat, but I push it down. “Jaxon, I need my hand back…” I laugh.
Amusement teases over his full lips as he releases me, adding smoothly, “Of course. I’m just about to go to the bar. Would you like to come, Laine? Catch up on old times since you left in a hurry during lunch?” I can’t help but stare at the glass in Jack’s hand as he swirls the amber liquid in it.
“What happened to your arm?” my mother asks with a frown, still looking at it.
“Nothing happened,” I say quickly, needing to find Nola. I see her standing table further back through the crowd, with two cherry red cocktails in front of her. Using Jaxon’s invite as an excuse to leave, I force a smile at Jaxon. “Let’s go to the bar. I have a drink waiting.”
Jaxon’s eyes sparkle as he sips his whiskey. He puts his empty glass on a passing tray and offers me his arm. I don’t take it. I’d rather stick pins in my eyes. I walk off first, hoping he’ll take the hint. He doesn’t. He catches up, gently adding the pressure of his palm to the small of my back to steer me through the crowd.
My guard is up as we walk. Nola is watching us advance with a raised brow. I’m sure she has a million questions, but I have more. They’re swimming around in my head as Jaxon strolls casually beside me. I feel stiff, and a prickling sense of unease seeps into my core. My brain can’t reconcile the man in the bar, who looked at me with desire and icy detachment all rolled into one…with this charming man escorting me across the room.
Maybe I imagined him looking at me like that. Perhaps I was so overwhelmed with his probing questions that I misread the situation.
“That dress is something else,” he drawls as he guides me over to the bar.
“It’s Hervé Léger.” I lick my lips, keeping composed, contemplating how best to answer.
“That’s why my father and that leech, Pierre, was leering over you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say haughtily as I glance his way, studying him as he seems to study me.
Jaxon smirks, dark gray eyes cooling rapidly despite the warmth of the chandeliers behind his head. “You’re good, but not that good. When you lie, the tone of voice goes up a notch and your lower lip trembles. It’s fucking adorable.”
I open my mouth to retort, but nothing comes out, and we get to where Nola is standing, waiting for me to say something and introduce them. But I want Jaxon gone now.
But my body has other ideas. I stare into his eyes, unable to look away. He called me adorable; why does that make my insides feel hot and messy all at once? I bite my bottom lip. “Thank you for walking me to the bar, Mr. Clémont.”
“Always a pleasure, Miss Summers.” He smiles as a feminine voice calls out, followed by a squeal.
“Jaxon! You’re back!” To the left of the bar, behind me, a blonde girl with cat-like eyes, wearing a white dress couture dress in a more modern cut than mine, beckons him over.
Jack flicks his gaze to her for a moment and then returns his attention to me, too busy staring into my eyes to concern himself with the blonde. “You came?”
“Of course, I came,” I blurt out. “Why?”
His lips upturned twitch. “I get the distinct impression that you hate me.”