Page 61 of Perfume Girl

I glanced in the direction of the stalls. “There’s some great art for sale around the corner. You should check it out.”

“Not here for the polo, then?” Embry looked amused. “You gotta admit it’s kind of hot.”

Damien glared at her and then focused on me. “You look good.”

“You too.” My lips failed at a smile; this was hell and I glanced around trying to look for a way out.

“I did the catering,” explained Damien, pointing toward the lavish display.

Jesus.I’d nearly scarfed downhischocolate-covered strawberries. That would have been the equivalent of siding with the enemy.

“Want to join us?” asked Embry.

Or preferably, I could run into the center of the polo match when it started up again and have those horses trample me. The outcome would be the same.

“Hey, beautiful!” Astor called out. He was walking through the crowd carrying two champagne flutes and wearing a smile I didn’t recognize.

I searched the faces around us for the lucky girl who’d won his heart, feeling a spark of jealousy that she’d made him beam with that level of happiness. My gaze snapped back to Damien, not wanting to see Astor’s type. Embry’s stunned gaze seemed to be following him, too.

Astor sidled up to us and offered me one of the tall flutes. “There you are.”

I took it from him and vaguely noticed Embry’s mouth twitch uncomfortably when Astor wrapped his arm around my waist.

“We won.” Astor grinned. “Though having the best horses helps, obviously.”

“Obviously,” said Damien. “Well done.”

Astor pulled me against his side and raised his drink to take a sip. “You’re as stunning as always, Raquel. So glad you made it.”

“Thank you?” It came out as a question.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he said to Damien, “I want to introduce her to my friends. They’re curious to meet you, sweetheart.”

I was feeling both relief and confusion as I was led away from Damien and Embry. Astor guided me all the way to the other end of the tent.

“That was impressive horsemanship.” I wasn’t sure what else to talk about.

He smirked. “Thank you.”

“Must have strong thighs for that.”

“Well, you know I do.”

I clenched my teeth. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You are delightful when you’re thrown.”

“I’m merely enjoying a Sunday off.” I grimaced. “Well, I was until I saw them.”

“You didn’t know they’d be here?”

“No. Damien did the catering. This is a charity event?”

“For a children’s hospital in Palm Harbor.”

“That makes up for the pomp and ceremony.” I flinched. “Sorry, didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. On the surface polo is a spoiled man’s sport and the wealthy pay well to watch as they enjoy their hors d’oeuvres. But out there…” He turned to look back at the field. “…it’s the most dangerous sport in the world. It’s war. There is nothing that rivals the adrenaline of winning against such remarkable competition.”