Page 23 of The Ampersand Effect

“Let’s get you another drink. Maybe one without ice?”

The captain’s voice was low, amused. When Grier dared to meet her gaze, she caught the unmistakable dilation of pupils as the captain looked at her fully for the first time since she walked over.

Alix and Maren had spent hours shoving her in and out of dresses for this event, but the winner had been the one that silenced them completely—no quips, no opinions, just slack-jawed stares when she’d stepped from the fitting room.

The dress clung and glittered like sin. A high halter neckline left her shoulders exposed, while the fitted bodice flowed into an asymmetrical hem with a daring thigh-high slit, every step threatening a glimpse of toned thigh. An open back emphasized Grier’s developed shoulders, toned back and feminine hips. Black sequins shimmered with every subtle movement, and the strappy plum heels added a splash of color and emphasized her legs and ass.

Judging by the way Captain Maes’s pupils flared, the effect landed squarely where Alix and Maren had intended. The green of her irises was different in the darkness of the atrium, with grays and browns swirling along the edges. Her eyes seemed capable of holding Grier captive and simultaneously causing her undoing with a single, sultry gaze.

“You guys don’t mind if I steal her for a minute, do you?” The captain asked Grant and Delta, never shifting her gaze from Grier’s.

“Go ahead,” Grant said quickly. Grier saw her bother nod emphatically from her periphery. “Just have her back by midnight. She’s our ride.”

“Dad!” Delta groaned, appalled. “Keep her as long as you want, Captain Maes!”

Heat pooled low in Grier’s stomach as she nodded her consent, her mouth once again dry, but for entirely different reasons. Their eyes were locked in a silent, sensual standoff, neither willing to blink. The captain’s hand still rested warm against the small of her back, as if it belonged there.

“Let me take this one.” The captain plucked the empty glass from Grier’s hand and set it on passing tray. The break in eye contact let Grier finally drag in a full breath.

Then the captain’s hand slipped lower. Really low. Low enough that Grier’s pulse responded inversely, galloping through her system. Fingers pressed firmly into the small of her back, the edge of a pinky teasing at the seam of her dress just above her ass. It was seductive. And Grier accepted the warmth that flooded her groin with patient knowing.

“Shall we?” A cockeyed grin formed along the corner of Tobin’s mouth. Grier was suddenly very interested in that mouth.

She had to swallow the cotton ball in her throat. Her voice, barely a whisper, responded before she could think better of it. “Yes. Please.” It sounded far too hungry.

The captain nudged her forward, guiding her with that steady hand, before sliding down to capture Grier’s wrist. The absence on her back was shockingly cold as a chill spread through her body, yearning for warmth from the captain’s touch.

At the bar, Tobin ordered two waters—no ice— and passed one over, tapping the glasses together. She tipped hers back, throat working with a slow swallow that dragged Grier’s gaze down the sinews of her neck, over the deep cut of the tux jacket. Her eyes drifted lower to her open sternum and halted on the inviting swell of the captain’s cleavage. A small slip of black ink winked at her from the curve of the captain’s left breast.

Grier wanted desperately to see more, to follow it first with her eyes and then, delicately, with her fingers.

She gulped. Her mouth was dry again. Her body responded to the captain in ways it never had with other romantic interests.

The captain cleared her throat. “I appreciate the admiration, but my eyes are a tad higher.”

Fuck.

Heat flooded Grier’s face, chest, and neck, mercifully hidden beneath the front her dress. She guzzled her water, quickly attempting to cool her rising body heat. She could feel the captain’s gaze on her. Did she ever stop staring? She needed to catch her breath, and a moment to regain her poise.

The captain silently led them to an unoccupied cocktail table near the bar.

“I know you speak,” she said, her grin sly and inviting as she leaned in just enough to bridge the height difference. “Mind contributing to the conversation a bit? I’m feeling a tad one-sided.”

Grier stiffened, but found her voice. “Yes. I do speak. Forgive me while I find my bearings—I never anticipated I’d speak to you again.” She was harsher than she intended, but not untruthful.

The captain’s face remained friendly, as if she had expected something along these lines. Grier respected her for not feigning innocence.

“I deserve that.”

That’s it? No explanation? Maybe her respect was premature. Surely she’d offer some reasonable answer as to why she hadn’t called.

“Why?”

The captain furrowed her brow. “Why do I deserve your ire? Or why did I not call?”

“Yes.”

“One-word answers,” the captain chuckled, though the sound came out tight.