Just Like a Man by Elizabeth Bevarly Read Free Book Online

invitation really meant
elegant comestibles from the caterers'.
    Great. Now he was going to have to go out and buy one of those Zillionaire/English dictionaries.
    So much for the deviled eggs he'd picked up on his way over. He didn't even see them put out. Bitsy Wainwright must have deemed them unpotluckable, even though the woman behind the deli case at the supermarket had assured Michael they were just the thing. Though Bitsy probably would have had a better word than
unpotluckable.
But it would be one Michael wouldn't recognize, since it doubtless only appeared in the Zillionaire/English dictionary that he didn't own. And it wouldn't be a pronoun, either, since Bitsy seemed to have been absent from school the day they covered those.
    Still, there was no reason for him to feel so uncomfortable, Michael told himself. This shindig was no different from a million other such gatherings he had attended in the past. The distant past, granted, but it never seemed distant enough. In fact, this alleged potluck was way too much like those dazzling, dizzying diplomatic dinners he'd been forced to endure with Tatiana as a young man. He'd always hated those damned things.
    But then, they'd never had someone like Hannah Frost in attendance.
    Friday night, he mused, and she was still at work. Not that he was surprised or one to talk. But he knew his reasons for his lifestyle, and they were good ones, by God. He couldn't imagine why someone like Hannah, someone beautiful and intelligent and successful—and okay, a bit anal-retentive, too, which maybe explained part of it—wouldn't be relaxing and enjoying her life on a Friday night. A life that surely included a man who appreciated beautiful, intelligent, successful—if a bit anal-retentive—women, because no way would Michael believe she was uninvolved.
    Then he remembered she wasn't uninvolved. Though Hannah was certainly showing a profound lack of good judgment by seeing Adrian Padgett socially. And probably romantically, too, if Michael knew anything about Adrian. And, of course, he knew everything about Adrian. Even more, he'd wager, than Adrian realized he knew.
    Without paying attention to what he was doing, Michael began to gravitate toward Hannah, but the nearer he drew to her, the farther away she seemed to be, almost as if she were avoiding him on purpose. Then he noticed she was moving from one group of people to another, obviously just doing her job, chatting with all the parents present. Except him. Then again, she might be reluctant to chat with him, what with him stalking her the way he was…
    Stifling a growl of frustration that he could be so enchanted by a woman who should have been in no way enchanting, Michael made himself stop following her around like a lovesick puppy. Maybe she'd find him instead and engage him in a little one-on-one.
    And, man, he really wished the phrase
one-on-one
hadn't worked itself into that observation.
    What the hell was the matter with him? he wondered. How could he possibly be having libidinous thoughts about a woman dressed in a black getup that was all straight lines, her silky hair fashioned into the sort of 'do usually reserved for Mother Goose? She in no way invited libidiny—was that even a word?—the way she was outfitted.
    As if she'd sensed him thinking about her—oh, sure,
now
she sensed him, when he was comparing her to Mother Goose—Hannah's gaze finally lit on Michael, her eyes widening in what he could only liken to panic. Oh, so it wasn't the Mother Goose thought she'd picked up; it was the libidiny one. Damn. Still, at least he'd gotten a reaction out of her. He'd take whatever looks he could get from her at this point, even a deer-in-the-headlights one. Before she had a chance to glance away and pretend she hadn't seen him—like he'd let her get away with
that
—he lifted a hand in silent salutation and began to make his way toward her. And she was polite enough to pretend she was happy about it.
    "Mr. Sawyer,"