Crush by Crystal Hubbard

treasure at the end of a rainbow was…“Fine.” She shook herself out of her reverie. “I’m fine.”
    “You wanted to see Kenneth? Perhaps I can help you.”
    “No!” she said a bit too sharply. “Uh…no. I just…got a little bored waiting for you.”
    He smiled. “For a moment I was afraid that you were trying to duck out.”
    A loud, brittle laugh burst from her. She quickly turned it into a cough. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “I’m sorry I’m so late. We had to reschedule some playing dates in Europe to accommodate a makeup performance for the concert last week in Boston,” he explained. “Thunderstorms in Rome delayed my return. How was your flight over?”
    Miranda still wasn’t hearing him. She had interviewed hundreds of celebrities, both major and minor, and Lucas was one of the few who actually looked the same in photos as in real life. Actually, photos didn’t do him justice. In real life, he was so gorgeous it was hard to breathe and look at him at the same time.
    “I’m starving.” Lucas took her hand. “I imagine you are, too. Shall we?”
    Miranda gave herself a mental slap. All the man had done was walk into the room, and she had become a drooling, mindless slave to his exquisite male beauty. This wasn’t like her, and it wasn’t how she wanted to be. She cast her eyes to the floor. It was easier to remain in control when she wasn’t swimming in his beautiful eyes.
    “Yes.” Miranda noticed that he wore jeans and athletic shoes. Heat surged through her as her gaze lingered on how well he filled out his jeans. “Do you need to dress or something?”
    “No,” he chuckled. “Do you?”
    “No. Not if you don’t.”
    He tucked her arm through his. “Then, my lady, we’re off.”
    * * *
    Lucas led her past the crowded Banquet Hall and up a long flight of stairs to a smaller, more intimate chamber. Smaller meaning that the room could seat only fifty people comfortably, where the Banquet Hall easily sat one hundred. A wooden table was set elegantly with an enormous floral display, and crystal and silver for a five-course meal. At one end of the table were a lit candelabra and one place setting. Twenty-five feet away, at the other end, was another candelabra and place setting.
    Morgan posed staunchly near the center of the table, close to a standing bucket of ice from which jutted a bottle of champagne and at least three bottles of wine. He was dressed in a black cutaway coat and gleaming white gloves that matched his white silk cravat. Miranda wondered if he’d been waiting for her and Lucas all this time.
    “Good evening, sir,” Morgan began formally, “and lady. Tonight, a warm appetizer of escargot avec garlique will start your meal, followed by crab tartlets with leek puree accompanied by a lightly chilled Verdicchio from Conwy’s award-winning wine collection. Next, we shall serve duck with kumquats, complemented by a well-rounded Brouilly. Blue cheese soufflés will follow, and the grand finale to your meal will be Belgian chocolate mousse and fresh raspberry sorbet presented with a sweet Gewürztraminer.” Morgan bowed crisply before approaching them. With great ceremony he took Miranda from Lucas and escorted her to one end of the table.
    Lucas went to the other end. He didn’t sit until Miranda had been seated, but once he took his chair, she disappeared. His view of her was completely blocked by a three-tiered monument of roses, phlox, bear grass, philodendrons and Queen Anne’s lace in the center of the table.
    Lucas was glad that Miranda couldn’t see him. It had taken every particle of will power he had to walk her to his private dining room when what he’d really wanted to do was pitch himself atop her right there on Morgan’s sofa. He drank long, hard gulps of his ice water, hoping it would cool the fire burning through him. The woman wore jeans, a sweater that revealed only a bit of her collarbone, no makeup and no jewelry and she had done nothing to her