Catching the Storm

41. Not So Gracious Host

Crystal's POV

Blood was roaring in my ears and the rest of the world faded out. My brain just stopped working, because there was no way this was happening. No way he was sitting on my couch.

"Crystal?"

I turned back to my father. "I'm sorry," I said. My voice coming out far more breathless and distressed than I intended. "My mind was elsewhere. What were you saying?"

"This is my associate Kurt Branson," My father said. "I'm sure you've seen him around before."

I nodded my head and then internally screamed as Branson pushed to his feet and walked over to me. He held out his hand.

"The pleasure is all mine," He said.

It took everything in me just to give him my hand. Took all of my willpower to keep the cheery-but carefully blank-expression on my face.

After all, there was no use in completely freaking out. I mean, would he even recognize me? He never truly got a good look at me.

"Nice to meet you," I said in a voice full of false cheer. "You work with my father then?" I questioned.

Branson did not let go of my hand and instead brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on my hand. His eyes, however, never strayed from mine.

I wanted to rip my hand away from him. Wanted to run and hide. Either that or I wanted to shoot that hungry tiger expression off his face.

"Yes," He said as he lowered my hand from his mouth and finally let go.

I just barely resisted the urge to yank my hand back at lightning speed. Instead, I retracted my hand slowly, normally, acting as if nothing was amiss.

Branson suddenly pointed to my shoulder. "You have something on your blouse," He said as he took a step toward me, hand outreached like he was going to brush aside whatever it was.

It took everything in me not to back away and I just held up my hand. "Oh, I can take care of that."

He didn't listen. His hand brushed against my shoulder and he leaned in closer as if checking to make sure he'd gotten rid of whatever it was he'd seen on my blouse.

"How's your husband?" He whispered so only I heard.

My blood froze in my veins and I could no longer keep the cheerful expression on my face. Not that it particularly mattered, since Branson was currently the only one who could see my face as my parents were standing behind me.

Evidently, he did recognize me. This was so not good.

"How's your wife?" I hissed back quietly between my teeth.

The smile he shot my way was sinister.

He pulled away from me. "There, I believe I got it."

"My hero," I said with false cheeriness.

He looked me up and down. "You were blonde all those times I saw you on the magazines or the television," He said.

I nodded, not bothering to put on a fake smile for him any longer. Not while my parents couldn't see, at least. "I felt like a change."

He nodded back at me. "Suits you better. Makes you less . . ." He trailed off as he watched me. "Underestimated."

"Oh?" I said questioningly. "Was I ever underestimated?

"Oh yes," He replied.

"Crystal dear," My mother said I turned to her with a smiling face, silently praying she was going to give me a reason to get away from everyone. "Your father and Branson need to talk to you about something."