“No. You knit. Don’t you?” His smile was arrogant and cold.

She couldn’t kick him. She really wanted to.

“How about giving me a turn, Bill?” Bart asked when the music stopped.

“Sure thing, Mr. Riddle,” the older man returned with a grin. “Thanks, Miss Mina,” he added, making her a half bow before he melted into the crowd.

“I haven’t ever danced much, you know, Bart,” she faltered.

“We’ll struggle along together.”

“And I thought this party was going to be dull,” Cort mused. His eyes were focused on the refreshment table. Or, rather, what was standing beside it. Ida Merridan was giving Cort the eye, smiling like a tiger looking over a piece of juicy meat. “Who’s the gorgeous lady?” he asked Bart, with a smug, dismissive glance at Mina before his eyes went back to the brunette.

“That’s Ida Merridan,” Bart told him. “She’s divorced from her second husband.”

He pursed his sensuous lips. “What sort of fool divorces a woman who looks like that?” Cort wondered.

“Men who can see beyond makeup,” Mina quipped. “But then, it takes a discerning man to manage that.” She smiled demurely.

Cort glared at her. “At least she doesn’t dress like a woman from the Third Crusade,” he said in a soft, cutting tone, his eyes disparaging Mina’s very conventional dress.

She just looked at him and smiled, her heart breaking at the sarcasm that came so easily to him. “Oh, I don’t have a good divorce lawyer, much less a rich ex-husband, so I can hardly aspire to her wardrobe.”

“You could hardly aspire to a man, full stop,” he retorted, turning to go.

“Cort, for God’s sake,” Bart began.

Mina put a hand on his arm. “Your cousin is entitled to his opinion,” she said. “He likes sausage grinders.”

Cort stared at her, confused.

“You’ll understand after Mrs. Merridan feeds you through one. Do have fun.”

She turned back to Bart, pointedly ignoring Cort. “I need to ask you something about my taxes,” she began.

Cort cursed under his breath and went across the room to the divorcée. He didn’t even look back.

“HE’S MORE ABRASIVE than he used to be,” he told Mina. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have brought him to the party if I’d realized how he was going to behave toward you. I don’t want your special evening ruined.”

“As if he could,” she said, pretending for all she was worth. She smiled. “I’m having a good time.”

“Well.” He drew in a long breath and glanced over at Cort, who was just drawing the divorcée onto the dance floor. “I’m glad.”

They were playing some Latin tune now. Bart stopped and led Mina off the floor. Neither of them could do those dances. Cort, apparently, could. He drew Ida along with him to the rhythm and sighs went up from the female guests as he danced a samba with his partner. He was good. He laughed as he moved to the rhythm. The divorcée laughed, too. She had stars in her eyes. Or diamonds, more likely, Mina thought wickedly. She was going to be so disappointed when she discovered that her partner was just a working cowboy. It made Mina feel better. Well, a little better, at least.