Complete Me (The Stark Trilogy)

almost hinting at a smile. Curious, I turned to look in that direction, but saw nothing but suits and dresses and a sea of black. “What is it? Kevin?” I added, praying he wasn’t heading our direction.
    “Cole August,” she said. “At least I thought I saw him.”
    “Oh.” I licked my lips. My mouth had gone suddenly dry. “Is Evan with him?” I forced my voice to sound casual, but my pulse was racing. If Cole was around, it was always a good bet that Evan was, too.
    Then I remembered what day it was and my pulse slowed as disappointment weighed down on me. “Isn’t tonight the ribbon-cutting for the hospital wing Evan funded?”
    Kat didn’t even spare me a glance, her eyes still searching the crowd. “Not sure. Maybe.” Her glance cut to me. “Actually, yeah, I think it was. That sucks. He’s going to hate missing this. Evan and Jahn were tight.” She dragged her teeth over her lower lip, then glanced at her watch. “Oh, shit. I have to go make a call. I’ll be right back, okay?”
    “Sure,” I said, confused. Who the hell did she need to call right now? That wasn’t a question I pondered for long, though, because as I shifted slightly to the left, I caught a glimpse of Cole. And right beside him—looking like he owned the world and everything in it—was Evan.
    Immediately, my chest tightened and a current of electricity zinged across my skin. Technically, I saw him first, but it was my body’s reaction that caught my attention. Only after I felt him did I truly see him.
    And what a sight he was.
    Whereas Cole might be sex on wheels, Evan Black is the slow burn of sin and seduction—and tonight he was in rare form. He must have come straight from the hospital, because he was still in a tux, and although he was clearly overdressed, he appeared perfectly at ease. Whether in a tux or jeans, where Evan was concerned, it was the man that mattered, not the garment.
    He had the kind of chiseled good looks that would have gotten him plucked from obscurity in the Golden Age of Hollywood, and the kind of confidence and bearing that would have made him a box office draw. He both came from money and had made his own fortune, and it showed in the way he held himself, the way he looked around a room, managing to take control of it with nothing more than a glance.
    His eyes were as gray as a wolf’s and his hair was the color of cherrywood, a deep brown that hinted at golds and reds when the light hit it just right. He wore it long in the back so that it brushed his collar, and the natural waves gave it the quality of a mane—which only enhanced the impression that there was a wildness clinging to the man.
    Wild or not, I wanted to get close. I wanted to thrust my fingers into his hair and feel the locks on my skin. I imagined his hair was soft, but that’s the only part of him that was. Everything else was edged with steel, the hard planes of his face and body hinting at a dangerous core beneath that beauty.
    And, yeah, I had good reason to believe that the danger was more than just an illusion.
    Right then, though, I didn’t care.
    I wanted the touch, the thrill.
    That desperate need to fly I’d been feeling all night? So help me, I wanted to fly right into Evan’s arms.
    I needed the rush. I craved the kick.
    Dammit, I wanted the man.
    And it was just too damn bad that he didn’t want me, too.