David shook it, though he didn’t smile. Not that Iris blamed him. He’d only ever met her father, but that was enough to put David off her whole family.

“You’re a Fortune, then?” David asked.

“No, we’re related on her mom’s side. Kincaid’s the last name.”

To her astonishment, Mickey shook hands all around, as if he were one of the social elite shooting the breeze. Except, dressed in his leather and denim, he looked manlier, wilder, hotter. For God’s sake, the man was a chameleon, a con man who could probably fit in anywhere with anyone.

David’s brow wrinkled in uneasiness. “I thought your mother was Russian.”

“She was.” She raised her brows at Mickey.

He had the audacity to wink at her. “Yeah, my mom was her sister, but she ran off with an Irishman. I mean, what are you going to do?”

Before anyone could reply, he took her glass of wine and handed it to David. “Hold this, will ya, Dave? I need to talk to Iris about a little family matter. I’ll bring her back in a sec.”

“What are you doing?” Iris nearly stumbled as he pulled her away from the group.

“Enjoying a few quiet moments without his kind looking down their noses at us.” In a twinkling, he had her on the edge of the dance floor. “Dance with me.”

The orchestra was playing a Sinatra-style ballad while couples swayed in slow and sensuous rhythms. Iris balked. “Don’t you think that’s a little provocative for cousins?”

“Interesting choice of words, because you really don’t want to provoke me tonight.” Mickey hauled her against his chest and folded his arms around her. “Let Dave and his buddies make what they want out of this.”

Iris squirmed, but though his grip didn’t hurt, he also wouldn’t loosen it. Continuing to struggle would only create the dreaded scene she always hoped to avoid.

“Fine. What’s this family matter you wanted to discuss?” She followed his steps, or rather the gentle swaying of his hips.