Although it killed him to admit it, Alan was finding the party rather enjoyable. Denny had excelled himself in planning it, and already there were people coming up to him and complimenting him. He was just thankful that Denny had invited so many people that they had been forced to move the party to a large hotel, where there was a wonderful event hall complete with a dance floor. He found his toe tapping just thinking about it. Gazing around at the happy party-goers, he found himself searching for Tania, who had been told to come by Denny – not invited, but told. Typical Denny Crane. But the person who did catch his eye was most certainly not Tania.
Her head was a mass of blonde curls, swept up into a clasp at the back of her head. Many of the curls were escaping their prison, and hanging loosely from the bottom of the diamond studded piece of metal. She wore a breath-taking red dress cut low into her cleavage, which flowed along the contours of her tanned body and swept the floor in a manner which gave the illusion of her being several inches above the floor, and was not walking but floating. She turned around to talk to a man next to her, and Alan inhaled sharply when he saw her face. She truly was beautiful, with soft brown eyes and a rose red mouth set in a seductive pout. A small stud sat in her nose, and large chandelier earrings hung from somewhere under her loose hair. Alan cleared his throat, and made his way towards the punchbowl.
"…Yes, that sounds very interesting indeed," the blonde said as she chatted to the gentleman. "But what about the stereotype that you come under? I've always seen attorneys as money grabbing vultures, if you don't mind my saying so." The gentleman laughed as the band struck up a smooth waltz, and said something Alan couldn't hear. He figured now was his chance. He walked towards her with a smile on his face, and put his hand out to her.
"Alan Shore, of Crane, Poole and Schmidt. It's lovely to meet you, Miss ah…"
"Moran. Rosalie Moran." She smiled, and Alan was shocked at how luminous it was. He took her hand and kissed it gently. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine. I understand that you were talking to this gentleman here, but I was wondering if it would be acceptable to ask you to dance."
"I should be delighted to accept your invitation, Mr Shore. Excuse me, Brad." With a slight grin on his face, Alan led Rosalie to the floor and slowly began to dance with her.
"Why on earth were you talking to Brad? He's charming and rich, yes, but incredibly vapid."
"What makes you think I care about money and looks?" Rosalie smiled and slid an arm around his neck, holding her skirt away from the floor with her other hand.
"The fact that you know Denny Crane always helps to make such judgements. And also, you didn't tell me what you do, so I assumed you merely sponge off of richer creatures than yourself. Or, you're the heiress to a multi-million dollar business."
"I know Denny Crane by design, not by accident. Actually, I'm neither a sponger nor an heiress. I'm a professor at Columbia."
"You're joking."
"Maybe. But as we hardly know each other, does it really matter what we say?"
"I thought honesty was the best policy?"
"Only if you want to get in a woman's underwear," Rosalie said as Alan dipped her. "Please tell me you're not going to try; you'll be the third tonight."
"Well that depends; is three a lucky number for you, Miss Moran?"
"I don't really believe in luck so much as a law of averages." She grinned at him.
"That's interesting. I can't say I believe in luck either." Over Rosalie's shoulder, Alan saw Denny and a redhead he recognised making their way purposefully towards him. "I know this is awfully impolite, seeing as we've only just met and all, but someone I don't wish to speak to is bearing down upon us with alarming speed, and so I would like to kiss you now so that she thinks my dance card is full."
"If we must," Rosalie replied, and allowed Alan to kiss her, before finding herself responding; something she had not intended to do. His grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her closer, and she wrapped her other arm around his neck, savouring every second of the impromptu kiss. Then, a man's voice said;
"Alan, so impolite to your guest of honour – kissing other women in front of her! I am sorry Tania, I mean-" As Denny pulled Alan away from Rosalie he gasped. "Rosie?!"
"Dad!"
"Dad?" Alan said, confused.
"Alan?" Tania said with a smile.
"Oh, God," muttered Alan, and signalled to the waiter for a drink. "Waiter!"
