The sudden appearance of George Harris, a man I'd only ever seen on TV screens and glossy magazine covers, threw me off balance. For a moment, I simply stared at him, a deer caught in headlights. Why was he talking to me?
My hesitation must have been evident because he simply chuckled, a warm sound that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Don't worry," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I don't bite. Just offering my two cents' worth of advice to a beautiful young lady on a special night."
His words sent a blush creeping up my neck. Beautiful? Here, surrounded by impeccably dressed beautiful women who were no doubt of high status, I felt anything but. But his easygoing manners disarmed some of my initial apprehension.
With a shy smile, I admitted, "Actually, I'm not really in the mood for something strong right now. Just water for me, thanks."