Lacey shot me an apologetic grin.
On rubbery legs, I made my way through the tables, my confidence flaking away, layer by layer. The hallway leading to the restrooms seemed to expand with every step. When I rounded the corner, I stopped dead, feet cemented, heart racing.
In my path stood a man. Not just any man. Him. The guy.
Wearing dark gray slacks, a dark blue dress shirt rolled at the sleeves, tie loose, he leaned against the wall. His coat was draped over his left arm. He held his phone in his right hand. No ring, thank God. Head down. Attention on his cell.
Beautiful. Painfully handsome.
My pulse spiked, the roar between my ears so loud I feared the entire city would feel the tremors. The ladies’ room was just out of reach, so close, yet a million miles away. If I moved, would he see me? Would he recognize me?
Of course, he would. I was the crazy woman who had kissed him on the street. Who’d barreled into him on the sidewalk. Who had unleashed her insane ex-boyfriend on him twice.
Why couldn’t I move?
I was on a date, for crying out loud.
Forcing one foot in front of the other, careful not to click my heels, I pressed my palm on the door and braved one more glance. Thank the good Lord, he still stared at the phone. He raised a hand, raking his fingers through his hair and, dear sweet gods of holy, heavenly, lustful bliss, my entire body flushed with heat and prickly tingles.
I paused, only for a breath, but a moment long enough for the man to lift his eyes to mine. All at once, my lungs ceased to expand, my world spun at a nauseating pace, and I wanted so, so much not to be on a date.
On a raspy exhale he said, “You.”
My knees buckled at the thick, raw, sensual tone.
I couldn’t stop my grin. Mesmerized, lost in those eyes, I leaned against the doorjamb and whispered, “You.”
He pushed off the wall, stood straight, and shoved his cell into his pocket, shoulders rolling forward like he bore the weight of the world, indecision flickering behind his heady gaze.
A tortured man if ever I’d seen one.
I wanted to jump into his arms. Talk to him. Touch, breathe, know him. Kiss that face. Make him laugh. Watch him cry. Bring him to his knees.
What was wrong with me? I was on a date.
Mean for mean.
But God, the way he looked at me.
A laugh carried down the hall, making me jump, tearing me from my fantasy, reverie, whatever the hell had me spellbound.
Before doing something foolish, I ducked into the ladies’ room.
I made my way back to the table, determined not to let Victoria or that sexy stranger ruin my evening with the very handsome redhead. Eyes on the prize.
My cheeks heated at the way Martin’s face lit up when I approached. He stood. Pulled out my chair. Waited for me to sit, then pulled his own seat closer. He smelled good, expensive cologne applied in a modest dose.
“Nats, you okay?” Lacey whispered in my ear. “You’re red as a beet.”
“Yeah. Yeah, just hot.” I reached for my water glass and took a dainty sip when I really wanted to chug.
The weight of Victoria’s stare bore through me, a dull knife sinking straight into my temporal lobe.
Martin cleared his throat. “We ordered a bottle of Barolo. Lacey said it was your favorite.”
To which I replied, “We might need two bottles. Lacey and I can empty one in five minutes.”
Everyone laughed. Martin had a nice laugh.
“Where’s Cole?” Lacey asked.
“He got stuck with a client,” Victoria answered, drawing her finger up and down the stem of her wine glass. “Should be here any minute. Said we can start without him.”
The next twenty minutes passed with polite conversation. I learned that Ellis had considered being a medical doctor but instead became a pharmacist because he wasn’t too keen on blood and gore. Martin was a pilot for a global distribution company. Victoria had spent the past three years on the East Coast, where she met her fiancé at a fundraiser for at-risk youth. He was a business owner and real estate developer who had recently returned to Seattle to be near his family and to open a gym as well as a women’s shelter in honor of his late sister. He sounded like a good man. Victoria sounded head over heels in love.
“So the three of you grew up together?” Lacey asked, gesturing between Ellis, Martin, and the empty chair next to Victoria.
“Yeah.” Martin nodded. “Grew up on the island.”
“The island?” I asked, knowing damn well what he meant, despite the multiple islands surrounding the area.
“Mercer Island,” Ellis stated.
“So you were a group of rich, entitled kids.” Lacey winked at me. Neither of us had ever wanted for anything, but growing up, there’d always been a clear divide between the middle class and the upper class. More notably, the upper-upper class, those who grew up on the Eastside, which included “the island,” a chunk of land that sat smack-dab in the middle of Lake Washington between Seattle and Bellevue.
Victoria snorted at the jab, then covered her mouth, trying to hide her laugh, throwing me off guard. The woman I’d labeled “monster” almost seemed human. Maybe even likable.
She’d always been pretty. One of the prettiest girls in school. She was no longer simply pleasing to look at. Victoria was downright gorgeous, and dare I say, glowing?
Ugh.
“We were not spoiled rich kids, if that’s what you think.” Ellis gave Lacey’s neck a squeeze.
“Yes, we were,” Martin threw in, shooting me a wink.
“Okay, fine. We were,” Ellis conceded.
I studied Lacey studying Ellis. She was a goner. And she, too, glowed. I wondered if a man would ever make me glow. Then I thought about the man in the
