admired women of many different physical attributes, personalities and professions. He didn’t have a “type.” But his gaze strayed back to the corner where Elisabeth sat. The neon sign on the wall above her cast an otherworldly glow on her coppery hair. He toyed with the idea of taking the bull by the horns and marching to her table, just to prove to himself that he could. If it was true she’d gotten engaged, he could buy her table a bottle of whatever passed for champagne here.
He was mulling over the merits of this idea when Hyatt announced in an unsubtle stage whisper, “Incoming hottie.”
The brunette? Justin swiveled in his seat, then sighed heavily. Lina. What had he done to deserve being accosted by her twice in one week? He stood, putting some distance between him and his buddies, potentially shameless eavesdroppers.
With her hair in loose curls over the shoulder of her knit dress, it was understandable that some men found her attractive. But all Justin felt when he looked at her was mild exasperation and confusion about why people called her the pretty Donnelly.
He kept his voice low. “Come to yell at me some more?”
She wasn’t scowling tonight. Instead, she leaned into him, beaming as though he’d invented chocolate. “Do you know what I’ve realized? In the entire time we’ve known each other, I don’t think you’ve ever asked me to dance.” She put her hand on his arm and batted her lashes.
He was tempted to ask how many of the one-dollar pitchers she’d enjoyed. But her gaze was alert and stony, belying the flirtatious tone of her voice.
“So how about it?” she purred. “Dance with me?”
As different as the Donnelly twins were, he knew they were as loyal to each other as he was to his own siblings. There was absolutely no way Lina would hit on her sister’s ex-boyfriend, especially not right in front of Elisabeth. So what was going on?
Curiosity more than anything else prompted him to agree. “One dance.”
The music was mostly masked by the cacophony of a packed bar, but buried beneath the ambient noise was a discernible bass line. He let her lead the way onto the floor, rolling his eyes when she tottered in a pair of high heels that were ridiculous for December. “You’re going to sprain an ankle in those,” he predicted.
“Nonsense. They’re new. I’ll be fine once they’re broken in.” She shimmied and wriggled to the beat. “Besides, they make my legs look fabulous.” Pausing expectantly, she gave him a chance to agree, but he was unwilling to engage in the pseudo-flirting.
He retreated a step. “What are you up to?”
She sighed. “When I saw you at the ski shop, I’d just found out about Elisabeth’s engagement and my emotions got the best of me.”
“So you wanted to apologize?”
“Hell, no. Dancing with you serves a two-fold purpose. Elisabeth recently claimed she didn’t give a rodent’s butt who you date, and I’m challenging that assertion. Let’s see if my dancing with you bothers her.”
“It’s bothering me,” he muttered.
“Also, I never got around to what I actually meant to ask you on Sunday. I want you to talk to her.”
“What?” He froze, abandoning even the halfhearted attempt at dancing. “Bad idea. She doesn’t want advice from me.”
“She doesn’t want advice from anyone. I think she’s trying to prove something about having control of her life and making savvy decisions but, Justin, I know my sister. She’ll regret this. Steven gets here Thursday night—that’s her fiancé.”
The word scraped across his nerves like the sharp, unexpected sting of a paper cut.
“Promise me you’ll talk to her before he arrives?” Lina cajoled. “It’s a long shot, but maybe if you seem sorry you ended things—”
“I’m not. And I won’t lie to her.” Justin was not a great boyfriend. But he was, at the very least, honest with the women in his life.
“Then just ask her if she’s happy. She’s had years of practice managing me and our parents, and she keeps deflecting us. Maybe if you’re the one who confronts her, you’ll catch her off guard enough to make her think about it. Call her, and I’ll never bother you again.”
“I’m telling you, she won’t listen to anything I say.”
“Maybe, maybe not. How will you know if you don’t try? I don’t think you’re prepared for how focused I am when I want something.” She put her hands on her hips. “This is my hometown, too, Justin. We could run into each other a lot in the next few weeks.”
He really, really should have gone straight home tonight. “Your parents are decent people. Do they know you’re out threatening the populace?”
“Not the populace, slick, just you. Think I’m an unstable pain in the ass now? Wait until the person who’s always been the steadying influence in my life moves to California.”
That far away? The information thudded to the pit of his stomach. “I’ll call her before Thursday night.” Even if Elisabeth hung up on him, he would have fulfilled his end of the bargain. “But the next time you spot me in a public place, Miss Donnelly? Forget you know me.”
* * *
SINCE NONE OF the patrollers had seen their waitress in half an hour, Justin volunteered to go to the bar for a couple of waters and a coffee for Grainger. Trying to get through the crowd gave him some appreciation for what salmon had to endure to swim upstream. For the most part, all he could do was move when the crush of people around him did and try not to knock anyone over whenever movement halted—not that there was enough room for someone to actually fall in this throng.
The teeming mass thinned out slightly near the restrooms as some reached their destination, but others entered the fray, trying to return to their tables. He found himself face-to-face, body to body, with Elisabeth. Recognition burned through him, the visceral acknowledgment of this woman as his lover.
Ex-lover.
Very ex. But his five senses didn’t register the change of status. Her dress reminded him of a trench coat, buttoned down the front and belted with a knotted sash. He wanted to tug it, to unwrap her. Unlike her sister’s crazy five-inch heels, Elisabeth wore a pair of leather boots that disappeared beneath the hem of her dress. It suddenly seemed urgent to find out how high up those boots went.
Aware that her startled expression was blossoming into one of disapproval, he tried not to picture her wearing nothing but the boots.
Color climbed in her cheeks. “You’re in my way.”
“Or you’re in mine,” he countered with a grin. “Depends on how you look at it.”
She huffed out a frustrated breath and angled her body sideways, wiggling so that she had room to pass between him and the wall to his left.
Follow the beautiful redhead or continue his trip to the bar? He changed direction before he even finished the thought. The bar could wait. “I don’t know if you saw me on the dance floor with Lina—” who’d certainly been doing her part to sell the spectacle “—but
