head and started walking again. “Where are you going now?” she asked, digging in her oversize purse in search of her car keys.
“The NYAA mixer.”
Cadence spun around with her hands up in protest, “No!”
Alana took in a breath and exhaled. “I know you don’t like those kinds of gatherings, but you need to get out and meet some new people.”
Ignoring Alana, Cadence clicked the car alarm and slid into the driver’s seat. Alana sat next to her, on the passenger’s side. The last place she wanted to meet someone was at a mixer full of pretentious lawyers. They reminded her of high-profile cattle calls where arrogant men waltzed around in their tailored suits trying to one-up each other with their dossier of accomplishments, while the women shamelessly put their pedigrees and other things on display for all to see. Her last ill-fated relationship was with a lawyer. Needless to say, that was not a match made in anybody’s heaven.
Cadence never did fare well at these types of events. A self-proclaimed horrible networker, she shied away from them as much as she could, which is why she never joined the New York Association of Attorneys. She didn’t feel comfortable in the presence of these groups. Besides being somewhat of a loner, she was also the daughter of a senator and had experienced more than her share of inauthentic relationships. Now she just tried to avoid them at all costs.
Without another word, Cadence pulled off and headed back toward her home in Garden City.
“Cadence!” Alana yelled, turning toward her in the passenger seat. “I know you hear me talking to you. It will be fun. We don’t have to stay long. Besides, I’m on the board of the local chapter, so I have to at least show my face.”
“No, Alana! I’m not going.”
Alana grunted. “You really should give it a try. I’ve made so many great connections.”
“I have all the connections I need. My dad is a senator, remember?”
“Your own connections...” Frustrated, Alana shook her head. “Besides, it will be good for you to meet some of the members and see how we do things. You really should consider joining. You’d be a great addition.”
“I’m doing fine on my own. You know social groups aren’t my thing.”
“It’s a professional organization, not some social club.” Alana blew out an irritated breath. “Well, you owe me anyway! Come tonight and we can call it even.”
Cadence nearly slammed on the brakes. “Owe you for what?”
“Dragging me to your annoying cousin’s party.”
“Oh...that.” Cadence sighed, casting her eyes sideways. She had to admit, that event was a disaster. She’d felt obligated to attend because it was family but didn’t want to go alone, so she’d lugged Alana along with her promising that she’d make it up to her.
“So, yeah. You owe me.” Alana smiled, sitting up in her seat as if she’d just won a prize.
Cadence cut her eyes. “I still didn’t say I was going.” Alana turned toward Cadence and stared.
Cadence’s resolve collapsed as she pulled the car to a park in front of Alana’s condominium. “Okay. I’ll go.”
“Yay—” Cadence cut Alana’s celebration off with a narrowed eye and a pointed finger. “What?” Alana drew the inquiry out.
“I’m not staying more than an hour. So when I’ve had enough, you have to leave with me.”
“Trust me. You’ll have a blast.” Alana leaned over and hugged her friend. “I’m driving, so I’ll pick you up at six. We have to get to midtown before seven and I want to be sure to get a close parking spot.”
Cadence looked at the green digital numbers illuminating the dashboard. “It’s five thirty now! I have to get home, shower and find something to wear.”
“See you at six,” Alana reiterated with a huge smile, ignoring Cadence’s alarmed expression as she exited the car. “I have to get there early. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.” She slammed the door and then leaned over, gesturing for Cadence to roll down the window. Sticking her head in, she said, “Now that I’m getting you out, the next thing we need to do is get you a man so you can get laid.” Alana howled at Cadence’s twisted lips. Cadence rolled the window up on her and pulled off, watching Alana continue to laugh through her rearview mirror.
Blake Barrington looked at his brothers and shook his head. Both Hunter’s and Drew’s backs were bent as they held their stomachs, roaring at Blake’s expense. At first, Blake tried not to be taken in by their antics, but couldn’t help himself and eventually folded and let loose his own contained laughter.
That was the third woman in the past fifteen minutes that had practically thrown herself at Blake’s feet. He wondered if his brothers were trying to prank him and actually ran his hand across his back as high as he could to make sure they hadn’t posted any crazy signs. The last woman was the weirdest of all, approaching him by taking his hand in hers and kissing the back side. When she lifted her eyes to meet his, Blake wasn’t sure if the dark shading over her lip was moisture from a drink or a real-life mustache. However, when he looked down at the spirally coils springing from her ample cleavage, he realized his vision wasn’t failing him. From the looks of it, this woman had a robust supply of testosterone. Instinctively, his hand went to his chest and he thought about the fact that she had more hair on hers that he did on his.
“Enough already,” he chided his brothers, who continued to laugh uncontrollably. Drew’s eyes glistened and he fell into a coughing fit. Hunter had to pound him on the back a few times. Blake shook his head and called the waitress over and ordered another round.
When Drew was able to regain his composure, he straightened his back, wiped his tears and breathed deep. “Sorry, bro. I couldn’t help myself. Your Sasquatch radar is obviously on the blink. I wish you could have seen your own eyes when they landed on her mustache.” Drew fell into another fit of laughter.
“Don’t worry, man—” Hunter placed a reassuring hand on Blake’s shoulder “—big brother will show you how it’s done,” he said, picking up the snifter of whiskey the voluptuous barmaid had just placed on the counter. Passing one glass to each brother, he said, “Cheers,” and lifted the blend in the air for a toast before throwing back a healthy sip.
They had met at the trendy lounge early enough to share a drink together before the NYAA mixer started. Hunter and Blake had followed their father’s example of becoming attorneys. At twenty-nine, Hunter was the oldest with Blake trailing him by eleven months. Drew, the baby of the crew, was two years Blake’s junior and the rebel of the family. Despite acquiring his JD, he opted to pursue his passion in the world of motorcycles instead of practicing law. His championship races and award-winning designs graced the pages of the most popular motorcycling-enthusiast magazines.
Taking notice of the growing crowd, Blake looked at his watch. Throwing back his last sip of whiskey, he winced at the favorable burn and placed the glass back down on the bar. “We should get going.” Blake led the brothers through the dimly lit lounge down to the lower level, where the mixer was actually
