This was the part Rose always hated, which was why she’d probably told mostly the truth when she’d met Tom.
Natalie held back a sigh. The worry in her friend’s eyes when she left just reminded Natalie of her own worry that she was going to lose her best friend. The feeling of impending doom weighed heavily on her so much so she had to concentrate to keep up with the conversation.
Perhaps because of that, or because of the five glasses of champagne she drank on an empty stomach, but she found herself saying to Mark, ‘Let’s dance.’
Sliding her bag under the sparkly trimmed tablecloth, she took his hand and he led her to the dancefloor. The live band playing Christmas music made it hard to navigate through all the bodies that seemed to have the same idea.
Little bouquets of mistletoe were strung from the ceiling directly above them and she tugged Mark beneath one, looking up, then at him expectantly. A knowing smile pulled at his full lips before he bent down and brushed them against hers.
The kiss was nice, slow and building, but not the sort she read about in books that turned her body into a furnace and buckled her knees. A long time ago, she’d resolved that fiction was not real life, people didn’t always get happy-ever-afters and a pair of strong hands holding her up as she clung to muscled biceps with a desperate sort of passion was not in the cards for her, maybe not anyone.
But she tried harder to feel more, feel something, throwing everything into the kiss and twisting her fingers through his thick, silky hair. Mark returned her enthusiasm, prying her mouth open with a swipe of his tongue, tangling it with hers. A familiar warmth in the pit of her stomach bloomed and she was about to suggest they find somewhere more private, but it was Mark who broke away first.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to maul you like that,’ he said, sounding shocked at himself.
‘It’s okay, I don’t mind being mauled by you.’ Which was true. He was a nice guy and she was single. What was the harm in having a little fun? Especially since she was just getting into it.
Someone knocked her forward, into Mark’s arms and she bumped against the growing bulge in his pants, a reminder of what she’d been hoping for. A little bit of passion, even if it seemed to mostly be on his part. But she was definitely getting there.
Mark swallowed hard. ‘Let’s get off this dancefloor and talk.’
What warmth she felt sizzled out. He was really a nice guy – probably wanted to take her out on a date or ten before there would be any more heated kisses. Which would breach her second rule and be her cue to leave.
When they were back at their table with a fresh glass of champagne each, she discreetly pulled her handbag out from under the table.
‘Nicole, look. I really like you. How about we do this another time, without everyone we work with gaping at us?’
‘Definitely,’ she lied, feeling stupid more than anything. Was she so desperate for a connection with someone tonight she just threw herself at him? He was hot, but a one-night stand was something she’d only done a few times. And she’d only done them with men she’d felt at least a little lust for, not just the warm and fuzzies. ‘Could you excuse me? I need to go to the ladies’ room.’
‘Yeah, of course. They’re over there,’ he said, pointing to the entrance and, luckily for her, the exit too.
She grabbed her bag and made a beeline for the front of the building, feeling annoyed at herself for not realising Mark was one of the few gentlemen left in the city. Holding her chair out for her and asking her questions about herself should have told her everything she needed to know. And he’d only kissed her so intensely because she’d pushed for it.
As soon as she got out into the hall, the redhead she’d seen earlier darted out of the men’s bathroom looking flushed with her hair all over the place and her dress ruffled up one side. She smacked straight into Natalie, knocking them both off balance Natalie had to drop her bag to catch herself on the wall. The other woman’s face went from flushed to scarlet.
‘Oh my god! I’m so sorry. Let me help with this.’
Before Natalie could think or breathe, the woman picked up her bag and handed it over. ‘Are you okay? I should have looked where I was going.’
Natalie took the bag and shook her head to clear it. ‘I’m fine.’
She was about to ask what the woman was doing coming out of the men’s room, when she saw the guy who’d caught her stuffing her bag with canapés coming out of the same door, pressing his lips together as if to keep from laughing at the spectacle before him.
Right, that answered that question. And to think, if Mark hadn’t side-tracked her, she might be the one looking like she’d been thoroughly attended to, not the redhead.
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,’ the redhead said wrinkling her nose, ‘but did you know you smell a bit beefy?’
A laugh erupted from the bastard still standing at the door to the men’s room, quickly dousing any fantasies Natalie had of having switched places with the redhead. She glared first at the redhead, then him and stalked out of Mode with her chin up. Her exit only seemed to make him laugh louder and her face burned so hot she must be puce by now. Her only saving grace was that she’d never have to set eyes on either of them again.
As Natalie hailed a taxi, she vowed her next solo party crash would not be an embarrassing shambles. There was no way tonight could possibly get any worse, at least.
At home, she spread her plunder on the coffee table and was about halfway through when the front door opened. Rose’s cheeks were tear stained, like she’d been crying. Natalie stood and whirled on Tom, about to give him hell for hurting her friend when Rose stuck her left hand, palm down, in front of Natalie’s face.
The diamond set in a bed of sapphires on her friend’s ring finger was Natalie’s worst nightmare come to life.
‘Nat, I’m engaged! Tom and I are getting married!’ Rose said with tears of joy streaming down her face.
Well, that would teach her for stupidly thinking the night couldn’t get any worse.
A cold sweat broke out over her skin and what little she’d eaten of her plunder made a bid for freedom. ‘I’m going to be sick,’ she announced, then clapped her hand over her mouth bolted for the bathroom.
After, she lay with her head on the cold tiles of the floor, gripped with terror that she would soon be alone, really alone for the first time in years.
Two nights later, Dean Fletcher had just finished up for the weekend when his younger brother came into his office, closing the door behind him.
Well, he’d hoped he’d finished up, but Jeffrey had a panicked, jittery look that meant either a deal had gone bad or one of their systems had failed. ‘Spit it out, Jeff. I’m running late as it is.’
But his brother didn’t speak, he just paced back and forth in front of Dean’s desk.
‘What’s
