of both men, which was why they got on so well. The fourth musketeer, Sabrina Douglas, had been the bestie and plucky sidekick for years but recently became Flynn’s wife-to-be. A kick in the nuts since Flynn was the one who initiated a pact with Gage and Reid never to wed in the first place.
But Reid couldn’t deny that Sabrina and Flynn were meant to be together. It was obvious that they were in love, even to a cynic like Reid. Gage had agreed and they’d released Flynn from the pact, leaving Reid and Gage to hold strong.
Until Gage met Andrea Payne, a consultant superhero with strawberry-blond locks and a cunning smile. They were quite the dynamo couple, Andy and Gage. Their wedding was scheduled for next June. Flynn and Sabrina hadn’t set an official date, but Reid guessed that announcement was forthcoming.
Weddings, weddings everywhere.
No matter. The breaking of the pact by both Flynn and Gage wasn’t something Reid took personally. He’d decided a long time ago never to be married for a mountain of reasons he wasn’t going to turn over in his head now. Gage’s and Flynn’s saying “I do” weren’t going to change his mind.
Another swish of the brunette’s skirt paired with her stepping from the dance floor. She aimed those tall shoes right for him. Reid reached up to straighten his tie, forgetting he’d tossed it on the bed in his hotel room along with his jacket. He settled for tugging his collar instead.
In his beige slacks, pale blue shirt, brown belt and brown leather shoes, he resembled every other man in the room save for a few slight differences.
Reid was thirty-one, not in his forties or fifties. He had a head full of wavy dark hair, no signs of male pattern baldness whatsoever. He also had a face that was perplexingly handsome, or so he’d been told. It was a face that aided him in bedding the many women who’d graced his sheets over the years, and he’d made it his mission to show them not just a good time but the best time while they were there.
Sabrina had once joked about Reid sleeping his way through their college campus. He’d responded that he’d been performing a service for women who otherwise wouldn’t have known good sex if it showed up at their dorm room door wearing pasties on its nipples.
A joke, sure, but he hadn’t been completely joking. He prided himself on his prowess as much as his service. He might be Clark Kent by day, glasses on when screen fatigue became too much, but at night he morphed into Superman in the bedroom.
Man of Steel, he thought with a smirk.
For those reasons he hadn’t been in a rush to approach the goddess in the Grecian-style high heels like some of the other men in the room. Reid had already decided to carefully choose his moment, but as she made eye contact, he realized he wasn’t going to have to approach her.
She was coming to him.
Until this exact moment in time, Drew Fleming had never successfully captured Reid Singleton’s undivided attention. She’d recognized him the instant their eyes locked across the room. He looked the same as when her brother, Gage, had introduced him years ago. To summarize: disgustingly, distractingly hot.
Reid, while still disgustingly, distractingly hot, was also somehow more. More mature. Slightly weathered. Handsome. Stately. Broader, too, his shoulders taking up more space in that button-up shirt than they had a right to.
Her heart pattered insistently against her rib cage as she walked toward him, and she forced herself to take deep breaths. She wasn’t going to dissolve into Reid’s biggest fan at a conference mixer, nor was she going to have a panic attack and run off in another direction. Drew was proud of who she was, of how far she’d come. She was no longer Gage’s backward, chubby younger sister. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled shyly as she hid behind her hair.
She put a hop in her next step as she drew her chin up and shook her hair. Reid’s tempting mouth slid into an expression that screamed interested. And who could blame him? She was rocking this skirt.
Reid and Drew didn’t have much of a past to speak of, considering he’d only known her when she was fifty pounds heavier. She’d been the quiet girl sneaking frosting off the edge of her birthday cake because she couldn’t wait for everyone to sing “Happy Birthday” before she tasted it.
Back then she’d had either white-blond hair with pink streaks, or jet black—that phase had lasted what felt like forever—before accepting her weight and her mouse-brown natural hair color as an adult. But today Reid was seeing her as her best self. Her rich, dark hair long and flowing over her shoulders. Her smile bright, her lipstick fresh, her new killer heels sexily laced up her ankles. If there was ever a perfect time to run into Reid Singleton, it was right now.
She’d have to call her roommate, Christina, the moment this mixer was over and thank her for coming down with the plague.
See, Drew might be herself, but she also wasn’t herself. She was playing the role of her roommate, who’d had the unfortunate luck to contract the flu before the tech event for her company. Christina had been working at the Brentwood Corporation for just under a year and was worried if she missed the first conference they’d assigned her to, they’d never ask her to do another.
Drew was desperately in need of a break after a messy split with her ex a year ago. She felt was like she was emerging from the shadows after a long, deep slumber, so she volunteered to come here in Christina’s stead.
Admittedly, manning—or womanning—the booth at the conference wasn’t as fun as an actual vacation, but Drew made the best of it. She’d had a lot of visitors today and smiled and welcomed them even if she didn’t understand what the heck the video she played on repeat was trying to convey. But what she was skilled at was small talk, and so whenever someone popped in, she’d winged it.
Tonight’s mixer was a great excuse to wear the new shoes, admittedly a splurge, but she’d learned to spoil herself—to splurge on things other than food. Drew splurged on joy. Splurged on clothes. And tonight she might splurge on flirting with Reid Singleton. The way he was watching her hinted that he would enjoy that.
She ventured over to the quiet, darker part of the room only he was occupying. Reid set aside his glass, an inch of brown liquid in the bottom, and tilted his head as she approached.
She was tempted to duck her head to hide from the intense eye contact, but she forced herself to hold his cerulean gaze. “Hi.”
“Hello.” His voice was as rich as dark chocolate and every bit as sinful as those stolen swipes of frosting from her birthday cake. In spite of living in America for over a decade, his accent hadn’t gone anywhere. He perused her from head to toe before those traveling eyes locked on her chest. “Christina. That’s a pretty name.”
Oh. Damn. Her badge! She’d clipped it on her top to make sure she would be admitted into the party but failed to tuck it away when she arrived.
Wait...
Reid knew she wasn’t Christina, right? He had to be kidding. And so she laughed.
“Christina. Right.”
“The tag’s a bit of a formality but I’m glad for it. Saved me asking
