Page 72 of Tortured Tones

“Thanks, Becks.” I loved that my friends looked out for me, but I was lethal. I could take care of myself.

“You know his reputation. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.” God. That was the last thing I needed to do.

“Good.”

I couldn’t let my resolve falter. This was just a night out. Some fun.

Should be easy, right?

Chapter 17

AVA

God, this dress is short. I hadn’t worn anything like this in years. My palms hadn’t stopped sweating since I’d agreed to go to the Angels in LA launch party with Cole. In my hotel room, after having my hair and makeup done, I wriggled the sparkly dress into place, zipped it up, and hooked my boobs into position to show off my cleavage. I loved party dresses and high heels, but I hadn’t had many reasons to wear them lately. If I wasn’t in a uniform for work, I lived in yoga pants and T-shirts. The few dates I’d been on since my divorce weren’t to any place fancy—just a local café or restaurant. Those outings didn’t call for cocktail gowns and diamonds. I brushed my fingers over the jewels at my throat. This necklace probably cost more than my annual salary. Luckily it was only on loan.

Yesterday at the boutique, after the band had taken off, Cole had taken me inside to get a dress. While Gabrielle worked her magic on me, Cole sat on one of the velvet chairs and made a few phone calls, mainly to April to book me a room at the same hotel as the guys. I’d tried on four dresses. Cole didn’t seem to care for any one more than the other, so I picked the one I liked—a red, long-sleeved, sequined minidress. I’d refused to let Cole pay for the outfit, but he’d insisted on doing so for the shoes and clutch, and renting the jewelry. So be it.

Our date, which wasn’t a date, seemed to be turning into one more by the minute.

Stupid, right?

He’d probably ditch me the minute we walked into the venue and have his tongue down some chick’s throat within the hour. But that reality didn’t stop the butterflies from swirling in my stomach. Nor the way my heartbeat quickened when Cole stood too close or looked at me with his hypnotic green eyes.

We were somewhat friends. Going to a party. That was it.

I drained the remains of the glass of champagne I’d had from the minibar to take off the nervous edge. After touching up my bright red lipstick, I buckled on my black Valentino stilettos, grabbed my clutch, and walked out of the room feeling like a million dollars.

I headed up to Sutton and Flint’s suite, where I was to meet everyone. As I stepped out of the elevator, Beckett and Kennedy stood outside the room, ready to escort us to the venue.

“Damn, girl.” Beckett licked his fingertip, jabbed the air, and made a sizzling sound. “You look hot. Forgot you wore dresses.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I sniggered, then smiled.

“You ready?” Kennedy asked. His warm smile would give Idris Elba a run for his money.

“Sure am.” Yep. I needed a night out. I sucked in a deep breath and knocked on the suite’s door.

Blake opened it, dipped his chin, and waved me in. “Evening, Ava.”

As I walked into the living area of the suite, the band and the girls sat on the huge sofas having a drink. My entrance killed their conversation. Shock and surprise flitted through everyone’s eyes. Was me being out of uniform that hard to comprehend? Cole jumped to his feet and dashed over to me.

“Wow.” He scanned me up and down, and my skin tingled. “You look amazing.”

“Um...thanks.” I wiped my hands on the front skirt of my dress.

“I mean it.” Seriousness deepened his tone. “I’ve never seen your hair out of a braid or bun.”

“There’s a first for everything.” I smoothed my palm over the styled, wavy curls that reached my shoulder blades and touched the rhinestone clip that pinned one side back above my ear. The hairdo was nothing fancy.

“And damn . . . your legs are freaking hot.”

“Okay...that’s enough with the compliments.” I slapped his arm with my clutch. Too much warmth touched my cheeks. “They’re not necessary.”

“They are when they’re true.”

“Remember, your charm won’t work on me. But thank you.” I took a small step forward and ran my hand down the silky lapel of his suit. “You don’t look half bad yourself thanks to Dolce and Gabbana.” I was glad he’d worn that suit. It was the nicest one he’d chosen.

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