Page 8 of After-Party Consequences

‘Or better yet, on one of the tables,’ he added, his Southern drawl edged with amusement.

Sensation streaked through her, burning away the last of the romantic glow.

‘Cade Landry, what an unpleasant surprise,’ she murmured, then wanted to kick herself when the rich sapphire of his irises twinkled like the damn fairy lights.

Fabulous!The man had caught her totally off guard, or she never would have admitted she remembered him or that brutal humiliation from four years ago.

She swallowed, trying to stifle the unwelcome sensations already making the hair on her neck tingle with awareness.

She’d been eighteen and seriously messed up back then, or she never would have thrown herself at him and exposed herself to his ridicule. She was twenty-two now and had left that miserable phase of her life behind—weirdly enough as a direct result of his brutal rejection, which had finally made her confront how far out of control her life had become and how vulnerable she had made herself to men like him. But she would rather die than admit to him that his cruel slap down had helped turn her life around. Because she doubted he’d care. Plus, she had stopped looking for approval in all the wrong places... Especially from overbearing billionaires like Cade Landry, who—from the amused, indulgent expression on his handsome face—still had an ego the size of Las Vegas and the rough-hewn, rugged muscles to match...

Rough-hewn...rugged...? What the heck?

What was she doing noticing the defined contours of his chest through the tight white T-shirt, and his long legs and lean waist displayed to perfection in worn jeans?

She didn’t do needy and desperate any more. And she didn’t get turned on by anyone—however fit they might be—because in her limited experience, sex was about as much fun as a root canal.

So stop checking out his pecs, then.

‘How about you dance with me and we test that theory?’ he said, with an audacity she should have expected from a player like him.

She’d read all about Landry and her brother, Adam, and Adam’s mate Zane deMarco, and their giddy dating shenanigans in an article on the plane...which would have been funny if it hadn’t been illustrated with so many candid photos of the man in front of her with a host of different women on his arm. Beautiful, smart, stunning, sophisticated women...

Making her far too aware of how swiftly he’d slapped down her clumsy attempts to seduce him, once upon a time. Okay, she’d been off the rails and screwed-up, but he hadn’t needed to be so cruel.

‘What theory would that be?’ she asked, annoyed by the adrenaline spike at the sparkle in his eyes.

‘The theory that you and I can’t be friends now, Charlotte,’ he said.

‘Friends?Really? You think we can be friends? Have you forgotten how you kicked me out of your place four years ago? Because—FYI—I haven’t.’ Good grief, did he really think she wanted to give him an opportunity to slap her down all over again? She might be a lot more resilient now, a lot more aware of her own worth, but she wasn’t a masochist, or an idiot.

But then his gruff chuckle at her snarky response made her heartbeat accelerate. Disconcerting her.

‘Sure, why not? Aren’t you a woman now, Charlotte, instead of a kid?’ he said, the provocative question entirely deliberate. Was he coming on to her?

She should be insulted, but she wasn’t...quite. Which was even more disconcerting... But then, Cade Landry was an exceptionally hot guy—and unfortunately, he knew it.

‘Actually, I was a woman back then,’ she said, because she owed it to that wayward girl to defend her. ‘You just didn’t have the guts to handle me.’

His eyebrows launched up his forehead. And she congratulated herself on the direct hit. But then his lips curved, and his hot gaze roamed over her. Not with disdain this time, but with approval, which was a great deal more disturbing.

Her sex clenched and released, just as it had four years ago, a response she’d never felt for any other man.

Oh... Hell. Seriously?

‘Sounds to me like you’ve held a grudge for four years because I wouldn’t kiss you,’ he said.

‘Sounds to me like your ego is still the size of Pluto,’ she shot straight back, refusing to confirm or deny. Maybe she had been devastated at the time—disproportionate to his actual crimes—because she’d been so vulnerable then, behind the bad girl pose. But he’d still been an overbearing humourless arse, so there was that.

‘Touché, Charlotte,’ he said, the teasing tone tempting now, rather than judgey. ‘How about I say sorry for being so blunt last time we met...and we start over.’

It wasn’t much of an apology, but somehow, it helped to ease her anxiety at seeing him again, and being reminded of that awful encounter in Vegas.

He held out his hand. ‘Dance with me...’ he asked again, the glow in those searing sapphire eyes hot enough to thaw the polar ice cap.

The urge to accept his invitation—simply to rewrite that chapter in her misspent youth, she told herself staunchly—had the anxiety downgrading even more...

But then the band dived into another fast-paced song. The couples on the floor whirled around, their intricate steps adance Charley had never seen before—and knew she couldn’t pull off without making a fool of herself.

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