Page 23 of Win Big

Right now he’s surrounded by women, beautiful women all hanging on his every word, edging closer and closer. He appears to be enjoying himself, making them laugh and flip their hair back.

He looks up and catches me watching him, and one corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk.

Jerk.

Heat washes through me in a sudden memory of rolling around on his bed, his tongue down my throat and his hands all over me. Oh God.

My knees wobble and I determinedly turn away from him to smile at Dan.

The prizes are being drawn with much excitement. My feet are killing me in four-inch heels so I find a seat in a shadowycorner and check my phone as if I have important organizing stuff to do.

Someone sits next to me. I glance up and see Wyatt. My belly somersaults and my heart misses a beat.

“I apologize for being late,” he says formally, which is weird for him. “I got here as quickly as I could. Traffic was nuts.”

I nod, keeping my expression cool. “It’s fine. Thank you for making the effort.”

“I wasn’t trying to be an asshole,” he says. “I really thought no one would miss me if I didn’t make it.”

“Judging from all the women crowded around you the last little while, that seems remarkably wide of the mark.”

His lips twitch. “Aw. You were jealous.”

I roll my eyes. “I most certainly was not.”

Then I feel it. Or hear it. The faint buzzing in my ears. I close my eyes. Maybe it’s just because of the noise in here—music, Rick Radman blasting over the microphone the names of the silent auction winners, laughter, chatter... that’s all it is.

“What’s wrong?”

I open my eyes to see Wyatt focused on me with a notch between his eyebrows.

“Nothing.” I force a smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long day. Actually, it’s been a long few months getting ready for this.”

“I’m sure it takes a lot of work.”

“Yes. It’s our biggest fundraiser.”

One corner of his mouth flicks up. “So I’ve heard.”

I pull in a slow breath, filling my belly in the way I’ve learned, and let it out in the same measured way.

“Do you need something?” He frowns. “Do you want me to get your, uh, date?”

“No.” I know he means Dan, and he’s not really my date, but I’m too distracted to explain it.

“Do you need to go home?”

“Can’t.” I breathe again. “Too much to do.”

That’s a lie. They don’t need me here to oversee the teardown. The arena staff are experienced at stuff like this, turning the playing surface from a hockey rink to a basketball court, or a concert venue, in a matter of hours.

In reality, leaving sounds great to me. As the ringing in my ears intensifies, a telltale dizziness makes my head spin briefly.Shit. I don’t just want to leave. Ihaveto leave.

“I’m not feeling well.” I rise abruptly, clutching my phone. “I need to go home.”

He blinks at my terse words and stands too. “Are you driving?”

“No. I arranged a car service. I need to call them.”

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