Page 5 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

Perhaps I should’ve been more annoyed with the situation, but it more so amused me than anything. It definitely livened up the night as it began to calm down. “It’s very unusual,” I mused, “that you were put on a serving rotation, but don’t seem to know the proper etiquette. Is the country club slacking, or are you somewhere you aren’t supposed to be?”

“I’m supposed to be here,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction as I inched closer to his con. “They—they asked me to join the waitstaff tonight.”

“Who asked?” I pulled out a name who wouldn’t have anything to do with it. “Ms. Jennings?”

The dimwit took the bait. “Yes, I—I think that was her name.”

Again, I nearly smiled. If Ms. Jennings would’ve asked this man to do anything, it would’ve been to accompany her to the coat closet. She hadn’t seen him yet; she surely wouldn’t be making kissing faces with Dr. Conan ifthat’d been the case. No, the waiter was just her type—young, tall, handsome.

At least I can find a man to kiss, she’d said.I bet you haven’t even kissed a man yet.A small thrill skated through me, and with my free hand, I reached out and smoothed my fingers down the fabric of the waiter’s shirt collar. The cotton was, in fact, well-worn, too soft to the touch, but I allowed my fingertips to linger. “Do you think you could do me a favor?” I asked in a slow, measured voice. “Because I could use your help with something. If you are, in fact, wanting to get on my good side.”

Wariness filled his gaze. “What kind of favor?”

“I just need you to stand there and look pretty.” For him, it shouldn’t be too hard. It wasn’t often I was met with attractive men my age, but this waiter, objectively, was. Not in a way that stirred my pulse—nothing could stir a block of ice, after all—but in a way that made this moment even more perfect. I moved my fingertips from his collar to the top of his shoulder, feeling the muscle beneath the fabric. “I’ll give you whatever you ask for in return.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

It was clear that hadn’t been the response he expected. His eyes flashed wide, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “You—you can’t kiss me.”

“Why?” His stuttering was a little endearing. Once more, I looked around the ballroom, noting the number of people remaining. They were tipsy, mostly unreliable. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No, but?—”

“A boyfriend?”

He became even more panicked. “No.” Then a resolute expression crossed his features. “I—I am an employee of the Alderton-Du Ponte Country Club, and it would be wrong… for me to kiss you.”

“You wouldn’t be kissing me. I would be kissingyou.”

The waiter swallowed hard. “Miss Margot.”

There it was. A confession, in a way. He knew me, at least by name. It confirmed my suspicions—my mothermust’vehired him. For what, I wasn’t sure, but discovering her spy was a small victory.

It was then that a tiny smile slipped, my lips curving upward, and the waiter’s eyes fell to my mouth. A spark tingled in my stomach, watching him watching my lips, for a reason I couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just a quick glance either, but a lingering one, one that prickled my skin.

The waiter seemed to relax by a fraction. He must’ve thought that the longer our conversation went on, the safer he was.

Unfortunately for him, he’d been wrong. He’d learn it the hard way—Margot Massey was not one to talk to, lest she decide to use you for her enjoyment. “This isn’t personal,” I assured him. After taking one last sip of what mostly likely was juice—and swallowing the strange feeling that’d surfaced—I placed my flute back on his teetering tray. I eyed it for a moment, gauging where the weakest spot was.

“But thank you for taking one for the team.”

He almost seemed afraid to ask. “Whose team?”

“Mine.”

I lifted my arm sharply, as if shaking out my jacket sleeve, and the movement would’ve seemed casual to anyone glancing over, not calculated the way it was. The back of my hand smacked the bottom of the waiter’s tray, and, due to the improper positioning of the way he’d held it, it toppled. The champagne flutes practically flew up before crashing to the ground with a scream, throwing liquid and shattered glass across the marble tiles.

Every head in the room turned toward the two of us, startled by the sound. Even the pianist cut off with a sharp error of the keys.Just Margot, I could practically hear them say, shaking their heads with scorn.Shewouldbe at the center of it.

I didn’t look to see if my mother was watching, because I knew she was.

Yes, I thought to them, smiling ever so slightly. Once more, it was a genuine smile, and in the briefest moment of stillness, I saw the waiter’s eyes drop to my lips, noting it.I would be.

I reached out and grabbed ahold of the now pale waiter’s face, drawing him in and pressing my lips to his.

CHAPTER TWO

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