Page 32 of A Billion Dollar Romance
James met my eyes, put his hand over my own where it still rested on his arm. “Silent auction?” he asked, and when I nodded, escorted me through the crowd towards where Charlie and Maddie stood looking at one of a few dozen items up for auction.
We made our way down the long row of playoff tickets, diamond earrings, getaways in tropical paradises…
“Ah, these look familiar,” Barrett said, nodding at a short stack of three books. “This your apology gift?” He huffed out a laugh.
“You too?” James asked, and Barrett tipped his head towards a bottle of wine supporting a small envelope.
“Gift cards to the restaurant,” he said.
“First editions,” James countered. “Signed.”
I checked the spines:James Martin, James Martin, James Martin.His life’s work, or at least, so far. I’d read them all–several times. Had studied his word choice, his pacing, had gotten lost in the complexity of his language…
“Barrett’s CEO of a restaurant group,” James told me, and I blinked and looked from the first editions to the man who’d written them. My date.
Myfiancé.
“Don’t ask me to cook, though, I burn water,” he laughed. I got the feeling that this was a well-worn joke. “I just do the books.”
“I think that’s James, too, actually,” I said, and Barrett laughed again. He was handsome, tall and broad-shouldered like James. He looked like a man. An adult.
“Touché, Edie. I can see why he likes you,” he said, and I smiled.
It was good he did, because suddenlyIdidn’t, not tonight. James looked down at me, smiling, and my eyes swept over the crinkles around his own eyes. James’s friends were old enough to have restaurant groups. Ex-wives.Nineyear olds–apreteen,or nearly. I felt my cheeks heat in my fancy dress. Flora had been right: I probably did look like a lost prom-goer.
“I like her because she’s read all my books, of course,” he said, and his lips tilted into a smirk. “She’s a very attentive student, my Miss Taylor.” I searched his eyes for a joke.
I found only heat.
My heart flip-flopped in my chest. In his tux, he looked mature. Established. Not like my professor or even my boss, but like my–
My one-night stand, the man who had swept me confidently into his penthouse apartment, had undressed me stitch by stitch and then made me come apart in his arms. My nipples pebbled against my dress, the smooth fabric suddenly prickling against my flushed skin.
“Do you mind if I get some air?” I asked.
“I’ll come with you,” he said, but I shook my head.
“No, you stay here. I’m sure there’s something here you want to bid on.”
“Why would I?” he asked. “I already have what I came for.” My cheeks warmed.
Then he glanced at the diamond on my finger.
Right.To see and be seen, trotting out his fiancée, looking less like a playboy and more like a serious businessman. After all, what had Charlie said about seducing fiancées?No, that’s more your style.And Barrett:That’s your apology gift? We don’t talk about last year.
I wasn’t stupid, even if these men were older than me by a dozen years.
“I’ll be right back,” I promised.
I hurried off toward the back of the atrium, hoping to find a bathroom. I could hide there for a moment, text Flora for a pep talk, and be back on his arm before any of the partygoers noticed that I had gone. A burnished brass plaque above a nondescript door readLadies’ Lounge,and I ducked inside, through an awkward little make-up area where a few women were applying lipstick, and into a cramped stall.
“Did you see him holding that little girl’s hand?”
I could hear the ladies gossiping by the mirrors as I dug for my phone. How such a tiny purse could contain such depths was beyond me.
“So cute. I don’t know why someone doesn’t snap him up.”
“I do. Hiswife,” a third voice said.
