Page 34 of One Night Only
Emily doesn’t notice me at first, still wholeheartedly captivated by the guy who, on closer inspection, totally dyes his hair. His hands have moved lower—definite hip territory—and my anger surges, bubbling just below the surface of my skin. I force my gaze away.
“I didn’t catch your name, darlin’,” I say, my voice much louder than it needs to be, for obvious reasons.
“Melanie.”
I nod, glancing sideways. Emily is still none the wiser. Dammit.
“And what do you do with yourself, Melanie?”
“I’m recently widowed, so at the moment I’m doing a lot of shopping to help console myself.” She smiles like a woman not at all in mourning.
Regardless, I apologize because it’s the right thing to do. “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that.”
She waves a perfectly manicured hand. “Oh, my husband was an old man.”
You don’t say.
“He was eighty-two when I married him,” she continues with a grating giggle that sounds like nails down a chalkboard. “So it really wasn’t unexpected.”
I smile tightly, trying really hard not to roll my eyes. But when I notice a familiar blonde staring directly at me from my periphery, I force a laugh as if what Melanie just said was the funniest damn thing I’ve ever heard.
“What about you?” Melanie asks, her gaze once again doing a slow assessment of me. “Any lucky lady managed to tie you down?”
“No, ma’am.” I shake my head, smirking. “I am as single as they come.”
“Well, lucky me…” She giggles, stepping into the danger zone, her big breasts practically rubbing against me, but I allow it when I look to my right to find Emily’s gaze laser focused on us. Me.
“I have a suite at the Four Seasons,” Melanie says after an extended period of eye-fucking me. “If you’re not doing anything after this…”
She reaches out and drags one of her long, pointed nails down my chest. And not so long ago, I’d have seriously considered the offer. I’m no ageist. I love all women. Even the ones old enough to be my momma’s best friend. But things have changed. Andthis is all for show. And, if I’m being honest, the thought kind of grosses me out. The thought of being with any woman who isn’t the blonde less than a few feet away from me gives me the ick.
With a sidelong glance at Emily, I startle when I realize she’s no longer there. I crane my neck in an attempt to see over the heads of those crowding the dance floor, my eyes searching. But she’s gone. And panic settles in my chest at the thought of her not only leaving, but also at the real possibility that she might have left with Jenn’s brother.
“Um, I’m sorry, Melanie,” I say. “Will you excuse me a moment?”
“You’ll come back, won’t you?” She flutters those thick, spidery lashes at me.
I force a smile I know doesn’t reach my eyes. “Of course.”Not a chance in hell, sweetheart.
Turning, I snake my way through the throng, gaze darting about, but it’s hopeless. She’s nowhere. I spot Fran talking to some guy from the HMC marketing team, and I touch her shoulder, giving her a pleading look when she turns to me.
“What’s up?” Fran asks, stepping away from her colleague.
“Did you see where Emily went?” I ask lowly, trying so hard not to sound as worried as I really am.
She shakes her head. “What happened?”
I tell her what I did, and she deadpans with anare you fucking seriouslook.
“I know. I fucked up,” I say under my breath, still searching the space.
“Okay, don’t panic. Let me ask around,” Fran says with a hand in the air to placate me.
I tear my fingers through my hair. How can I not panic? Pulling my phone from my pocket, I scroll through to my text thread with Emily.
Me: I’m sorry, Goldie. I’m an idiot.
CHAPTER 15
