Page 45 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

After emailing her notes on the antique business to Renzo and making sure he could find the staff to continue their work together, she’d taken over the executive director position at the South Florida museum since the corporate management ousted Miles. Next week marked her official triumphant return, but she’d been given the keys to the place already so she could redecorate her office ahead of time.

As Esme gave her car over to the valet and doled out a tip for the bellhop who would take her bags up to her suite, she wondered where she would snag a desk for the refurbished workspace. It didn’t seem right to accept Renzo’s extravagant desk since she’d walked out of their new partnership and their fledgling relationship. But all week she kept envisioning that mammoth piece of furniture in the middle of the director’s office.

A symbol of her strength, Renzo had called it.

Esme hesitated as she headed into the hotel entrance closest to the nightclub. The loner within begged her to proceed directly to the Sensualist’s Suite and indulge in the free night’s stay Pauline Wolcott had demanded Esme accept this time.

But new Esme—from now on, theonlyEsme—needed to make her way to the bar just to prove to herself she could. This time around she knew better than to snag any pre-poured glasses of champagne. And this time she knew better than to accept any blind dates.

Another one of her good decisions has been nixing that part of Mrs. Wolcott’s plan. Esme had agreed to spend the night at the exotic hotel to celebrate her new job at the museum, but she drew the line when Pauline insisted Esme meet another blind date.

No thank you. Not this time.

Her heart was still raw over Renzo. She ached with missing him, even though it had been the right thing to do to let him go. Hadn’t it? The tears she cried at night said differently, but she was here. Moving on.

Or going through the motions at least.

Sexy Latin salsa music blared from the club’s double doors as she made her way past the doorman and into the dimly lit interior of the bar. She didn’t regret her wardrobe choice this time— a vintage black eyelet poet’s shirt with well-worn jeans and strappy high heels. Her only real nod to evening wear were her painted pink toenails and the rhinestone costume jewelry she’d unearthed at a garage sale this morning.

Another good decision—not allowing anyone else’s idea of fashion or beauty dictate her own style. Bra firmly in place, she felt comfortable in her own skin now.

Just lonelier than she’d ever been in her life.

And more than a little scared she’d made the wrong decision by taking the hard line with Renzo.

Weaving past drag queens and club kids through the dancing and strutting crowd, Esme ordered a Good Fortune Potion from a passing waitress and tried to tell herself she’d done the right thing by bailing out of a relationship with a take-charge forceful personality.

And actually, it probably would have been the right decision for Old Esme. Miss Geeky and Grateful could have never handled the kind of man who always thought he knew best and failed to consult other people for their opinions.

But in the wake of her big showdown with Miles at the museum, Esme kept thinking maybe now shecouldhandle that kind of strong man. Something told her she’d given up too easily on a relationship that really might have gone somewhere. How could she have thrown in the towel when Renzo had probably only meant to help her? To protect her.

She’d been so quick to walk away because she’d been afraid of losing her newfound backbone. Yet now that she’d pulled her head together and vanquished a few personal demons, she couldn’t imagine anything being strong enough to keep her down again.

Claiming a seat at a table in the back, Esme wondered how much longer she needed to linger in the Moulin Rouge Lounge in order to prove to herself that she could hit the nightclub scene without feeling like a total nerd. Five more minutes maybe?

Settling into a chair only a couple of yards away from where she and Renzo had sat a few weeks ago, Esme reached for her purse when her drink arrived.

Only it looked like… a beer?

Her gaze followed the imported long neck up to the broad masculine hand holding it, the muscular forearm leading to a strong chest, wide shoulders and buzz-cut blond hair.

“Brody?” She’d scarcely taken note of the Renzo’s employee last week because she’d been too wrapped up in her very own Stud of Italy, but she recognized the cabinetmaker who’d been finishing a sideboard with Renzo’s brother in the backyard.

The burly guy shuffled is feet, his cheeks clearly flushing even in the dim lights of the nightclub. “I was wondering if— That is, I hoped maybe you were looking for company?”

Surprised, Esme nudged the chair across from her with the toe of her high heel. “I’m only staying for a minute but have a seat.”

Brody didn’t sit.

He only looked more nervous as he shuffled again. “Actually I thought I’d see if you wanted to come back to my room with me.” He tried for a half-smile that looked more like a grimace. “If you like.”

Surely she was missing something here. Renzo’s employee showed up at Club Paradise to hit on her, only he didn’t look like he was enjoying it very much.

“Pardon me?” Suspicious, Esme’s gaze swept the room in search of the trick. For one thing, men rarely hit on her, and for another, poor Brody looked like he’d rather the ground open up to swallow him whole than have to repeat himself.

“I just wondered if you would come upstairs with me—”

“Wait.” She rescued Brody from having to go through the whole spiel again when her gaze landed on a dark-eyed stud with an oh-so-familiar silhouette.

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