Page 61 of Blitzing Emily

Nothing could be further from the truth, at least right then. In a world full of people, James was the last person she wanted to see. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to run. Even more, she wanted to disappear.

“Where’s Heather?” Emily said.

He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m doing well. Heather’s at home. She’s ... She’s feeling a little under the weather.”

“I’m sorry to hear she’s ill.” Emily’s voice sounded like it was coming from far away. Truthfully, she wanted him to go elsewhere. “I hope she’ll feel better soon.”

He took a long sip of champagne, and flashed his perfect, insincere smile. Too bad that she seemed to be the only one who knew what was behind the seemingly flawless display. “She’ll be fine. We’re having a baby.”

Obviously Emily was hearing things.

“I could have sworn you just told me Heather’s pregnant.”

“Yes. Yes, we are. It’s a girl. Heather’s in her second trimester.”

“You said you didn’t want children,” she blurted.

“I changed my mind.” He motioned to the server for another glass of champagne. “Where’s your fiancé?”

“He’ll be onstage in a minute.”

James licked his lips as his gaze traveled slowly over her. “You look lovely, Emily. Engagement obviously agrees with you.”

She swallowed hard, resisting the impulse to slap him into the middle of next week.

“So, when’s the wedding?” he asked. “We’ll look forward to receiving the invitation.”

Emily leaned forward. There was no way she wanted those seated around them to hear her comments. News traveled fast, but bad (or scandalous) news traveled even faster.

“You must be out of your mind. Leave me alone.”

James assumed the pouty, supercilious expression he’d always worn whenever he wanted to let her know she didn’t measure up to his expectations. In anything.

“I’d like to think we could be friends, Emily,” he said. “You insist on holding so much envy and bitterness toward us. Why can’t you be happy? We are.”

People in surrounding rows were swiveling around to hear what was being said. James was really putting on a show.

To Emily’s surprise, a big, warm hand took her arm and propelled her to her feet. “Sugar,” Brandon said. “I’ve got this.”

“I thought you were backstage,” she muttered.

Instead of responding, he faced James and said, “I’m Brandon McKenna. And you are?”

“James Peterson.” James stretched out his hand.

Brandon ignored James’s gesture. “Hey, Peterson, my fiancée asked you to leave her alone. Wouldn’t it be the gentlemanly thing to find another place to sit?”

“I wanted to catch up,” James whined. Emily watched his Adam’s apple bob as he tried to swallow. There was fear in his eyes. Brandon was at least half a foot taller than James, and outweighed him as well.

Brandon’s eyes narrowed to slits as he moved closer.

“No, you didn’t. You wanted to cause a scene.” His voice dropped. “If you don’t leave Emily alone and stay away from her, I will remove you from this event. And not gently.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” James sputtered.

Brandon smiled, but his eyes bored a hole through James’ chest. “Want to bet?” He waited a beat. “Leave, Peterson. Leavenow.” He took a step toward James, who jumped up from his seat like it was electrified. It was all Emily could do not to laugh at the panic on James’ face.

James half-ran from the seating area.

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