Page 49 of Words We Didn't Say

I groaned. “Lawyers?” I’d had enough of one particular lawyer to last a lifetime.

“Those uptight bastards aren’t so bad once you get some booze in ’em.”

My lip curled. Maybe that was where I’d gone wrong—not getting Zach drunk enough. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Babe, listen ’ere. I don’t want you gettin’ all pouty. We’re here to make an appearance. I’ll shake a few hands, and you’ll shimmy your sexy rear around enjoying all the free champagne. Then, we’ll fuck off somewhere fun.”

“Promise?” I clasped my hands under my chin. “Yvette’s getting together a few people for margarita shots at El Diablo Cantina later.”

“Lock us in, babe.”

Two guys in suits fell over themselves when we walked through the door. Heads turned. More people rushed over. Sam was a Big Deal.Deep voices boomed, and there was a lot of shoulder slapping and congratulations for last night’s ‘amazing fucking game.’ Sam shook off the praise and proudly introduced me as ‘his special friend,’ which led to round two of shoulder slapping.

What a bunch of drongos.

“Sam,” said one suit. “The line breaks you managed last night—”

Cue my exit.

Let them talk about boring rugby. One remotely interesting group of people drowning in the sea of suits needed rescuing; I just had to find them. My polite smile faded as I scanned the room.

A group chatted in the corner with some guys stacked like Sam. Boring. The women huddled near the bar appeared to be having about as much fun as me. Maybe they were my people? My eyes fell on another group by the windows overlooking thestadium. I didn’t notice the game unfolding on the other side of the glass or the thousands of thundering cheers.

Why, hello there, gorgeous.

My greedy eyes found a new home appreciating the man wearing a navy suit. Dark hair barely tamed. Tall. Broad shoulders. A veiny hand wrapped around a glass of…hmm, probably scotch. Rich lawyers always sipped scotch. Zach did.

The man across the room had a commanding presence. Sexy supervillain vibes. My new partner in crime—if he was lucky. My libido burst back to life with the swoop of my stomach.

Oh yes, this man would be the perfect distraction.

When I dragged my gaze away from how nicely this new gentleman filled out his trousers, the old guy next to him locked eyes with me and grinned.

Busted.

Old Guy leant over and whispered something to his companions, pointing across the room at me. I rolled my eyes. The group whispered with the subtlety of a group of giggling teenagers. My handsome stranger’s head started to turn, seeking me out over his shoulder. Dark, stubbly jaw…a serious scowl…and…familiar brown eyes blazing behind black-rimmed glasses.

My hand balled into a fist by my side.

Some fairy godmother Yvette turned out to be. What the hell did she think she was playing at?

Mr. Supervillain was none other than Zach.

I stepped back, the familiar flutter of nerves in my feet urging me to run, run, run! Flustered, I stumbled, but before I fell ungracefully on my butt for the first time in my life, Sam’s arm weaved across my back to steady me. His big hand clasped my shoulder. Instinct. He didn’t even stop chatting.

My heart raced. I pressed my hand to my chest, took a deep breath, and dared to lift my gaze. I expected to clash an awkwardlook with Zach, but his slitted eyes were locked on the hand Sam had left draped lazily over my shoulder.

Oh.

Power surged through my veins. Jealous, was he? The evil bitch inside me awakened. It was time to up the ante and make Zach suffer.

I shimmied close enough for my hip to knock into Sam. “Want a drink?” I feathered my fingertips up his side, hoping one particular set of dark eyes watched my every move from across the room.

“Babe, you read my mind.” Sam flashed me his winking grin. “Surprise me with somethin’ that knocks my socks off more than that dress.”

I blew Sam an air kiss as I sauntered away. What a show. I could feel Zach’s eyes follow the swish of my hips as I walked to the bar.

And I only needed one guess for who edged the empty glass on the marble counter beside me. Zach must have downed his drink on his way to the bar. Dutch courage? Was he worried I’d create a scene?Please.I had more class than that. But I refused to acknowledge him. I couldn’t. My skin was too flushed, burning up, and my pulse still pounded. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the effect he had on me.

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