Page 24 of Nailed

Suddenly, I was clear about what I needed to do. I needed to take control of this situation, like Hollie Berry had with hers. And I needed to get Jamie Reilly out of my head for good.

I smiled. “Will I see you at the social tonight, Ellie?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Ellie’s eyes were on the last lingering people at the back of the room—Sam, surrounded by a small crowd of women.

“Ellie,” I said. “Listen. I don’t know about you, but this talk I just gave about empowering women on the job—we need to extend it to our personal lives, too. We should go out there and claim our coal.”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “Do you mean hooking up with some random man?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. The way men do. Hot, meaningless sex. I mean, no pressure at all. But that’s what I’m going to do.” Articulating it made my heart pound. It had been years since I’d been with anyone. I’d dated a few times since I moved to Quince Valley, but every time I went out with someone, they couldn’t hold a candle to Jamie. They weren’t smart or witty or so sexy they made my insides melt. But there were plenty of men out there who would do just fine, and at least a few of them had to be here at this giant conference.

“I don’t know,” Ellie said.

“I promise you I’m not asking you to do what I’m doing,” I reassured her. “But we should have a good time tonight, no matter what. I hope you at least do that too while you’re kid-free.”

She grinned. “Youaremaking points.”

For a moment, I faltered. Would Jamie show up to the social? He’d made it sound like he wasn’t going to go. But hell, him being there might be even better. Let him see me flirting with someone. Let him see me leave with someone.

Let him see how little he meant to me.

Sam looked over then and smiled. His eyes caught on Ellie for a moment, and her cheeks went pink.

I leaned in, picking up my briefcase. “That’s Sam, and he’s fantastic. I bet he’d be up for a little… flirtation.”

“Oh, God no,” Ellie whispered. “He’s gorgeous, but he can’t have more than a decade on Tommy.”

“Perfect. Claim your coal. Right, Ellie?”

Her smile looked slightly nervous, but also inspired. “Claim your coal.”

CHAPTER9

Jamie

“Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” blasted through the speakers of the restaurant for what felt like the third time that night. I gritted my teeth, taking a swig of my whiskey as Bob McIntyre droned on about concrete foundations next to me. The place smelled like booze and sweat and too many people.

This was normally one of the hotel’s restaurants, but they’d cleared all the tables and hung tinsel and garland all over the damn place. I’d already had to brush the silvery strands off my shoulders twice. In the corner was a giant Christmas tree, though it was still only half the size of the one out in the lobby.

I scanned the room from my post at the bar, all my senses on alert. The place was packed—the chair of the committee this morning said we’d beat our all-time best attendance at nearly two thousand visitors. I should have noticed the increase in attendance at the keynote this morning, but I’d been more than a little distracted. I’d ended up throwing away the speech I’d planned and going off the cuff. It had gone all right.

I took another sip of whiskey, scanning the room for Sarah for the thousandth time as Bob moved on to his woes with concrete supply companies.

Had she skipped the social? Was she in her room right now, celebrating the success of her presentation on her own? She deserved to celebrate; she’d knocked it out of the park. Seeing her up there in that white pantsuit, her hair pinned up into a tight bun, speaking with absolute fucking authority—it had been magnificent.

And it was all her. I may have helped her smooth things out a little in her delivery, but I couldn’t have worked with nothing.

She’d have dazzled even without me.

“So I said, you’re joking if you think that’s worth a hundred bucks, let alone ten thousand.”

Bob was killing me. I would have made my excuses, but I didn’t want to move. From the corner of the bar, I was off the dance floor, had access to whiskey, and had a perfect view of the front door. I glanced in that direction now as a woman walked through the entrance in a blue gown, cut high up her leg. But I scowled when I saw who it was. Not Sarah. I scowled even harder when realized I not only recognized her, but her eyes had locked on mine and she was heading this way.

Fuck me.

Alexandra Jones was in her forties, with a dark bob and a knockout figure. She was an architect in Charlotte, and a few years ago at this conference, we’d had some fun back in my hotel room.

Now, though, the thought of going anywhere near her made me feel ill. It wasn’t that she wasn’t beautiful or sexy. She was, objectively. Bob had even slowed down on his story to ogle her.

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