Page 2 of The Last Affair
“I’m...fine. Just—” Desta cleared her throat. “Fine.”
“Okay. We wouldn’t want you collapsing on the floor before the fun can begin.” The woman’s hand was still on Desta’s back, even though she was no longer coughing.
“Really, I’m fine. Just went down the wrong way, I suppose.” Or she’d seen someone she shouldn’t have seen. This room was full of people, how was it possible that she’d zeroed in on him immediately? Her heart pounded in her chest as she chanced another glance in his direction. His gaze shifted and she immediately turned away. Dammit! It really was him.
The woman nodded, her big bouncy curls in a fiery shade of red brushing over her shoulder with the action. “I’m Kelli, with ani. This is my second Dear Lover event. How ’bout you?”
Second? Had she struck out with her first match?
“I’m Desta.” She resisted the urge to addwith ana. Instead she said, “This is my first event.” And in a few minutes it was going to be her last, because ifhedidn’t leave, she would.
“Oh, then you’re really lucky I stopped by to keep you from choking to death,” Kelli said. “I can show you the ropes, and if it’s not a good face-to-face matchup for either of us, we can just hang out this weekend and ditch the full agenda.”
That would certainly bring Desta great joy. A weekend with a woman she didn’t know.
“Actually, I may just head back to the city tonight. I have so much work to catch up on at the office.”
Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and the office was closed from Wednesday to Monday. Ronald Gold Fashions might be one of the top fashion houses in the world, but it was also a family business, and its owner and head designer, Ronald Gold Sr., was all about spending time with family. As Desta didn’t have any family on the East Coast, holidays were the best time for her to catch up on emails and research.
Admittedly, she probably should’ve remained focused on work from the start. Then she wouldn’t be in this position—torn between meeting her match and being spotted by the one man who’d tease her relentlessly for being here while making it impossible to separate this private weekend from her professional life.
“Nonsense.” Kelli waved a hand with silver rings on each finger. “Look, we’ll exchange numbers and keep in touch via text throughout the night. If it looks like our meetups are a miss, we’ll gather at the bar and drink till we can barely make it up to our rooms. And in the morning, we’ll hit the slopes!” Kelli talked while retrieving her phone from her leather purse.
There was no need for a number exchange if she wasn’t staying the weekend. But wouldn’t that be running, something she’d promised herself not to do again? With her thoughts still in a jumble she dug into her RGold clutch and pulled out her phone.
About a minute later, Kelli was all smiles once more as she dropped her phone back into her purse. “There, now we’re all set. Remember, keep in touch, and I’ll see ya in a bit.”
Desta’s response was a nod and another smile before “Okay. See ya in a bit.” Those words didn’t even sound right coming from her, but Kelli’s upbeat personality was easy to follow.
He laughed, and Desta froze. She knew that chuckle, which started in the depths of his gut and eventually burst out so anyone hearing it would fall into laughter as well. He had a very infectious personality. Maybe he was Kelli’s match?
It didn’t matter who he was here to meet: he couldn’t see her here.
Desta started to move, heading for the door. She didn’t bother to pinpoint his location in the room now. He had to be close if she could hear him laughing. Kelli would get a text from her when she got in the car, but now she had to get out of here. No way could she be seen by Maurice Gold. Her boss’s son, her coworker and the guy she routinely beat in poker when she visited his parents’ house. How totally weird would that be? Having Maurice—the consummate practical joker—find out she’d resorted to an app like Dear Lover to have a social life would definitely create awkwardness at work.
Her exit path had been clear at first, but there was suddenly a slew of people in her way, one of which was a server Desta collided with in her attempt to sidestep the crowd. She dropped her empty glass seconds before everything around her shifted into slow motion. The server’s wide-eyed shock morphed into dread as his arm shook from the impact and the tray full of champagne flutes wobbled. Mortification lodged in Desta’s chest as she watched the golden liquid sloshing over the rim of those glasses. And as if that weren’t enough to prove she’d made a mistake coming here, there was Maurice’s concerned face as he reached for the tray and easily plucked it from the server’s hand.
Slow motion switched to real time, and Maurice’s brow furrowed. “Hey, Des. What’re you doing here?”
For the first time in the five years he’d known her, Desta didn’t have a quick response. In fact, from the way she was blinking repeatedly, with her lips drawn in that straight line, which usually meant she was annoyed about something, he’d say she was either as shocked to see him as he was her or she was pissed that he was here at all.
“I’ll take that,” the server snapped before repossessing the tray Maurice had rescued.
“Sure, no problem. Glad to be of assistance.” The guy’s frown was about as much of a thank-you as he figured he was going to get. Maurice wasn’t sorry to see him go.
He was, however, still trying to figure out why Desta—the marketing director at his family’s fashion house and the most composed woman he knew—was here at a weekend meetup that, despite its advertising, was sure to be full of frolicking and fetishizing.
“You look really great in that dress.” Actually, she looked phenomenal in the short, off-the-shoulder design that could’ve been made to fit her curves specifically.
“Thanks. You look nice, too.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, holding her purse in front of her body with both hands. “And I could ask what you’re doing here as well.”
She could, and that would be just like Des—always ready with questions at any meeting or runway show and expecting quick answers. For a moment Maurice wondered how he should respond. Should he just come out and say he was there to meet the woman who’d had him jerking off in his bed too many nights to count in the past few months? Or should he come up with some other entertaining story about why he was at this ski resort, in this room, wearing the same badge...she was wearing.
“Are you registered with Dear Lover?” The surprised chuckle that followed the question barely had a chance to bubble free when he reached out and lifted her badge from where it was clipped to the top pleat of her dress.
Dear Lover 1288. He knew those numbers very well.
When he dragged his gaze back up to her face, she was directing her eyes to where his badge was boldly clipped to the lapel of his smoke-gray sports coat.
