Love, Business & Stilettos (#Wattys2016)

Chapter One (part 2)

"Now, why on Earth would I come with you?" I asked, taking several steps back in case he tried something.

"My boss, Miles Parker, asked me to bring you and your friends to his table." He said, pointing over his shoulder. I peered behind him towards a table not far from ours. My gaze darted from face to face until I located that smile. Even from a distance it ignited the fire I'd felt earlier, though the handful of cheaply dressed women surrounding him quickly doused it.

It figures.

"Oh, you have to go up there." Amara grabbed my arm.

I ignored her and turned toward Mr. Wrestle Mania. "Listen, I think I'll pass on your boss' request. It seems like he's already got his hands full."

From his raised eyebrow, he probably didn't hear that response often. I patted myself on the back.

"OK, I get that you're still upset over being dumped, but must you ruin our fun too." Amara chimed in again.

"I have no interest in joining his groupie brigade. If you want to meet him so badly, why don't you go up there?"

"Maybe I will!" She replied, trying to get around Miles' bodyguard.

"Sorry, miss, but he asked for her specifically."

Uh oh. Wrong answer.

"Excuse me? Do you know who I am?" She jumped in front of him. "I own this club! I could toss you and your philandering boss out on your asses if I wanted to!"

It wasn't funny, but she looked too much like a Miniature Pinscher screaming at a Great Dane. Their cheer-me-up mission might possibly be accomplished.

"Oh shut up, will you!" Nina spun her around while I mouthed "sorry" to the guy.

Hiding the disappointment, I scanned the crowd, trying to decipher the best way to head back. Sure, it always seemed easy. Squeeze through here or push past there, but I knew the minute we moved, everyone else would too. I'd finally decided on the least dangerous route, when I saw him.

Brendan.

Wearing a Gucci shirt I'd given him for his birthday— the only piece of his wardrobe that didn't come from Marshall's. By his side was a long-legged, wannabe model-type, though she'd likely never reach the aspiration.

"What's the hold up?" Nina leaned over my shoulder to see what was going on.

Three gasps sounded, though I was sure mine was for a different reason. My heart's reaction to seeing him was embarrassing; as if it didn't recall the tech-assisted, break-up message we'd received not two hours ago. On the other hand, my brain quickly ran through a list of legal ways to hurt him.

Nina grabbed my arm and jerked me in the opposite direction, "Keep walking."

"No! Walk right up to him so he can see how good she looks." Amara encouraged.

"In other words, be petty and stoop to his level."

"It's not petty, it's..."

The rest of their conversation registered on some level in my brain, but I didn't have the focus to keep up with it. All I could feel was the moisture forming in my palms, the steady increase of breath and the screeching voice in my brain.

Bastard! That's why you broke up with me.

"I'll...be back."

I didn't wait for their approval. With a heart thudding louder than the base, I pushed through the crowd. I fully intended to march up to him and bloody his nose, but my feet turned at the last minute and headed back to the restroom. The line was still long so I settled for resting against the wall to ease the dizziness that suddenly felt it would envelope me. This was unfair and impossible. Why in the world was I reacting this way to some jerk who could barely buy me a decent bottle of wine? Must be the rejection, I decided. No one liked being benched and replaced so easily.

"Are you alright?" A deep, sensuous voice— like fingertips caressing my spine— slid through my thoughts. I lifted my head to see Miles Parker staring down at me with his bodyguard not far behind. His outfit was simple: black Henley shirt and dark blue jeans. Still, he couldn't have been sexier if he'd worn nothing. Well, that was an exaggeration, but...

Again, that feeling in my chest.

Again, the itch to reach out and touch him. I shook my head to free myself from his hold and stood up straight.

"I'm fine. Thank you."

There, I'd said it without sounding like the star-struck teen dancing in my brain. But what was this reaction? I'd met famous people before. Plenty of them.

They weren't as edible, though.

"Are you sure you're ok?" He stepped closer.

Close enough to smell. Close enough to touch. Close enough to make me wish he'd close the space between us. As if he'd lifted the thoughts from my mind, he reached for me. My pulse quickened as I waited for the sensation of his hand against me...

"No touching, sir."

A small hand appeared and blocked his forward motion.

"If she couldn't touch, you damn sure can't." Amara said.

I glanced back as she pulled me away. His hand hovered in mid-air. His eyes smoldered as if his prize had been stolen.