The rooftop was already decorated when they got there. It was like a scene fitting of a James Bond movie. All elegance, class, and lights. Ten or so cocktail tables surrounded by dark wooden stools were arranged around the dance floor. Twinkling lights were strung along the rooftop, creating a canopy above them, and giving the illusion of stars.

Samantha and Renee walked down the steps to the dance floor, where Phin stood waiting. He had on a tailored suit, with a white dress shirt open at the throat, and looked sexy as hell. He raked his eyes up and down his future bride, and Samantha quickly turned around, wanting to give them some sense of privacy.

They would have perfect babies. Beautiful, strong, elegant babies.

The rooftop was already packed with people, maybe forty or so, all dressed to the nines. She immediately scanned the space looking for Tristan, but he was nowhere to be seen. She took her phone out of her purse and sent him a text.

Mona: Where are you?

She waited a few seconds for a reply that never came, then tucked the phone back into her bag and began walking toward the bar. Soft music played through the loudspeakers, and people were laughing and mingling all around her. She sat down at one of the oak seats at the bar and signaled for the bartender. She felt slightly naked, having never worn something quite so revealing out in public. But she held her head high, and tried not to imagine what everyone else was thinking.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, bracing his arms on the counter in front of her.

She cleared her throat and resisted the urge to cross her arms at her chest. “A martini, please. Extra olives.”

He nodded, and she quickly turned around to look over the patio. There was a dark haired man sitting just two seats over, and she decided it wouldn’t hurt to introduce herself.

She hooked her heeled shoe on the rung of the barstool and crossed her legs. “Hi,” she began. “I’m Samantha. The maid of honor.” After all, she’d be spending the next few days with these people. She might as well get to know them.

He grinned slightly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before nodding. “Devon Montgomery,” he stated. “The bride’s cousin. We’ve met before.”

She bit her bottom lip, narrowing her eyes to get a better look. His eyes were dark, and he was very handsome, but he looked nothing like his blond haired cousin. “Devon? Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you…in, well… Since that summer you threw dirt in my ear.”

He scrunched up his nose and took a large gulp of his drink. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

She laughed. “I have a memory like an elephant. You’re pretty much screwed.”

He bit his lower lip and looked down to his feet. “I was afraid of that.”

She ginned at him, then lifted her shoulders in a “Sorry to tell ya” motion, as the bartender set her drink down before her. Devon was older—maybe by five or six years, but the last time she’d seen him he was a scrawny teenager. One both she and Renee had a crush on.

“You look…” He eyed her up and down. “All grown up, Samantha.”

She took a long sip of her Martini and smiled. “Do you live around here?” she asked, taking the cocktail stick and scraping an olive off with her teeth.

He nodded. “Manhattan, and you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m still in LA, though I’m not sure why at the moment. This city is beautiful.”

He laughed heartily, sounding exactly how she remembered him. Robust and sincere… and possibly a little bit nerdy if that was possible.

She turned in her seat to take another drink, as another man came to fill the seat between them—but she barely noticed. Because Tristan appeared on the rooftop at that exact moment.

His eyes locked on hers right away. Possessive, brilliant blue, and caused a physical reaction to form in her belly. He raked his eyes up and down her figure, then began walking down the steps toward her. He looked as though he wanted to ravish her, though she didn’t blame him. She wanted to ravage him as well. Because for every inch Tristan Montgomery lacked in polish, he made up for in pure sex appeal. He wore tight faded jeans, a tight white V-neck t-shirt, and a black blazer that somehow made his shoulders look even broader.

“Where in LA do you live?” the man who’d joined them said to her.

She turned in her seat to give him her attention. “Sherman Oaks.” She swallowed. “Are you familiar?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I was just trying to steal your attention away from whoever stole it.” He grinned. “I’m Mark, by the way. One of the groomsmen.”

She glanced down to the bar, knowing she was blushing, and downed the rest of her martini. “Samantha,” she replied.

“Ahhhh… The maid of honor. Renee has told me about you.” He held out his hand, and leaned back against the bar.

Suddenly, Samantha realized Mark was the one of the men Renee was trying to set her up with. She could see why. He was built, good looking, and had a voice like shredded sandpaper. Husky, sexy… She shook his hand.

“You’re the artist, right?” he asked then, cutting off her train of thought.

She nodded, catching a glimpse of Tristan out of the corner of her eye. He already had at least three girls around him. One a ballerina that danced in Renee’s company, a brunette who looked harmless enough, and a redheaded hussy.

“I’m a sculptor. How about you?”

“Firefighter.”

Devon leaned forward again, butting into her new conversation. “I think I remember hearing about that. What type of sculptures do you do?”

She cleared her throat, slightly thrown from watching Tristan… But then she turned around, and a sense of calmness overtook her. “Modern—yet recognizable.” She grinned. That was one of the quotes written about her work at the gallery opening. Modern—yet recognizable. She loved it. Because that’s always what she strived to be.

“I like that,” Mark stated. “Do you happen to have any images of your work?”

Her brows furrowed, and she opened her clutch to pull out her phone, but quickly remembered. “No, actually—normally I do, but my phone got wet…” But her words trailed away as she saw Tristan watching her again. “All I have with me is the piece in my room that I made for Renee—it’s their wedding gift.”

Mark took a sip of his beer, almost studying her. “I’d love to see that, later.”

She raised her eyebrows, aware he was asking to come to her room, and she shook her head. But just then the DJ’s voice sounded through the speakers, saving her from giving any sort of reply. He was calling everyone to the dance floor, beckoning them, with his arms above his head, to come closer. Samantha immediately rose from her seat, excusing herself from the two men, and weaved her way through the crowd.

The DJ was standing in the middle of the dance floor and waited until most everyone had moved closer. “Good evening, ladies and gentleman. As you all may know, we’re here to celebrate the last single days of both Phin and Renee. Untraditionally, they have decided to join their parties together, and share their last night with all of you. Every one of you is special to them, and they want you to get to know one another. So look around, say hello, and find a new best friend. To help you get started, we have a game! I have a couple of assistants walking around handing out pen and paper. Take one. Walk around the room and get to know one another. You’ll need to gather both first and last names, plus the answer to one simple question: how do they know the bride or groom? Easy, right? Though if you’d noticed, there are no clipboards provided. Get creative. Backs—or fronts, make a perfectly acceptable surface.”

A roar erupted from the crowd, and a guy across the stage ripped his shirt off and pointed to his chest.

The DJ laughed and patted him on the back. “To sweeten the pot, the person with the most correct information at the end of the night will win a prize. A two week, all-expenses paid trip to Europe, graciously donated by the groom’s parents.”

Everyone began cheering and hollering and moving around the floor.

“The clock is ticking, ladies and gentleman. You have one hour to get to know each other. Have fun.”

Samantha glanced around all the people, hating her best friend as one of the DJ’s assistants tapped her on the shoulder. The woman handed her a pen and paper, entered her information into a tablet, then smiled and nodded thanks before leaving to pass on to others. “Good luck.”

Samantha clutched the paper in her hand, scanning the room, hoping to spot Tristan, but found Mark standing right behind her instead.

He grinned and narrowed his eyes. “We have to stop meeting like this.” He teased. He then took his pen and paper, stepped around the table and placed it upon her back. “May I?”

She nodded, feeling a bit wobbly after only two sips of her Martini. “Go ahead.”

“Samantha. Is that with two M’s or just one?”

She laughed. “Just one.”

“Last name?”

“Smiles.”

“And how do you know the bride?”

She located Tristan just across the dance floor and cleared her throat. “We grew up together,” she said, suddenly feeling winded, because he was talking to a tall blond, who had her paper flat against his chest.

“Can you be more specific please?” Mark grinned.

“Hartford Grove Elementary, playground, second grade.”

His pen hit her back again, then he turned around and offered her his own. “Your turn.”

She cleared her throat, trying to concentrate, but Tristan was laughing at something the blond was saying, and that irritated her.

“Last name?” She asked Mark.

“Wahlberg.”

“And how do you know the bride and groom,” she said, completely distracted.

“We all met on the set of Boogie Nights.”

But before she could finish writing, Mark slipped out from under her paper and stood in front of her. “Okay, so who is he? Or she…? I’m open-minded like that.”

Samantha blinked a few times, unsure what he was talking about. “Excuse me?”

He raised one eyebrow. “I’m not Mark Wahlberg. But I’m flattered you believed me.”

Her eyes widened and she looked down to her paper. “Sorry, I—”

But he took the pen from her hand and began filling out his information. “Look, I told Renee it was too soon.” He scribbled some words on the paper, handed it back to her, then draped his arm over her shoulder to turn her toward the dance floor. “Is he here? The guy who’s captured your heart?”

She shook her head, feeling heat creep up her cheeks. “No. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smiled, then patted her on the backside. “Must be my imagination.” Soon he was lost in the crowd, gathering more names, and she began making her way back toward the bar. If she was going to get through this night, she was going to need more alcohol.

She introduced herself to as many people as she could along the way, collecting information until she saw Tristan heading for the bar as well.

She made a beeline, arrived first, and swiftly turned to order another drink. A hand settled low on her back a second later, and she pulled in a shaky breath, knowing it was Tristan. She turned around, finding him standing right behind her. He was clean shaven, smelled like heaven, and her heart picked up speed simply from being close to him again.

“You better leave,” she whispered, “or someone’s going to get suspicious.”

He leaned in close, so close she could feel his breath against her neck. “We just spent four days driving cross country together. If we don’t talk, people will get suspicious.”

Her pulse quickened for the second time, and she couldn’t help the smile that teased at her mouth. “You’re right.” But the alcohol had hit her harder than she thought, and she stumbled forward, requiring Tristan’s hand to catch her at her hip.

She looked up into his eyes, feeling his fingers press into her skin. “I don’t like watching girls hang on your every word. It annoys me.”

He laughed, but glanced her over from head to toe before settling his eyes on her lips. “I don’t like watching you parade around half naked when I can’t touch you.”

She laughed wholeheartedly and resisted the urge to pull him against her. “You noticed.”

His eyes heated, and he looked her up and down again. “I’m pretty sure everyone in this dammed place noticed you.”

She grinned again, moving around him to place her paper on his back. “Name please?”

His muscles tightened, and he reached around to grip her upper thigh to yank her forward. “You should know it. You were screaming it last night,” he whispered.

She bit her bottom lip. “And how do you know the bride?”

“What bride?”

She turned around to offer him her back, and instantly felt his fingers trail down the column of her spine. “What do you say we get out of here?”

She pulled in a breath, wanting nothing more, but turned around to take his paper and place it on the bar.

He frowned. “I guess that’s a no?”

She took another sip of her martini and filled out the paper. “Later,” she promised.

He leaned in close to her ear, his perfectly shaved cheek like silk against her skin. “Later.”

And then he was gone.

* * *

The game passed by in a rush. By the end of it, the agenda had been completed. Everyone was laughing and talking, and much looser than before. Samantha stood at a cocktail table by the dance floor, deliberately selecting the spot because she had a perfect view of Tristan. He was still surrounded by women, but for some reason she didn’t mind as much now. He was hers, and she knew he’d come to her the moment she curved her finger.

Mark came to stand beside her then, holding a beer in one hand, and martini in the other. “You look thirsty,” he stated, placing her drink in the middle of the table. “Are you still trying to pretend not to care about that blond dude over in the corner?”

She pulled in a breath, shaking her head, and turned to face him “I don’t know whatever you mean—”

But he winked at her, interrupting her words. He took a swig of his beer. “Samantha, your secret’s safe with me. But I find it hilarious you think no one notices.”

She bit her lip and glanced over at Mark. “Is it that obvious?”

He took another swig of beer before answering. “Yeah…it kinda is. Though don’t worry, most people are too drunk to notice—plus, they’re not as perceptive as I am.” He then stepped closer, hunching down to whisper in her ear. “But my question is this, if he could have you, why is he making out with that brunette over there?”

Samantha whipped around, her eyes finding Tristan immediately, standing in the same spot she’d left him, with a blond woman by his side. But his eyes were narrowed and focused on Samantha.

She hit Mark’s arm and shook her head. “You’re trying to make him jealous.”

Mark laughed. “Or make him realize what he’s missing. There are two sides to every coin.”

“True,” she agreed, as a deep voice broke through the music again.

Phin was up on the stage this time, his arm around Renee, and the microphone in his hand. “Now that you’ve had a chance to get to know one another, we have another game.”

The crowd erupted with laughter, and he held his finger to his mouth to shush them. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Renee and I met at the Hamilton Ballet. We’ve since moved in other directions, but the company will forever have a special place in our hearts.”

Mumbles began coursing through the crowd, and Phin motioned with his hands for them to settle down. “We’re going to play a game,” he said again. “One we learned not too long ago in an improv class and we’d like you to join us. There are only two rules.” He grinned. “One, you have to have a partner; and Two, never stop touching.”

He took Renee in his arms and started swaying. “It can be only fingers.” He turned her out, letting her travel until only the tips of their fingers connected. “Or the whole body.” He yanked her forward again, slamming her body against his, her thigh between his legs. “When the song changes, so does the person you’re dancing with. Fair enough?”

Renee grinned and took the microphone. “Couples will be eliminated as we go, so be creative and don’t let that happen.” She raised her eyebrows. “There’s a prize at the end, but you’ll have to wait to find out what it is. Have fun everyone!”