I couldn’t explain why, but I didn’t like the idea of leaving Chelsea by herself. It wasn’t a possessive thing, but more that I had a bad feeling about it for some reason.

I shook off the feeling, chalking it up to me simply being a bit nervous at the possibility of her turning down my offer. The more I thought about it, the more I knew she’d be perfect for the job.

The only issue was her constant, maddening lack of self-confidence. It was strange—she was talented and brilliant and capable, not to mention headstrong, but when it came to putting skin in the game, she always seemed to hold back.

But there was no rushing her into the decision. She was either going to agree to it or not, and I had to respect her wishes either way. Still, I knew where I stood on the issue.

Inside the apartment, I was taken over by the urge to get some alone time of my own. I ordered myself another drink after I weaved through the gathering, putting in my pleasantries when necessary.

Drink in hand, I surveyed the scene. I couldn’t go out onto the balcony, what with Chelsea being out there. Then I remembered that Martin had an amazing little terrace just outside of his bedroom.

“Martin,” I said. “Do you mind if I check out your terrace? I remember the view being amazing from up there.”

“Sure, kid,” he said. “Just don’t go rooting around in my underwear drawer while you’re up there.”

He gave me a hearty slap on the shoulder. I ascended the spiral stairs leading to the second floor and made my way down the wide hallway. However, once I reached his bedroom, I noticed something strange.

The door was open. Someone was in there already.

Martin’s wife was downstairs, so I knew it wasn’t her.

I stepped up to the door quietly and peeked in. Sure enough, I could see the figure of someone in there, a woman. Her shapely form was shrouded in darkness, and she was humming a bright tune that slipped out of key in only the way a more-than-slightly drunk person would do.

“Hello?” I asked, opening the door enough to enter.

“Oh!” came a bright, feminine voice.

The figure whipped around, blonde hair bouncing all around her face.

It was Felicity. Her blue eyes were wide with shock, her ruby-red lips in a big round “O.” She was in the process of trying on a very expensive-looking dress, the top pulled up in front of her ample breasts.

“Oh my god!“!” she shouted out into surprise.

“Damn, calm down,” I said. “It’s just me.”

Relief washed over her face.

“Bryce, darling,” she said, “you gave me an awful fright.”

“If you didn’t want anyone coming in and scaring you, then you should’ve shut the door behind you.”

“I couldn’t have possibly—” she said.

I stepped away from the door, letting her see that it was cracked open.

“Oh my goodness,” she said. “The bubbly must’ve gone to my head more than I was expecting.”

“You want to tell me what you’re doing up here?” I asked.

“What,” she said, “are you pulling security duty too?”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be such a Boy Scout. I told Martin I was feeling a little light-headed and that I needed some air, and he mentioned the balcony in his bedroom and told me to come up here for as long as I needed.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re wearing someone else’s dress,” I said.

“Well, funny story, that. As I came up here I saw that one of the closets was still open. And inside were some of the most gorgeous dresses that I’d ever seen. Turns out they were Martin’s wife Emily‘s. She’s a bit on the young side, if you haven’t noticed, and we’re actually the same size. I couldn’t resist having a little fashion show.”

Before I could say a word, she turned around revealing the fair expanse of her back, the dress zipper undone.

“Do you mind?”

“Do you?” I asked. “You think Emily’s going to be happy if she finds you up here wearing her clothes?”

Felicity rolled her eyes.

“Please,” she said. “That girl’s got so much vodka in her that she likely doesn’t even know what planet she’s on. Now, would you?”

“I will if you change back into your own clothes afterward.”

Her pretty features formed into the bratty pout I’d seen so many times when we were dating.

“Fine, fine,” she said. “Just come on and do it.”

I set my drink down and stepped over to her. As I got close, I noticed the familiar, lilac scent of her perfume. I took hold of the zipper and drew it up slowly, Felicity wiggling her butt with excitement as I did so.

Once the zipper was up she turned around, an excited expression on her face.

“Well,” she said, “what do you think?”

She placed her hands on her waist and cocked her hips to the side. The dress was nice, no doubt about that. It was a dark red, the fabric hugging Felicity’s curves. And her breasts looked about ready to pour out of the thing.

“Looks like it was made for someone who wasn’t nearly as busty as you,” I said, lifting my gaze and stepping back.

“I don’t know if you’re intending that as a compliment, but I’m choosing to take it as one.”

“It was intended as a statement of fact.”

Felicity flicked on the light over the three-sided mirror, posing herself this way and that.

“Oh, Ducky,” she said. “Doesn’t this remind you of all the nights we spent getting ready for parties in London and Hollywood?” She sighed contentedly. “Those were some good times we had,” she said. “Sometimes I find myself missing them.”

“What,” I said, “you don’t have Hunter to drag to your awards parties?”

“I do, but he’s no fun,” she said. “He has his charms, but…” She took in a deep breath, her breasts pushing out. “Oh well,” she said. “The past is the past. And you‘re…you’re…you’re married!”

“Not married,” I said. “Engaged.”

“Which means you’re all but married,” she said. Then she turned to me, a coy expression on her face. “Gets a girl thinking, you know?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Here,” she said, turning back around. “I’m ready to be a good girl now. Help me out of this thing, would you?”

I reached forward and jerked the zipper down.

“Ducky,” she said, turning to face me, a sultry look on her face. “I suppose there is an important distinction between ‘married’ and ‘engaged.’ The key point being that you’re still free to have some fun.”

Before I had a chance to say a word, Felicity slipped her thumbs into the dress on both sides of her breasts and slowly took it down. She first revealed her red bra, then the smooth, flat expanse of her stomach, then the matching red thong she had on underneath.

“What do you think?” she asked. “You miss all this?”

It was strange. The body on display before me was about as perfect as they come. And it was a body that I was intimately familiar with. As Felicity stood before me for the taking, however, I didn’t feel a thing.

Actually, that was wrong. I did feel one thing—annoyance.

“Come on, Ducky,” she said. “Just a little tumble for old time’s sake.”

I glanced over at the bed where a few dresses had been laid out.

“Which one of these is yours?” I asked.

“What?” she asked, a slight shock to her voice.

“I said, ‘which one of these dresses is yours’?”

“That one,” she said, pointing toward the light blue dress in the middle.

I reached over and grabbed it, handing it over to Felicity. She took it, looking down at the thing in confusion as though I’d just handed her a book in Greek and asked her to start reading from it.

“You’re serious?” she asked.

“Serious as a heart attack,” I said.

Her expression turned from surprise to one of indignation, that bratty, I-can’t-believe-I’m-not-getting-what-I-want look that I’d found so not at all charming when we were a couple.

“I’m offering myself to you, and you’re saying no?” she asked. “But why?”

“Says a lot about you that you’d ask something like that to an engaged man.”

“You know what?” she asked, stepping into the dress and pulling it up over her body. “I don’t even care. You want that dull-as-dishwater computer geek? You can have her.”

“Thanks for understanding,” I said, a trace of sarcasm on my voice. “Call Hunter up here if you need the zipper pulled up on that one.”

I left the room, picking up my drink on the way out.

As I stepped back into the hallway and raised my drink to my lips, I thought again about how strange it was that turning Felicity down had been so easy. I could’ve easily taken her up on her offer—it’s not like I actually was engaged.

But Chelsea had a hold on me, one that I couldn’t figure out. What had started out as a scheme had turned into something more right underneath my nose.

And I was horny as hell—but not because of Felicity. Well, maybe inadvertently. Watching her peel that dress off had only reminded me of the night of that first party, when I’d gotten Chelsea home after all that wine and pizza and stripped her down to her bra and panties, claiming her, making her mine.

I stepped back down onto the main floor, scanning the crowd for Chelsea. After a few seconds of looking, I spotted her. She was doing the same, her eyes darting around. Once she found me an expression of relief came over her. The two of us made a beeline for one another, throwing our arms around each other when we were close.

I couldn’t help myself. I brought her to me and kissed her hard—I didn’t care who was looking.

“I think we need to get out of here,” I said softly into her ear.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”