Later That Night

Francesca looked hot as hell. She’d dressed to impress, as usual.

And, as usual, she garnered quite a bit of attention. At least I thought she did.

I honestly wouldn’t know. I was too busy staring down Aly and her date. My blood had settled into a steady simmer inside my skin. The kind of simmer that could roll over to a boil at the slightest provocation.

Sipping my Old Fashioned, I watched him put his hands on her. Touch her arm. Twine his fingers with hers. He said something. She threw back her head and laughed. She was trying hard with him. Too hard.

Why?

The bourbon was not helping. Neither were the heels she’d put on when the party started. They lengthened her calves. Made the indent between the muscle and shinbone harden in the mind-fuckiest way possible.

Why’d she have to do that?

I was being a tit. I knew that. I had no right to feel this way. Aly wasn’t mine to watch like this. We’d had our fun together, and then that fun had ended. But I couldn’t help wishing it was my joke she was laughing at. My hand on her waist. My name on her lips.

I didn’t get it—why I was feeling this way. Aly was exactly the sort of girl I stayed away from.

Exactly the sort of girl I’d crush.

Had to be her legs. Her rack. Or maybe her laugh. In a room full of Kit’s glamorous friends, she stood out. And it was bloody killing me that someone so luminous would settle for the B-movie version of Gordon Gekko.

From the corner of my eye, I saw my sister Jane set her drink on the table beside me.

She elbowed me softly. “You know that murder is illegal in this country, right?”

“What?” I blinked.

“The daggers in your eyes.” Jane nodded at Philip. He was handing Aly a fresh cocktail. Wanker. “You’re aiming them at his head.”

“Right between his eyes, as a matter of fact.” When I saw that Jane was not amused, I cleared my throat. “I was just, uh…joking. Heh.”

Jane crossed her arms, her voice low when she spoke. “Just so you know, Kit told me to keep an eye on the two of you. You and Aly.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I said, bristling. “She and I are just…friends, I guess. Not even—we’re acquaintances.”

Jane searched my face. I tugged at my collar.

“Is that why you’re looking at her date like you want to stab him? I met Philip. Seems nice enough.”

I shook my head. “He’s the worst.” Jane shot me a look. “I mean, yeah, I’m sure he’s nice. But he’s also the worst. Something about his hair…it looks like a helmet. A stupid, shiny helmet.”

She put a hand on my chest. “I say this as a friend, Rob. But be smart here, okay? Stop being a stalker and go hang out with your date. Although if I’m being honest, I’m not crazy about your pick.”

On cue, Francesca’s voice cut through the noise in the room. She was by the bar, her drink sloshing all over the place as she gesticulated wildly to a group of our mutual friends. I cringed. Maybe Jane was right. I’d only ever been with Francesca in bed, or at clubs or bars. Places where the music and the crowds were so loud, and the people were so drunk, I’d never noticed how—er—big her personality was. Honestly, I didn’t know Francesca much at all.

I was starting to regret taking Aly up on that plus-one.

I brought my drink to my mouth. But when I looked down at the half-empty glass, I hesitated. If Francesca was on the piss, I should probably take it easy. I didn’t want to ruin Kit and Emily’s party. I knew how hard Aly had worked to make it perfect.

“I’ll handle it,” I said, setting my glass on a passing waiter’s tray.

“Rob.” Jane’s hand was still on my chest. “Aly is a lovely woman. But don’t confuse a bruised ego with real feelings for someone, okay?”

Jane was right. She’d been through a lot, relationship-wise, so I trusted her to know what she was talking about. That’s all this was—a bruised ego. Tell me I couldn’t have something, and I wanted it all the more. I’d been that way since I was a kid.

I just wish this bruise would fucking heal already.

“Okay,” I said.

I made a beeline for Francesca.

* * *

Philip was by my side all evening. He laughed at all my jokes and politely chatted up my friends. Sure, his conversation wasn’t always the most interesting. He talked about the trading floor a lot. Like, a lot a lot. But he was still being the perfect date. I kept waiting for the rest of the room to fall away. Kept waiting for butterflies, the kind that overtook every other feeling and concern and left me in thrall to Philip’s charm.

And the butterflies did come. But only when I caught Rob looking at me from across the room. His blue eyes flickered with softness and heat, even as a muscle in his jaw ticked. In annoyance, maybe? Chagrin? He looked equal parts Romeo and Cersei Lannister at her bloodthirstiest. I didn’t know an expression like that was even possible.

I made it a point to ignore him. I was here with Philip, and Rob was here with his trainwreck of a date.

Even so, I was hyperaware of Rob’s presence. Where and when he moved. I felt his eyes on my face as he stood near a table with his sister. Felt the temperature in the room dip when he stepped out onto the terrace with his date. Sensed him standing just outside the windows behind the sofa, the familiar sound of his laughter muted.

It had been an exhausting day. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew my feet hurt, and the underwire in my strapless bra was cutting into my side. But I felt awake. Alive. The kind of excited you get when you discover the cute guy you’d spotted earlier at the bar is looking at you.

Em and Kit had come over to talk to Philip and me. They seemed to be having a good time; so far, the party was a success. Their thanks and praise was effusive. I appreciated it, really, I did. Still, I found myself glancing over my shoulder out the window. Rob was there, along with his brother Jack and a few of their friends. He had an unlit cigar in his mouth and a lighter in his hand, thumb poised over the strike. The pose was handsome. Self-assured. So him.

He flicked the lighter and bent his neck, the flame illuminating the masculine lines of his face. He drew on the cigar to light it, one puff, then another, squinting against a plume of smoke. I imagined I could smell the rich, earthy scent of the tobacco. Feel the pleasant sting of smoke in my nose.

As if he could sense me looking, Rob turned his head. Our eyes collided through the window. He was still squinting, and somehow that made his gaze all the more intense.

I looked away. Philip’s arm was around my waist; he squeezed my side with his fingers.

“You all right?” he murmured. “You look a little flushed. Shall I get you some water?”

I blinked and met his eyes. Like an asshole, I’d completely forgotten he was here. I’d come to this party with a super great date, but here I was, pining for the playboy prince who was the opposite of everything I was looking for.

I shoved Rob from my thoughts. Mind over matter. I just had to focus more on Philip, that’s all. Just had to remember what a dick Rob had been the other day.

Smiling at Philip, I said, “I’d love that, thanks.”

The second he was gone, Emily’s eyes snapped to my face.

“What?” I said.

“Nothing. Just Philip. He’s…nice.”

Kit held up his hands. “And that’s my cue to leave.” He wandered over to another group of people, letting Em and I have our privacy.

Privacy I desperately needed but didn’t want. Em could read me like a book, and I wasn’t exactly proud of how I was feeling at the moment.

I gulped at the watery remains of my gin and tonic.

“He is nice,” I said. “Really, really nice.”

“So nice.” She was still eying me. “You sure you’re into him?”

I speared her with a glare. “Of course I’m into him!”

Emily raised an eyebrow in reply.

“Look. He’s responsible,” I said, counting off his attributes on my fingers. “He takes me on great dates. Shows up when he says he will. He and I—we’re the same, you know? We’re both into our careers. We want similar things.”

“All of that is true. Doesn’t mean you’re into him, though. None of that stuff accounts for chemistry. Or fun.”

“I’ve had my fun,” I sniffed. “And now I’m ready for more.”

“More can be fun, too, Aly. You don’t think you’re selling yourself a little short?”

“No.” My reply was so forceful I think it surprised us both. “I’m not selling myself short. I’m looking for the guy who’s going to be part of my happily ever after. Chemistry is a part of that, sure. But so is compatibility. Romance. Shared goals.”

I wanted to add—but didn’t—that sometimes the least likely guy became your leading man. Like in Clueless, when Cher finally came to her senses and gave Josh a chance. Or when Bridget Jones chose Colin Firth’s dorky but earnest Darcy over Hugh Grant’s foppish playboy. I just had to be patient with Philip.

Emily sighed. “Okay. I just—as your friend, I feel like it’s my duty to be honest with you, even when it hurts. You were honest with me about Kit, remember?”

“I do,” I said. I didn’t regret it, either. Kit and Em may have been genuinely, deliriously in love now. But their engagement had started out as a sham—a ploy to distract the press from Princess Jane’s divorce. I’d thought the whole thing was a bad idea from the beginning. My fears weren’t entirely unfounded. Emily had to go through hell and back again to get where she was now; she’d already gone through a horrible divorce herself, and I hadn’t wanted her to get hurt again. I was glad, though, that the happily ever after she’d found had ultimately proved me wrong.

She put a hand on my arm. “After my divorce, I didn’t think I deserved an excellent guy either. Luke made me feel like such shit about myself. But I’m telling you, Aly—we all deserve excellent. Not nice, or good, or even really good. Excellent. Don’t you dare settle for less.”

My throat inexplicably tightened. I looked away. Watched as Philip scooped ice into a glass and filled it with water. The face of his watch caught the light as he moved, blinding me.

“Nobody’s perfect,” I said, blinking.

“Excellent is not the same thing as perfect. Of course nobody’s perfect. But I do believe people can be perfect for each other.”

I looked at her from the corner of my eye. “Awfully deep thoughts for a Saturday night, Oprah.”

Em sighed. “I love that woman.”

“Me too. I miss her, you know? Like, being in the same country as her. There was something so comforting about that.”

“Maybe we can convince her to buy a place in the U.K,” she said, grinning.

“And maybe I can design it.”

“I’ll have the Queen put in a good word,” she teased.

Philip returned, pressing the water into my hand. He opened his mouth, clearly about to say something, when a commotion erupted by the set of doors that led out onto the terrace.