***
“It’s hopeless,” I say to myself with an exasperated sigh as I lean my head on the door of the bathroom stall ten minutes later.
Or has it been twenty? Thirty?
It seems like an eternity since I ran to the ladies’ room after my gown tore.
I never should have worn this gown.
If I had at least two safety pins, this would have been manageable. But no.
As I go through the contents of my purse for the hundredth time, all I find are extra batteries and memory cards for my camera, my wallet, my phone, a small pack of tissues, the keys to my apartment, my comb, and my lipstick. That’s it. I bet not even MacGyver could do anything.
To make matters worse, I didn’t wear a bra, since this gown has only one strap and a sheer back. I am wearing bra petals, but they’re no use now, are they? I mean, they only cover your breasts from the front, not from the sides.
I don’t even have a blazer, cardigan or shrug. I usually wear one over my gown, but nope, not tonight. Tonight, I only chose to bring a thin shawl because it’s been a hot day and the air was still warm when I left my apartment.
I get off the toilet bowl and try experimenting with my shawl. I wrap it around my chest but it looks funny. I try tearing a piece of it so I can make some sort of patch, but that doesn’t work, either. The fabric of my shawl is tougher than my gown.
What’s a girl left to do?
I have only two options — go back to the ballroom with my ‘peek-a-boo’ dress and finish my job, which seems like a disaster waiting to happen, especially with Barry around, or go home. My editor, Nancy, will be mad, but hey, I can’t help it.
There’s no way I’m going back in there looking like this.
Even Cinderella in her torn after-midnight dress looked better. At least none of her private parts were sticking out.
My mind made up, I send Mattie a message. She must be wondering where I am after all.
Going home. Wardrobe malfunction. Sorry.
Taking a deep breath, I exit the stall. Mrs. Hen is there, and she throws me a curious glance then a disapproving one. What? Has she been here as long as I have?
Surely, she doesn’t think I’ve done something naughty.
Does she?
Ignoring her, I leave, one hand still under my right armpit as a first-aid measure, just to keep the tear from getting bigger and turning into a gaping hole.
Now, all I have to do is make a sharp turn and a bee line for the exit, and I’ll be out of the woods. Easy.
But then I never expected to see Nathan Landers running toward me.
Shit.
I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. The next thing I know, he’s grasping my arm and running off with me like a wildebeest on a stampede.
Suddenly, he stops, his blue eyes locking with mine so that my breath is stolen before I can catch it. With one swift move, he pushes me against the wall, his free arm above me. His lips crash down on my still-parted ones, his tongue slipping past to give me a taste of alcohol, caviar and something else I can’t quite put a finger on but find completely amazing.
Wait. Nathan Landers is kissing me?
I hear footsteps approaching and I panic. But he kisses me harder, placing the hand above me on my cheek and the other on my back, pressing my body so close to his that my breasts become pinned against his chest, heat swirling there and spreading quickly throughout the rest of my body.
Shit.
“Nathan?”
Quickly, I wrestle myself away from Nathan’s clutches, finding myself staring at the woman who has just spoken. If I’m not mistaken, she’s Cassandra Rockford. Her father is the head of Rockford Financial. Her brother is a senator.
Not someone you want to mess with, and yet, here I am, on the receiving end of her scathing glare that reminds me of Medusa’s.
Stomping her feet like a spoiled little girl who just lost an argument about whose doll was prettier, she leaves. Off to Daddy, no doubt.
Uh-oh.
“Don’t worry about her,” Nathan assures from behind me. “She’s harmless, all bark and no bite.”
Maybe it’s the smug tone of his voice. Maybe it’s the way he just talked about another woman. Or maybe the realization that he just used me has begun to sink in. Whatever it is, the words bring me back to my senses. I whirl around, lifting my hand to slap Nathan but stop when I hear more fabric tearing.
“Shit.”
“Oops.” Nathan glances at my gown. “That doesn’t sound good.”
I frown. “This is your fault, you know. If you hadn’t just dragged me off and kissed me…”
“You’re welcome.”
I glare at him. “What did you just say?”
“You seem like you enjoyed the kiss,” he says as he leans on the wall.
I blush, covering my face. Was it that obvious?
“Seems like you needed it, too.”
The nerve.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” I wipe my lips with the back of my hand. “If you don’t want to go out with a woman anymore, you should just tell her, not hurt her like this.”
“Oh. Is that what’s bothering you?” Nathan takes a step forward, all six feet of him towering over me. “You’re sweet. You know that?”
I scoff. “Your pretty words are wasted on me.”
“Are they?”
He gazes into my eyes, the warmth and interest — dare I call it desire? — evident in his drawing me in, putting me under a trance. I look away.
“Like I said, don’t worry about Casey,” he says. “She’ll be fine. Besides, you have bigger things to worry about, don’t you?”
I glance at the hole in my gown. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. At this rate, I’ll be going home in rags.
“You know what?” He touches his chin. “I’m pretty sure I have one in my room upstairs. Executive Suite.”
“You have a gown?” I feel confused.
“I have everything a woman needs.” He starts walking toward the elevator. “Are you coming or not? Of course, if you’d rather go home like that and give the driver a treat, you’re welcome to do so. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. Maybe he’ll even give you a discount.”
Nope. He’s neither a lion nor a wolf. He has no honor.
He’s a despicable raccoon.
“Well?”
The elevator doors open, and I make my choice. I have no choice, really. I rush into the elevator and he follows, the wide grin on his face making me feel like cornered prey.
What have I gotten myself into?