The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

“You’ll be amazing,” he said, holding open the door. “You always are.”

The newspapers and blogs always carried pictures of the library lobby when it was decorated for the fundraiser, but seeing it in person was something else. Soft lighting bounced off the limestone walls that were lined with the library’s collection of Impressionist art. A quartet played classical music for those on the dance floor that was lined with Harbor City’s richest and most powerful—only a third of whom wore a mask like the one Felicia held in her hand.

“I thought it was a masked ball?” she said.

Tyler shrugged. “It is, but these aren’t exactly costume people.”

The woman in front of them in the initial crush just inside the doorway stiffened and turned around. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Tyler let out a string of curses under his breath. Then, the man who was with the glamazon in head-to-toe black who looked like she could kill a person with a well-placed insult turned around. Hudson. Of course. Felicia let out a mumbled curse of her own.

“Felicia. Tyler,” Hudson said, his jaw tight. “This is…”

Tyler cut in. “We know each other.”

“We’re neighbors,” the woman said with less than a zero point zero ounce of warmth. “He’s beneath me.”

The pieces clicked into place. Felicia glanced down. Yep. The woman was wearing perfect apartment-above-you-stomping heels so high that mere mortals got dizzy just looking at them. Plus, they probably doubled as weapons if she needed one on the quick. That was the kind of woman who was Hudson’s type. Not short ant researchers with small boobs and one-eyed cats. Her mutinous attention slid over from the woman in stilettos to the man she was with. Hudson should at least have the human decency to look like he’d been hit by a crosstown bus. Instead, he looked like he belonged on the cover of Harbor City’s Hottest Bachelors. What had she been thinking when she’d thought she could seduce him in a dressing room at Dylan’s? Her stomach bottomed out, and she wished she were anywhere in the world but here.

Hudson relaxed the tension in his jaw and offered up a blandly charming smile. “Everly Ribinski, this is Felicia Hartigan. Felicia is an entomologist specializing in the honeypot ant, and she has a one-eyed cat with the lungs of an elephant. Everly owns The Black Heart Gallery and one of the most insane shoe closets I’ve ever seen.”

This was Everly the gallery owner? Oh yeah. She could totally see that. “How lovely to meet you,” she managed to get out before turning to Tyler. “But we better keep moving. I know Tyler had someone he needed to meet.”

“Probably Satan,” Everly said with an icy smile.

Tyler just glared at the woman as Felicia steered them away from the other couple. This was a major Harbor City event. She knew she’d see him here. She’d been planning on it. Of course, that didn’t make actually seeing him after he’d turned her down flat any easier.

“Okay, something’s up,” Tyler said after swiping two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. “You might as well tell me because I’ll find out one way or another.”

What was it the nuns said in school? Confession is good for the soul? It was doubtful Sister Mary Thomas meant anything like Felicia’s love life—or lack of one—but here it went anyway. “I’ve been an idiot.”

Tyler laughed and punched her in the shoulder like a brother, which is pretty much exactly like he’d always treated her. “Now that I find hard to believe.”

“Really?” And because the fates were cruel and her Hudson radar finely tuned, she asked the question as she tracked his path across the room.

Next to her, Tyler groaned, “Not him.”

Her head said the same thing. Her body and heart? Well, they had differing opinions. “Him.”

“And here I thought you were holding out for me.”

She gulped. Okay, this was officially awkward, and she was a horrible human being. “Tyler…” The rest of whatever brilliant apology she was going to make for being a bitch died on her lips when she saw his face.

There was nothing but orneriness in his blue eyes. “Relax.” He chuckled. “I’m just giving you shit. You’re the little sister I’ve never had, and I never thought of you any other way. I just figured that Carlyle moron would have made a move by now. You’re pretty fucking fabulous.” He clinked his glass to hers.

It was nice of him to say, but she sure didn’t feel it at the moment. They stood and sipped their champagne in silence, Felicia avoiding glancing in Hudson’s direction, even though she could have pinpointed him in the room without looking his way like she was a bat or a missile guidance system or a totally miserable heartbroken moron. The crush of people in the room, the low-volume chatter that nearly drowned out the band, the constant stream of masked waiters bearing appetizers and champagne—none of it made a difference. She always knew where he was. Of course, Tyler, being Tyler, never looked away from the other man.

“Actually, it makes sense that you’d fall for him,” Tyler said. “It seemed like you two have been spending a lot of time together.”

“Only in an effort to get you and Sawyer to put an end to whatever bullshit was between you.” Shit! She smacked her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. “Forget you heard that.”

“What? Your mission of mercy?” He grinned at her and shook his head.

She let out the breath she’d been holding. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I rarely am.” He tapped a fingertip to his temple. “You forget, my business is to always know what everyone else in the room is thinking.”

Of all the— “You knew the whole time? The tickets? The dinners? And you never said anything? You are such a jackass.”