One to Hold (One to Hold 1)

Just then, my eyes found Patrick sitting at a large round table in the back. It was covered in a crisp, white tablecloth, and a vase of bright yellow sunflowers formed the centerpiece, corresponding with the gold décor.

Elaine’s words were just meeting my ears when my breath disappeared from my throat. “Derek Alexander is a leader in the field of online investigation. And he’s hot as hell.”

My brain scrambled as his blue eyes caught mine, and I involuntarily took a step back. “Oh,” I said softly, feeling my chest tighten at the sight of him.

There he sat, wearing a light-blue, short-sleeved polo that stretched across that chest that had been pressed against mine less than forty-eight hours ago.

“What’s wrong?” Elaine said, stepping between me and the table, studying my face.

I shook my head, attempting to breathe normally. “It’s nothing!” My voice was too high, and behind her, I saw his dark form rise to his full height. But I couldn’t look. I was afraid I might faint.

“Elaine!” Patrick’s happy voice cut through my whirlwind of emotions. “You look great.”

She beamed, turning quickly to him. “Thanks,” she said, stepping around to catch Patrick’s hand and leaving me to face the man I’d stood up the night before.

Derek’s eyes flickered with a hint of amusement and definite satisfaction. “Melissa,” he said in that low voice that rattled me to my core.

I blinked down to the table. “I didn’t know…” Actually, I had no idea what to say at this point. Nothing in my life up to now had prepared me for this situation.

Elaine stepped back around to extend her hand to him. “You must be Mr. Alexander,” she smiled.

Derek stepped forward to take her hand, then leaned in to kiss her cheek briefly. “Derek, please.”

Elaine’s eyes widened. “I love your cologne,” she said, glancing at me with knowing eyes. “What is it?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. Again, I was having difficulty breathing.

Derek laughed. “You know, I’m not sure. I transferred it to one of those plastic travel bottles for airport security a while back, and now I can’t remember.”

“It’s so familiar,” Elaine said. “Almost like something I smelled yesterday…”

He shrugged. “I rarely wear cologne, but I liked the scent. Fresh, not too overpowering.”

“But lingering,” my friend said.

She wouldn’t stop, and I wanted to die as I pulled out the chair directly in front of me. It formed an awkward arrangement—Elaine sitting next to Patrick, Derek across from me a few chairs down from them. A waiter appeared ready for our drink orders, and Derek immediately ordered a bottle of cava for the table.

“It’s a favorite, I believe,” he said, turning his blue eyes on me.

I glanced down to my lap, attempting to stop the flood of images of us together on the secret patio. Every time I looked at his face, I remembered the brush of his lips against mine, the scratch of his beard, the sensation of his chest hair against my bare nipples. I was certain the entire room could see me flush or at the very least, how fast I was breathing.

“So tell me,” Elaine said, “Are you the Derek Alexander, top internet piracy detective, ex-Marine, and former cop?”

“Police officer is the preferred terminology,” he said as the waiter appeared with a dark-green bottle. “And I’m not sure I’m the top, but I am hired to speak at conferences quite a bit.”

“Fascinating,” Elaine said, and I could feel her eyes moving to me.

I continued to study the place setting in front of me. Detective? Ex-Marine? Former cop? Great. All of those labels only complicated my situation.

The cork popped and four glasses of sparkling wine were served. Derek lifted his. “To the little things,” he said.

“Meeting up with pleasant acquaintances,” Elaine said, lifting her glass.

I brought mine to my lips and took a long drink.

“So you didn’t tell me what you do,” Patrick jumped in with his sunny voice. Everything about him was happy, and I figured Elaine could do much worse for a spa-vacation fling. Or transition guy. Unlike me, who only seemed destined for trouble.

“Mel’s a freelance marketer,” she said, nodding at me. “I teach middle school.”