Chelsea looked over at him and chuckled. “She’s proud of him.”
He fought back the flare of lust at that knowing look she sent him. She was a friend, and she’d made it pretty clear that she wasn’t interested in a relationship. He wasn’t either—not really. He was still shuddering from Lisa’s ambush the other day. But her dress was slightly open in the front, revealing some enticing cleavage, and her ass was incredible in the spanky panties she wore underneath her teeny skirt. He was a guy. He couldn’t help it if he was aroused at the sight of a sexy woman, even if she’d friend-zoned him. “Nice outfit.”
“Thanks,” she said, gazing out on the crowd. “Borrowed it from a buddy.” She scanned the room and edged closer to him when a few guys gave her hot looks in passing. “I like your costume, too. What are you?”
“Guess.”
Her gaze moved over him, the nerdy, button-up shirt with the pocket protector he wore, the ill-fitting slacks. The slicked down hair and heavy glasses with tape in the middle. He fished a calculator out of his pocket and held it up, then gave her an expectant look. Chelsea’s nose wrinkled. “Someone from that TV show with the guys? Big Bang Theory ?”
“Wrong. I’m a mathlete.” He’d deliberately gone for something unattractive and low-key in the hopes of avoiding attention. So far, it’d been a big bust, too. He was still a little too famous for his own good, and the ladies here tonight were on the prowl.
Chelsea looked him up and down, and then began giggling behind one sports glove. “Mathlete? Are you serious?”
“What, do I not look sufficiently intelligent?” He would not be wounded by her laughter, especially not when it was so charmingly adorable. He found himself grinning at her.
“A mathlete with these guns? Please.” She put a hand on his arm and squeezed his muscles. “You’re too built.”
“I am perversely flattered and offended all at once,” he said in a lofty voice, pocketing his calculator once more.
“You should be,” she teased. Her hand still on his arm, she gave the room a worried look. “Man, it’s crowded.”
“Not a big fan of parties?” He was surprised at that. She seemed so effortlessly comfortable in her own skin.
A waiter passed by with glasses of champagne, and she deliberately turned away from him. She wrinkled her nose and looked at Sebastian instead. “It feels more like a meat market than a get-together with friends. I think I saw a Sexy Elmo earlier.”
“I think she showed up with Sexy Cookie Monster and Sexy Chewbacca.”
She leaned in close, and he noticed she smelled of cherries. “They’re stealing all my ideas. Here I’d wanted to be Sexy Chewbacca. Thank goodness I went home and changed, eh?”
He grinned. “The horror of being the same sultry Wookiee as another woman.”
“I know.” She shifted on her skates and then leaned in again, her breast brushing against his arm. “Thank goodness I wore skates. I can make a quick getaway if anyone tries to lay some moves on me.” She grimaced. “Again.”
“Let me guess, accosted as soon as you walked through the door?” He wouldn’t be surprised. Though there were girls in skimpier outfits here tonight, Chelsea looked incredible. He was pretty sure he wasn’t the only man in the room who couldn’t stop staring at her ass, black eye or no black eye.
She nodded and sighed. “It’s like you can’t wear what you want without expecting some jackass to leer at you.”
Damn. He was doing his best not to leer himself. But if she didn’t want her incredibly fine ass stared at, he’d defend her. “Want me to put an arm around you so we can be each other’s Safety Date?”
She slid her hand around his waist and looped her fingers into one of his belt loops. “That sounds incredible. Thank you, Sebastian.”
“Hey, I benefit, too. The last thing I want is Sexy Cookie Monster showing up after three champagnes and wanting me to show her my Big Bird.”
Chelsea giggled again.
He slid an arm around her waist and she sighed with contentment. “I really appreciate this, Sebastian.” She leaned her helmeted head on his arm and then looked up at him, the picture of an adoring girlfriend. It was a good fake-out. She was actually really damn good at looking attentive. “Should I call you Bastian?”
“Only if you want me to call you El-sea.”
“Sebby?”
“Chelly?”
Her snickers turned into full blown snorts of laughter. “Do you not have a nickname?”