It doesn’t make me quicken my steps.
I take my time, squeezing the arms of a few people I know as I pass them on the way. Hello, lovely to see you, oh you look wonderful, too, yes let’s get a drink, I’ll be right back.
I’ve got a confident smile painted on my lips when I finally reach Brandon, and I sidle up directly across from him, between two older gentlemen who are practically dripping drool on my arms.
“Hello, Mr. Church.”
I see the flash of fire in his eyes, the flare of his nostrils, the ticking of his jaw as he tries to soothe his breath. “Ms. Daniels.”
“I wanted to congratulate you on your nominations this evening,” I say. “I have no doubt you’ll take home the gold.”
“That’s the plan.”
“We have stiff competition, though,” the young woman next to him adds. “And once you’ve been in the game for a year, I imagine it’ll be even more so.”
I smile, reaching across the small circle to squeeze her wrist briefly. “You’re too kind, Colleen.”
Her eyes widen. “You remembered my name.”
“Of course, I did,” I say. “You work for my old agency, and for one of the best, in my opinion.” I pause, then, locking my eyes on Brandon’s. “Okay, Cool will always have a special place in my heart.”
Colleen covers her chest with clasped hands. “That’s so sweet. I will say, you’re sorely missed. Most of all by MyKayla. She talks about you all the time.”
“Ha! That reminds me, I need to get her check in the mail.”
That earns me a chuckle from the group, and just as quickly as I came, I nod and smile to each of them before excusing myself.
I hold Brandon’s gaze last, my eyes lingering, and when everyone else has turned away and back to their conversation, I take my shot.
Come and get me, I mouth.
Brandon frowns, his nose flaring again as he blinks several times like he’s trying to convince himself he couldn’t have possibly heard what he just did.
I just smile and bite my lower lip, turning slowly and making my way out of the ballroom to the hallway where the restrooms are.
When I get to the door, I look over my shoulder, my eyes catching his again.
Come on, I plead with my gaze. I know you want this just as bad as I do.
With that final bit of voodoo, I exit the ballroom, inhaling what feels like my first fresh breath now that I’m out of his fiery gaze. I keep my shoulders held back and my head high as I walk to the restrooms, but instead of going to the ladies’ room, I duck around the corner and into the one and only family bathroom tucked away from the main hallway.
When I’m inside, I blow out a breath, planting my hands on the sink and staring at my reflection. Suddenly, a laugh bubbles out of me, and I shake my head, arching a brow at myself.
“This will never work,” I say out loud, as if to hammer it home and diminish any hope I have left.
Still, I smooth my hands over my dress, touch up my hair, and stand against the wall directly across from where the door opens.
The bathroom is large, made for moms with kids, I’m sure. There’s even an elegant changing table and a royal blue velvet chaise lounge. The counter has a basket with baby wipes and powder and even deodorant and a small first aid kit.
My eyes keep flicking to the chaise.
The longer I stand there, the more my heart rate recedes, and the excitement and adrenaline I had coursing through my veins starts to slowly drain.
It must be at least five minutes since I walked in here, and he didn’t follow.
I sigh, letting my head drop back against the wall. What did I really expect? The last time I ran into him, he essentially reiterated that he hated me.
But the way he looked at me…
I swallow, shaking my head at myself as a soft laugh leaves my chest. “Stupid girl.”
And just as I’m ready to give up, to check my appearance one last time and rejoin the event, the doorhandle jiggles.
My head pops off where I’d been resting it against the wall, and my breath hitches in my throat as the gold knob turns. The wide door slowly opens, just a sliver, just enough.
Brandon slips through the opening and locks the door behind him.
God, the way the air crackles to life when that lock clicks into place.
Brandon keeps his back to the door, his hand on the knob, as if he’s one wrong look or word or move from bolting out again. His chest is already heaving, his eyes fiercely burning into mine.
But he’s just standing there.
Waiting.
As if he can’t believe he followed me, that he found me, that he knew from just one look where I was going and what I wanted.