Quickie

“Oh my god,” Elizabeth says.

I look again, and really look. I can see why Naomi called him Tall, Dark, and Delicious. Wavy dark hair that’s just a little too long, and sharp features that carry even from across the room. My imagination takes over, and I can see us together, tangled in the dark and panting. A sharp need lances through me, and the actual possibility of this hits me. If he is deciding whether to come over, I want to make sure I look okay. “I’m going to the bathroom for a touch-up,” I say, standing and making my way from the table before anyone volunteers to come with me.

My gut tells me I need a few seconds alone to evaluate this. Sure, he’s hot. I can see that from across the room. But am I ready for a one-night stand? I touch up my lipstick in the mirror, savoring the few moments of quiet; the club’s music is muffled in here. Confidence comes, swift and sudden. Why shouldn’t I be ready? Wyatt didn’t even give me the courtesy of breaking up with me before he moved on. Why should I observe some kind of ridiculous mourning period over a relationship that was clearly broken? Fuck Wyatt. Maybe Naomi’s right and I do need to get laid. And maybe Mr. Delicious is just the man to do it.

Wyatt never would have let me do this—Vegas. The thought of me in Vegas without him would have driven him crazy. He barely liked me to go out with Anna, always asking who I was really with and sometimes showing up unexpectedly. He had nothing to be jealous of, though. I never cheated, and I’m not exactly the party girl type. Maybe I’ve been missing out. Defiance rises in me like a tide. I think I should go out and have some fun, if only to prove to that asshole that he’s an idiot. I suppose I should hope that he makes Laura happy, but I’m not a big enough person to feel that right now. Maybe I’ll get to the place where I can. Right now, I just want to kick him in the balls. Repeatedly.

Sweeping on a little more mascara, I give myself one final look over. I adjust my dress a little, but there’s nothing else I can see that’s wrong. My girls and I did a good job in our hotel rooms tonight. I look good.

I come out of the bathroom and freeze. Mr. Delicious is sitting at our table. In my spot. If I’m going to sit back down, we’re going to be squeezed together. Which Naomi probably suggested. I approach the table slowly, and Anna sees me first. There’s a big smile on her face as she yells, “Welcome back!” The mystery man turns, and…

Holy hell.

Naomi was all kinds of right. This man is candy. I could tell he was gorgeous from across the room, but up close, he’s fierce and powerful. The suit he’s wearing is sculpted to him, emphasizing broad shoulders and a powerful chest. And his eyes…dark and deep and focused right on me. Heat flows through me and I swear time stops for a second. Or at least it feels that way. Naomi leans over to him and says, “This is Sandy.”

There’s a flash of heat in his eyes, and he extends a hand to me. “Hello Sandy. I’m Wilcox.” That voice is caramel smooth and I wish I could be wrapped up in it forever. It’s probably just the alcohol, but damn.

I meet his hand with mine and he pulls it toward him, pressing his lips to it. Tingles fly up my skin and– oh god– I never thought a kiss on the hand could feel that intimate. Wow.

There’s a tiny smile playing around his lips. “I seem to have taken your seat.”

“Yes, you have.”

“We could share if you like.”

He’s still holding my hand, and it’s very distracting. “You want me to sit in your lap?”

Behind him, Anna and Naomi are making screaming faces and are desperately gesturing at me to do it. Elizabeth looks less sure. Wilcox only smirks. “I’ve been told it’s pretty comfortable. I can provide references if you like.”

I tilt my head, returning his smirk. “You’re going to provide the phone numbers and email addresses of the other women you’ve held on your lap to convince me? Doesn’t seem like the best first move.”

He laughs, a rich, throaty sound that does interesting things to my body. “I was actually going to suggest my niece and nephew. It’s their favorite place to sit whenever I’m available.”

“Well,” I say, blushing. “If it’s good enough for them.”

I’m not exactly sure how to sit in someone’s lap considering I haven’t done it since kindergarten. Wyatt never liked that kind of cuddling. I lean down and perch on Wyatt’s knee. It’s awkward and not exactly comfortable, but there’s no way I can just stand in these heels.