Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
We exchange greetings, and they amble off to get drinks. Until the dinner starts in half an hour, it’s all about rubbing elbows and mingling.
For the next twenty minutes I circulate, making sure to single out every player in attendance to thank them for their time and commitment, as well as thank the donors for their contributions. A few I know personally, which means I know they can afford more than two thousand dollars a plate, so I encourage them to donate more. Sandy’s going to love me by the time this is finished.
In fact, I see Senator Marlton up on the balcony level, which holds more dining tables and another bar. I can squeeze some money out of him for sure. Lifting my dress, I traverse the stairs to the first landing, but before I can access the next flight, a hand touches my elbow. I turn to see Clay standing there, without his date. I blink in surprise and look at him inquiringly.
He steps closer as he nods over his shoulder. “Glenna’s in the bathroom. Thought I’d take a few minutes to say hello.”
I beam at him. “I’m glad. She seems nice.”
Clay shrugs. “She’s convenient.”
There’s no way I can be offended on her behalf over that statement because at one time, Clay was convenient to me, just as I was to him. He’s sticking to the same lifestyle, and I can’t blame him.
“How have you been?” he asks, tucking a hand into his slacks pocket. Clay makes his fashion look effortless with his perfectly styled hair and tailored formal wear.
“Busy,” I reply with a laugh. “But that’s nothing new, right? And you?”
“Same,” he says.
I start to ask him how the practice is doing, but the flash of a man with long blond hair catches my eye in the crowd below me, and I focus in.
Oh my God… Drake is here.
It happens every time I see him—my pulse kicks into a mad gallop. He’s wearing a tux, same as everyone else, except he ditched the tie and instead wears his white dress shirt open at the collar so his tattoos are on display. He normally wears his hair pulled back, but tonight it’s loose and wavy, framing his beautiful face. He looks amazing, and yet, I still prefer him any day of the week in his jeans and T-shirt.
Drake stops to talk to a group of players near one of the bars, and I know I should tear my eyes from him, but they seem to be stuck.
“… and it puts me in the horrible position of missing you. So yeah, Glenna is convenient, but no one compares to you.”
An electric shock has me wanting to snap my head Clay’s way and ask him what in the hell he’s talking about, but at that moment, Drake’s gaze falls on me. He has a tall pilsner glass in hand, and there’s no doubt the way his eyes lock with mine that he knew exactly where I was standing.
Across the hall, through the crowd, I can feel the heat in his stare. I was with the man less than twenty-four hours ago, and he truly wore me out last night, but I’m on fire for him again. Baden steps up beside him to talk and, almost reluctantly, Drake turns his attention to him.
They exchange a few words and then Drake looks back up to me, and weirdly, so does Baden. Drake nods, asks a question, and Baden responds.
Are they… talking about me? Has he told him about us?
“So I guess what I’m trying to get around to saying is…” Clay’s voice penetrates my fog of lust and curiosity. “Can I come home with you tonight?”
“What?” My head whips back to him. “Come home with me?”
Stepping in closer, Clay lowers his voice to a sexy rumble. “Let me come home with you, Brienne.” His hand rests on my hip and he squeezes gently. “You know it will be good. We’re fire together.”
No, we’re really not. Not the way Drake and I are.
I look across to where Baden and Drake are talking, except they’re not together anymore. In fact, Drake is walking our way having apparently ditched his beer, his eyes pointedly focused on Clay’s hand on my hip.
Oh shit. My mind goes utterly blank.
Drake hits the first stair and trots up, his eyes pinned on Clay.
Clay sees Drake approaching and his hand falls away from me, not because of any impropriety, but because he’s swinging it out for a handshake. “Holy shit,” Clay drawls as he grins. “Drake McGinn. I’m a huge fan.”
Drake’s eyes are steely as he reaches us on the landing, and I can see it in is expression that he wants to punch Clay. Instead, he accepts his hand for a shake and asks, “And you are?”
“Clay Bessel. I’m a dear friend of Brienne’s and also serve on the board for this charity.”