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This was a bad idea.
Yes. Yes, it was.
Time to abort mission.
I whip around, preparing my retreat, when I face-plant into the person behind me. “Ouch,” I whine, holding my nose.
“Slow down there, Cinderella. It’s not midnight yet. Where you running off to?”
My eyes lift up. And up. Jesus, and up, until they lock on the barrier I just ran into. My pupils dilate at the dark shade of blue of his eyes. My shortness of breath weakens my knees, and I feel a sudden flush in my cheeks at his hard features—tight jaw, full lips, and hair like a God, thick, and dark, and set in stone, with no strand out of place. He’s dressed in a tuxedo like the rest, but the way he wears it has my stomach fluttering. What in heaven’s name is wrong with me? My knees actually do buckle then, and he reaches forward, securing his large hand around my bicep. A low chuckle flows from his lips, and goosebumps wash down my legs.
“See something you like?”
“Who?” I reply, confused.
He laughs again. “You look like something or someone caught your attention. Where were you running away to? Is there someone I can help you find? Your date possibly?” His voice tickles the insides of my thighs. A wave of dizziness washes over me again. I wish I would have eaten more than a pack of M&M’s today.
“You two going to move?” a voice behind us asks, and I realize we’re holding up the line. I clear my throat, brushing my sweaty palms down my gown.
“Sorry. Low blood sugar,” I lie. Dare I admit a complete stranger just had me losing my wits? I turn forward, moving up in the line. “And no date. Just here to have a nice evening.” A nice evening? His low laugh confirms exactly what I think: I’m an idiot. Probably why I’m still single.
“You’re pretty dressed up for a night alone.”
Great. Way to point out that I’m also a loser. “Yeah…well, so are you. I see no date for you either. What are you, the entertainment? Didn’t know they allowed strippers at such an elite event.” I squeeze my eyes tight. Stripper? Shut up, Addy.
His breath hits my earlobe, startling me. More goosebumps pop up along my skin. “Maybe I’m also here for a nice evening, hoping to find a nice girl to keep me company.” I’m embarrassed at my audible intake of breath. I bite my lower lip and take a wide step forward to remove him from my personal space. No one has ever been so brash with me, and I’m not understanding the reaction my body is having. Do I hate it? Love it? Am I losing my mind because I’m not sensing stranger danger? This is how young girls get suckered and drugged. They’re called pretty, and one drink later, they’re violated and dumped in an ice bath with a missing organ or two.
I shake my head and let off a sarcastic snicker.
Thankful for the reality check, I press my lips together and turn to face him. I suck in another quick breath. Holy heck is he handsome. I throw in a frown for effect and say, “Then you should hurry up and get inside. I’m sure someone is lonely enough to find comfort in your tacky pick-up lines. But I’m not interested. Good evening—”
“Logan.”
“Huh?”
“Logan. My name’s Logan. You were going to wish me a good evening.”
Good gracious, if I were anything but a scared mouse trying to find its hidey-hole right now, I’d ask him for more than just his name. Focus, Addy. In and out. “Great, but I didn’t ask. Good luck with that mystery girl you plan on sinking your teeth into.”
Shut. Up. Right. Now.
He laughs as I slam my eyes shut, wishing away my last comment. I whip forward, tugging my dress with me. I do my best to ignore him, but my body still feels him too close. He doesn’t say another word, and when I get to the front of the line, my misplaced nerves are no longer on the stolen invitation, but on the beast of a man behind me.
“Good evening. Welcome to the AMA Gala. May I see your ticket?”
“Oh, ticket? I actually have this…” I hand over the shimmery invitation and stare at him, waiting for any sign I’m going to need to run. His eyes scan over the card stock. A forced smile crosses his thin lips as he eyes me suspiciously. “Welcome, Ms. Vaughn. I hope you enjoy the events this evening. Make your way into the presidential lounge where the private event is being held.”
I quickly nod, grab the invitation he hands back, and step forward past the entrance, sighing a huge breath of relief. Now, get in and—
“Wait, Ms. Vaughn…” I keep walking, not registering the name until he calls out my first name. “Francesca?”
