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Surely nothing terrible would happen. Maybe she'd look like an idiot for a minute or two, but that wouldn't be anything so out of the ordinary.
There weren't too many men around who hadn't already flocked to Shay's side, but there were enough. She fixed her sights on the tallest of them, a broad-shouldered guy who, even from the back, looked almost certainly like a pro athlete. Just what she needed.
She unbuttoned the top of her blouse, spread the lapels apart, and then, looking at her naked flesh, re-buttoned it. Skin that pale might blind someone. Besides, he'd hardly notice that much skin. She reached for her bun, but left it. Letting it down would probably be more messy than sexy.
Makeup might have done the trick, but even if she owned more than the general brown eyeliner-beige eye shadow combo, she sure as hell didn't have any on her right now. She hadn't even brought a bag with her. Flicking furiously through her mind for ideas, she remembered an old movie she'd seen where the heroine had bit her lips to make it look like she was wearing lipstick. That didn't sound half bad. It might hurt a little, but it could totally work.
With a deep breath, she marched toward her target, biting hard on her lower lip, then alternating to the top until they both pulsed and stung. The tears welling in the corner of her eyes might have been an unfortunate side effect, but the benefit would likely outweigh the cost. For good measure, she pinched her cheeks between thumb and forefinger, making sure to catch every little area she could.
Easy, breezy, beautiful—
"What the hell are you doing?" Her target turned around and her heart thudded directly into her shoes.
Busted, girl.
Logan Grant. Her brother's best friend, world-renowned catcher extraordinaire, and subject of nearly every dirty thought she’d had for a decade.
Slowly, she released her cheek from her pincer-grip and let her hand rest awkwardly by her side. "Hey, I, uh, I thought I had something on my face."
Egg, probably.
She swallowed, gulping down her heart along with her deep, all-consuming shame.
"A bee sting, by the looks of it," he said.
Andy stood corrected. Her shame had not been swallowed. Oh no, it was alive and kicking, forging forward with Napoleonic force to take over her whole body. At the moment, it was spreading from her sinking stomach to her now-burning cheeks.
She cleared her throat and did her best to rally. What did normal people do in these situations? What would Shay do? Straightening her shoulders, she went on, "I think you missed the part where you said how happy you are to see me. It's been a while."
Logan shrugged, the same way he did in every magazine spread he'd ever graced, but he managed to offer her a half smile all the same. And even though it looked so nonchalant he probably hadn’t noticed it, the little gesture still made her heart flip over in her chest.
Damn him.
She swore she wouldn't do this. Wouldn't "run into" him tonight. She felt like she was in college again, staring at him from the stands at Matt's spring training and doing her best not to drool. Why, of all the guys on every team Matt had played for, did Logan have to be the one to stick around?
And how had she not recognized him? She’d spent nearly a decade fantasizing about that backside, those broad shoulders, his always-laughing eyes…
Her pity party was interrupted when Logan spoke again. "You're right, Andy. I'm happy to see you. How the hell did you get in here, though? It's invite-only."
"I have the newest sports agency in town." She worked her most confident expression, but suspected that it looked more like constipation than triumph. Classic Andy.
"Oh yeah? What's it called?" He folded his muscular arms over his barrel of a chest and she was tempted to close her eyes, if only to focus on his question long enough to answer it. Why did he have to do that when they were talking? Move like that?
Breathe like that?
"We’re A&M Sports Management,” she answered.
"Never heard of you." The girl he'd been talking to leaned in and whispered something, eying Andy as she went, but when Logan shook his head, she scampered away.
Andy didn’t have to guess what that was all about. The woman had probably asked if Andy was some former lover, and Logan had politely held back his urge to gag or laugh or both.
After all, in a place this big, any woman on his arm would have to expe
ct to run into at least five supermodels who’d once been exactly where they stood—and that wasn’t even counting the one-night stands.
Andy frowned, trying desperately to keep herself focused. What had they been talking about?
Ah, yes. The business. "We're a new firm."
