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“Not really,” he said. “I want to see Roddy play.”
It was the first time that Drew had looked her straight in the eyes since that disastrous evening last week, and the blazing directness of his gaze was almost jarring.
She let out a careful breath. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the club. I’ll be there around nine thirty.”
The waiter brought his card back. Drew got up, gave each of them a businesslike peck on the cheek and left, already focused on whatever came next in his busy day.
Jenna watched him walk away, feeling flat and dull. It had been over a week since that disaster after their dinner date. A stressful, chaotic week jam-packed with activities calculated to jack up Arm’s Reach’s media profile. She was exhausted, and her work was suffering... But that wasn’t the real problem, and she couldn’t convince herself that it was.
She’d come to dread seeing Drew. But the problem wasn’t because of anything he said. It was what he didn’t say. He was unfailingly polite and pleasant. Attentive, thoughtful, gallant. No one could fault him.
He was wearing a perfect-fiancé mask. But now that she’d seen the man beneath, the mask almost offended her. Being kept at arm’s length felt like a punishment.
Not that she blamed him. Not in the least. She’d demanded herself that he pull back. And that didn’t help worth a damn.
On the contrary, it made things worse.
It had been a long time since Drew had seen the inside of a club, but he paid no attention to the strobing lights, the pounding music or the crush of people. People tried to catch his eye, male and female, and he ignored them, having become a ruthless and single-minded scanning-for-Jenna machine. He roved through the place, sensors tuned to her and only her. Scanning for that mane of bright hair, either floating high in an explosive updo or bouncing in a cloud around her head. Cat-eye glasses. The glint of clear bright hazel eyes. Those high cheekbones. That elegant posture. That perfume.
No way could he hear her sweet-toned, sexy voice in this noise, but his ears still strained for the sound of it.
A different band was playing at the moment, not the Vicious Rumors. Roddy wasn’t onstage yet. The warm-up band was winding up their last big head-banging number. Still no sign of Jenna. He glanced at his phone again. Still no messages from her.
He started another circuit, cruising the place again from the top, room by room.
Yes.A blaze of yellow light had caught her hair, lighting it up like a flame. He fought his way closer. She was wearing a tight, tailored blue coat, a black wool mini-skirt and those ass-kicking boots.
Next to her was a blazing crest of pink and purple. Cherise, talking excitedly. As he approached, Cherise threw her arms around Jenna’s neck and hugged her, pounding her with the prosthetic arm. Which was now decorated by long threads of little lights inside flexible plastic tubes wound artistically around it.
Cherise saw him over Jenna’s shoulder and waved excitedly, yelling into Jenna’s ear. Jenna turned around and caught sight of him.
Bracing himself never worked. He couldn’t get used to the rush it gave him to lock eyes with her. The contact seemed to touch him everywhere. Suddenly, he was turned on.
Exactly what she did not want or welcome from him.
“Hey.” He greeted them both with a polite nod. From a safe, secure distance.
Cherise was having none of that. She lunged for him and wrapped him in a big hug.
“Drew!” she crowed into his ear. “You are the bomb!”
“I am?” he said, bemused.
“You totally are! You inspired me! I was telling Jenna about my application to the DeLeon Design Institute! They’re, like, the hottest program for commercial art, and when I applied last year, they turned me down flat. But I got to thinking about what you said last week, so I applied again, and this time I included my arm decorations in my portfolio. And they called me in for an interview! The director told me that you forwarded the video link from last week’s shoot to her!”
Jenna’s searching eyes met his. “I had no idea you had these connections,” she yelled over the noise.
“Trix DeLeon and I went to high school together,” Drew said. “I just sent Trix a link. That’s all.”
“Aw, don’t deny it, buddy. You helped, whether I get in or not. So thanks.”
Cherise hugged him again and planted a loud and smacking kiss on his cheek.
“Hey! Drew!” This time it was Roddy who accosted him. He was looking bright-eyed and excited. “I didn’t know you and Jenna were coming! Good to see you, man!”
“Yeah, it was a last-minute thing,” he said.
“Hey, now’s a great time to play that song for you, whaddaya say?”
