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Harold steered his date so that Lydia and he were right in front of Drew and Jenna at the foot of the stairs, blocking any further progress into the room.
Then it hit him, like a freight train. Lydia’s perfume. A heavy, reeking cloud of it.
The same heinous stuff that had been squirted into his face at Sobel’s party. Drew’s stomach turned and he broke out in a cold sweat. Heart racing. Blood pressure dropping.
“Hi, Drew,” Lydia cooed. “Looking good, as always. You’ve been busy, hmm?”
For a moment, Drew couldn’t speak, he was fighting so hard for control. “Hello, Lydia,” he forced out. “This is Jenna Somers. My fiancée.”
“She knows about your fiancée,” Harold said. “At least, she sure knows now.”
“Yes, it’s so funny how I had absolutely no clue that you’d gotten engaged to this woman last spring when you were down in San Francisco,” Lydia said, in a voice that carried far and wide. “You didn’t act like a man who’d just found the love of his life, as I very clearly recall.” She looked Jenna over, and clucked her tongue. “Sneaky Drew.”
“Excuse us. We have to go work the crowd.” Drew ground the words out, pulling Jenna away from them.
“We’ll talk more later! We’re seated right next to each other at the banquet,” Harold called after them with barely concealed glee. “You and Lydia can catch up on old times! Lydia can get to know Jenna. Won’t that be nice?”
Drew pressed on, putting space between them so he could breathe, but now that the memory was activated, that horrific perfume was all he could smell, and the room was wavering in his vision. Sounds seemed distorted, as if he’d been freshly dosed with whatever drug they’d sprayed on him at the party. A stress flashback, right now? God. He was furious at his own brain for betraying him like this. Breathe deep.Chill. Control.
“...matter with you? Drew? What is it? Are you sick?”
Jenna was squeezing his arm and frowning. Her eyes looked worried.
“I’m fine.” He forced the words out.
“You don’t look fine. Your lips are white. What the hell?”
He groped for an explanation. He finally got a whiff of Jenna’s scent. Honey, wildflowers. It settled him. He got a deep breath into himself. Then another.
“I think I had some kind of an allergic reaction to Lydia’s perfume.” He threw out the first excuse that came to his mind, but it was actually kind of true.
“I think I’ve got you beat there. I had an allergic reaction to Lydia herself,” Jenna said with feeling. “She and your cousin are quite the poisonous pair. Better now?”
“Better,” he said.
Damn good thing, too, because now they were in the room where the architectural exhibits were displayed, and the crowd closed around them. The work of the evening began; the shaking of hands, hugs and air kisses, pleasantries and chitchat, posing for photos and selfies, speaking authoritatively about the projects he’d designed. Architects and engineers, board members, local politicians and businesspeople, journalists, a stream of people to interact with. He tried to fake normal, and when he faltered, Jenna covered for him as best she could.
It felt like forever, but eventually the crowd started drifting into the stately banquet room where dinner would be served and the endless speechifying would begin. By the time they got to their table, everyone else was seated, and there was no graceful way to switch out their places elsewhere without drawing a great deal of attention to themselves.
Harold and Lydia were lying in wait for them. They both stared at Drew and Jenna from the table with cold, watchful eyes. Lydia’s perfume hit his nose like a foul cloud of toxic gas. The place card with his name was right next to Lydia’s chair. His guts lurched.
Jenna elbowed him to the other side and sat down next to Lydia herself, giving the other woman a big smile. “Hope you two are having a lovely evening.”
“Getting better all the time.” Harold’s eyes dropped to Jenna’s chest, where it stayed like it had been nailed there, all the way through the appetizers and the first course. Drew wanted to smack Harold under the chin until his jaws clacked together to get him to look up into Jenna’s eyes when he spoke to her. Disrespectful sleaze.
Drew braved Lydia’s perfume and leaned closer, careful not to inhale, to focus on what his cousin was saying.
“...on YouTube. You know, the incendiary kiss. The slow dance at the Wild Side.”
“Oh, God.” Jenna sounded embarrassed. “That was so silly. Ava’s assistant, Ernest, was filming the drummer. We had no idea he was there. So embarrassing.”
Harold took a swig of his wine and licked his lips. “So spontaneous,” he commented.
“Are you usually such a shameless exhibitionist?” Lydia’s eyes glittered. She had a lipstick stain on her teeth. “Does Drew inspire you? I don’t blame you. That man is inspiring. No one knows that better than me. He can get a girl to do any wild, crazy thing he wants. Like, anything.”
“Excuse me,” Jenna said, recoiling slightly. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“We just wondered.” Harold gave her a lascivious smile. “You know, if the two of you get off on having the whole world watch while you, ah...get busy. Is that your thing?”
