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They walked to the bar, collecting trays loaded with champagne flutes, before turning around to face the crowd of women who had just noticed them. Something was said between them before they split up, dividing and conquering.
2
Brody scanned the room, identifying all the women who were involved in the bachelorette party. It helped that they were all corralled on one side of a velvet rope, a section of the club just for them to take advantage of. The VIP area had its own bar and private bathrooms, and by the way Derek zeroed in on a pretty woman with cafe au lait skin, they would probably be in use very soon.
He was about to join the guy when something made him turn his head. There was a woman sitting at one of the booths, her chin resting on her hand. It was funny; he thought she looked like the girl he had the biggest crush on in school. Lia Walker. She had the same warm blue eyes and dark hair. She even wore it in the same way—just a messy bun at the top of her head.
He started in her direction, the tray of champagne flutes balanced
expertly on his palm.
“Hi,” he said as he approached. “Would you like—” The question died on his tongue. It was her. “Lia?” he asked.
Her eyes widened at the sound of her name, right before they drifted
down his chest, stomach, and south of his belt. It felt as if she were stripping him with her gaze and his body reacted, hardening.
“It is Lia, isn’t it?” he asked, hoping to get her to stop checking him out like that.
She nodded. “Brody?”
He smiled. “Yeah, it’s me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, how
long has it been?”
She flushed and looked down at the table. “Since senior year of high school, I guess. So, at least five years?”
“Wow,” he replied, wondering how she’d managed to get even more beautiful.
“Oh! Ah, thank you?”
Jesus, had he said that out loud? Damn it. He glanced around and then back at her. Her blue eyes were back on his body. “So, you’re a topless waiter now?” she asked, and he was suddenly ashamed of what he did for cash.
“It’s a side job,” he replied quickly. “I have student loans.”
“Oh, yeah, I know about them,” she replied with a small shrug. “What did you study?”
“Accounting.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly, more like a stretch of the truth. He had started his degree; he just hadn’t gotten around to finishing it on account of the rehabilitation and his learning to walk again. When she didn’t have any follow-up questions, he said, “What about you?”
“Teaching,” she replied. “I’m a teacher.”
Oh yeah, he could totally see her as a teacher—one of those sexy-as-sin ones who punished him for skipping class.
“—Brody?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry? What?”
Another one of those small secret smiles. It was almost like she knew how badly he was affected by her.
“I asked if you played football in college? I thought you got a scholarship to Ole Miss…”
Brody shifted on his feet and Lia realized she was making him nervous. Which was ridiculous. He was a freaking god and she was the shy girl who blended into the background so well, the yearbook committee almost forgot to include her. But here Brody Riker was, standing in front of her and looking at her like he was having a fantasy about...well…her.
“I did,” he finally said. Cleared his throat. “I did play football, but my career was...short-lived,” he tacked on with a wince.
She smiled, knowing there was a story there, but unwilling to prod at what was clearly a wound for him. Sliding from her seat, she stood up, intending on just going to the bathroom so that he would have an excuse to stop talking to him. The guy probably had a hundred other things to do than stand there and talk to her.
“Well, it’s been nice talking to you,” she said, her feet still planted in place despite the message from her brain to get moving.
