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He steps backward quickly, but the glassware still catches on his white shirt, which is now saturated with a delicious bottle of Dom Perignon Vintage 1992.
“Shit,” he curses as the tray and glasses fall to the floor. Thankfully, it’s carpet, so nothing breaks and there is no loud clatter to disrupt the formal proceedings of the event in the main room.
As I survey the mess of glasses and champagne that now decorate the floor, Kelly’s breath hitches behind me. I look up to the man to apologize, and it is then that I see his face and my stomach drops. Not again!
“Kelly!” John, Kelly’s husband, rushes down the hall, grabbing Kelly, who is panting through what appears to be a contraction.
“I’m so sorry,” the young waitress says to me as I scramble off the floor and grab Kelly’s handbag, passing it to John.
“You two, go, I will finish up here,” I tell Kelly and John, wanting this to be the last thing Kelly worries about in her condition.
“You sure?” Kelly asks, looking between me and the man behind me.
“Yes, of course, go. I will wrap up here, then head to the hospital to check on you.” Looking at John, he gives me a nod before walking Kelly toward the kitchen, out the back exit. We planned for this. John was on speed dial for the past few weeks as Kelly’s due date got closer. And while she isn’t due for another few weeks, one of the contingencies of our event today was to run it like Kelly wasn’t even here. What we didn’t plan for was her water breaking at the actual event, or for my awkwardness and the tray of champagne landing on one of our guests.
“I am extremely sorry, sir,” I say quickly as I turn to look at Harrison Rothschild, who’s trying to mop himself down with a napkin. My eyes catch on his now see-through shirt, and the very clear outline of some well-formed abs, and I swallow quickly.
“It’s fine. It was an accident, no harm.” He’s being kind, too forgiving, even though I see his jaw clenching. I cringe, tentative as I wait for his wrath, but it never comes.
“Follow me. I can get you sorted with a new shirt and organize the dry cleaning,” I tell him in the most professional tone I can muster. Spinning on my heel, I don’t wait for his response as I hightail it farther down the hall, stepping around the waitress who is cleaning up the mess, to a discreet cloak room that is prepared for just such an occasion.
Pushing open the door, I flick on the light.
“I’m guessing a size thirty-eight?” I ask, my back still to him, but I know he followed me into the room. His masculine scent wraps around me, giving me goosebumps, and I rub my arms to create friction so they disappear. The door to the room closes, shutting out any noise, and the quiet is suddenly startling. You can hear a pin drop, and I am scared he can hear my traitorous heart as it thuds harder in my chest.
“Yes. Thank you.” His voice makes my nerves dance in my stomach, my body warming at his proximity. I need to pull myself together; it isn’t like I haven’t spilled champagne on him before.
“Of course.” I’m feeling breathless, but I’m trying to keep it together, my hands shaking a little as I grab the new shirt from the rack.
“Here,” I say as I turn to face him, proud that we have a Hugo Boss white dress shirt in his size. This is what sets our event agency apart from all others. We go the extra mile. We think of everything. Including a dressing room full of clothes in case people need a quick change.
“Thank you,” he says as he takes the shirt from my hand. Looking around the room, his eyes rest on mine again. “You have quite the wardrobe in here. The whole event is extremely professional and well organized. One of the best events I have ever been to, and I have been to many.”
His voice feels like warm honey down my body, and I’m hoping I’m not obviously blushing. I quickly turn and give him my back again as I grab a laundry bag to put his wet shirt in to dry clean it for him. We are standing close, and I can feel the heat radiating between our bodies. All I would need to do is step back and we’d touch, and my body hums for the connection. It’s been a long time since I have been with a man.
“We like to ensure we are prepared for anything. It is why we are one of the best event agencies in D.C. We look after every last detail. If you would like to put your wet shirt in this…” My words stop on my lips when I turn back to face him again. He is standing there half naked, his wet shirt in his hand. Those abs I saw momentarily before are now right in front of me and my eyes cannot move away from them. There is a smattering of dark hair that runs across his perfect chest, leading up to his solid shoulders and down to a trail that’s extremely enticing to a single girl like me.
It's unavoidable now… I feel the heat flame my cheeks.Stupid cheeks.
“Oh my god!” I gasp as I right myself, my hands flying to my face, and I cover my eyes. My cheeks flame even hotter as I shake my head, trying to pull it together. I turn around again, drawing on every professional bone in my body, nearly losing my footing in the process.Why do I have to be so awkward?
I hear him chuckle. “It’s fine. I didn’t mean to startle you. I apologize.” Even though my eyes are covered, I know he is grinning. He is clearly confident in his body, and he should be. It is like it is sculptured or airbrushed or something. I gaze down at my very average physique. Sure, I have curves, but they are not what I would call desirable by any stretch of the imagination. I flaunt them, regardless. I am not totally inept.
“Please put your wet shirt in this bag, and I can organize the dry cleaning,” I say, throwing the bag behind me at him without looking. I think I hear his faint chuckle again, but I am too embarrassed to look. His closeness almost suffocates me.
“I will give you some privacy.” I move quickly toward the door, tripping slightly on the line of spare shoes in the process. My hip hits the clothing rack, which is on wheels, and it runs down the length of the room, banging on the end wall.
“Shit!” I hiss under my breath.
“Are you okay?” he asks as my heart thumps through my ears, and I just want the world to open up and swallow me right now.
“Yes. Absolutely. Never been better. Please don’t worry about me.” The words rush out of me in a fluster. I look everywhere but at him, trying to find an escape route to get out of this situation.
“Wait, you're caught!” he tries to warn me, but in my haste, I pay little attention until I am falling. My foot capturing the side of a box, my body twists, and the floor comes toward me at a rapid pace.
“I’ve got you!” I hear him say before I feel his hand wrap around my waist, the warmth from his grip spreading through my body. I gasp as I continue to fall, the momentum pulling us both to the floor, and he lands on top of me, the two of us in a tangle. His one hand remains around my waist, keeping me close, the other holding him up slightly, yet his face hovers mere inches from mine.
Mortification doesn’t come close to the feelings welling in my body, not including the warm tingling that is happening down below. His half naked form pushes against mine, his strong pecs brushing my breasts, hearts meshing together. If anyone was to walk in right now, our position would be seen as extremely unprofessional and would be front page news on the local gossip websites.
