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But I didn’t.
Just when I was ready to toss my cup in the trash and wave my goodbyes, Layla propped up on the bar next to me.
“What’s with the frown, chica? Not having a good time?” she asked, mile long legs crossed at the ankles, platform sandals doing all kinds of favors for that much real estate.
“How can you walk in those?” I asked, surprised that I actually offered the question out loud.
“Oh, these?” she held up a foot and rotated her ankle to give me a better view.
Yep, miles of honey gold skin, glowing with exfoliation and not a stray hair to be seen.
“Been doing it since puberty, so I get kind of thrown off if Idon’twear them, you know?”
“Not really,” I said, glancing at my own sensible flats. “And what about your skin. It looks like you bathed in butter.”
Layla tossed streaky blonde waves over her shoulder. “C. Boothe shave oil and Venus razors. It’s the holy grail combo of leg depilation.”
I nodded, “Looks great. In another lifetime, I would have tried it myself.”
Layla turned further toward me, brows furrowed, “Why don’t you now?”
I shrugged, “Not really any point.”
Layla nodded like the sage she was, “Things not going great at home?”
I laughed, “That’s an understatement.”
And then I caught myself, revealing personal, intimate details of my own life to a near stranger in the middle of my ex-husband’s compound where I was most definitely not welcome, if the glares Brick was throwing my way were any indication.
“What’s Brick’s deal?” Layla asked, following my gaze to the massive Sergeant at Arms who stood, arms folded across his chest, staring a hole in me.
“He’s not a fan, and I can’t really say I blame him,” I admitted. “Look, it’s been great talking to you, but I probably need to go. Overstaying my welcome and all that.”
Layla had just sucked in a breath to respond when we both turned toward the sound of boots on stairs, and when I looked up in the direction of the office spaces, Gate’s stare zeroed in on me and stayed there.
He didn’t look angry, exactly, but he sure lookedsomething, and that something was all kinds of hot.
“Maybe you should stay,” Layla whispered, watching the same show I was.
I swallowed. Hard. “I’m thinking I should go. Likenow.”
I half turned, grabbed my purse from the bar behind me, and yelled over my shoulder, “Great party, Jenna! See you at home, Stella.”
But no sooner had I snagged my purse and headed for the door, than Gate stepped between me and freedom.
I skidded to a stop, nose nearly touching his chest.
His scent washed over me, and my knees buckled.
It had beenagessince anything had hit me like that.
He reached out a hand to steady me.
He only touched my arm, a completely chivalric gesture, just to make sure I didn’t fall, but the heat that roared through my veins was like an inferno, nothing innocent or genteel about it.
The breath left my lungs in awhoosh, and when I looked up, my gaze hit Gate’s chin, and then I looked up some more, and I finally met green eyes that I hadn’t seen this close up in years.
Electricity seemed to arch between us, and sure that I was the only one who felt it, I stumbled back and caught myself on a nearby chair.
