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Just One Night(9)

By:Lauren Layne


curl her hair and do the eyeliner thing, she knew she had more of the uh-oh-that-

one’s-trouble look going on.

She knew the words siren and sex kitten got thrown around whenever she

bothered to get dolled up, and Riley didn’t mind a bit. It was a lot easier to

convince people you were a sex expert when you looked the part. A tight dress

could hide a lot. Like, say, the fact that you’d gone most of your life without anyone

seeing what was under the dress.

Jake, Grace’s ridiculously good-looking boyfriend, was watching Riley in

amusement as she took a bracing gulp of her Manhattan. “Does your father know

that you drink bourbon instead of Bushmills? Isn’t that some sort of crime against

your kin?”

“I don’t advertise that little fact at family dinners, no. But for the record, my love

for Basil Hayden’s would be nothing if he ever heard you say the word Bushmills

to his face.”

Jake’s eyebrows went up. “Your dad doesn’t like Irish whisky?”

“Oh, he does. But we’re Catholic, which puts us solidly in the Jameson camp.”

She patted his forearm reassuringly. “Don’t fret about the mistake. It was too

much to ask that you be brilliant and beautiful.”

Actually, Jake Malone was both, but Grace would kill her if she pumped up his

already inflated ego.

His brow furrowed. “Wait, so you’re telling me he bases his liquor preferences

on—”

A hand slid up between their faces, effectively ending the conversation. “Guess

what?” Grace said pleasantly. “That’s boring. Also, I want to get the scoop on

Riley’s date on Friday, not hear about ancient Irish feuds and Riley’s penchant

for Tennessee whisky.”

“Kentucky,” Riley corrected.

Grace pointed to her own straight face. “See this? Uninterested.” She turned her

finger to point at Riley’s face. “And that? That is avoiding.”

“Steven Moore was a turd,” Riley said with a shrug. “What more is there to talk

about?”

Sam. We could talk about Sam. You could help me figure out how to stop thinking

about him.

“I thought you liked this Steven,” Grace said.

“I did. I totally did.” Sort of. “Right up to the point that he brought out the handcuffs

before we even made it back to my place.”

Grace and Jake both had the good sense to wince.

“Right?” Riley said with a disgusted shake of her head. “I should have known

when the first kiss was lame.”

“I thought you said the kiss was decent,” Grace said.

“Well, that’s every guy’s dream,” Jake said. “To be decent.”

Riley pointed at him. “See? Jake gets it. Decent was my way of saying he didn’t

have halitosis, but neither did he exactly rock my world.”

“Do I rock your world?” Jake said, sliding an arm around Grace’s back and pulling

her close.

Riley averted her eyes as they exchanged one of those soft, dreamy kisses that

seemed so natural for them but were utterly foreign to her. Riley had mistakenly

thought that Julie Greene and Mitchell Forbes—Stiletto’s other power couple—

were some sort of gross anomaly of in-loveness, but Grace and Jake were giving

them a run for their money on the totally smitten scale.

“I’m going to go find the crab cakes,” Riley muttered.

“I’d tell you not to eat too many, but your body literally repels fat,” Grace said,

never tearing her gaze away from Jake’s.

Riley ignored her, her eyes scanning for the white shirts of the serving staff. Yeah,

so she had a great metabolism. She liked to think it was the universe’s way of

evening the score for depriving her of sex.

Ah. There was the crab cake lady.

Riley made her move, stacking three of the appetizers onto her cocktail napkin

when best friend number two appeared at her elbow. “Don’t get aioli on your

dress. Camille will have a fit.”

“No she won’t. She’ll be too busy lecturing you for being late.”

Julie blushed. “Mitchell and I—”

Riley held up a hand. “Nope. I’m officially off listening duty for all sexy-talk for the

next week.”

Julie nodded. “I heard. So Steven wasn’t the one?”

“Not even close. Remind me of this next time I let some guy try to pick me up at

the bank.”

And also, remind me to never let myself think of Sam Compton when I’m out with

another guy.

But she’d been losing that battle since she was seventeen.

Julie made a sympathetic noise as she scanned the room. “Have you seen the

boss? I can’t believe how many people are here. I thought it was just Stiletto staff