“Seriously?”
He nodded. “I really want to dance with you.”
“But we’re—” Jenna looked around as if there were plainclothes cops on the lookout for tiny booze.
“You know what? It’s fine.” He smiled. “We can just go upstairs—”
She plucked one of the bottles from his hand seconds before it would have disappeared in his pocket. Grinning like crazy, she took off her gloves, opened the bottle, lifted it in a silent salute and chugged that sucker down like a pro.
Then she coughed for almost a minute.
By the time she lifted her arms in the traditional slowdance posture, the song had ended. He decided he liked the new one just as much, even though he didn’t recognize it.
They stayed low-key. There were no grand sweeping moves as they danced close, away from the people rushing by. Considering where they were and how many people surrounded them, he was startled that he could smell her. The ultrafeminine scent didn’t surprise him in the least. It completely suited a woman like her. It was a weird thought that meant he might be drunker than he imagined.
The sounds of the trains made it hard to hear all the notes, but the crowd got bigger, and then some other folks started dancing.
He pointed it out to Jenna, and she just beamed. “I love this,” she said, shouting to be heard.
“Me, too.”
While it wasn’t exactly a flash mob, the dancers and the audience were making it difficult to pass through, which brought a cop around to break it up. Rick and Jenna exchanged smiles. She had beautiful shining eyes when she wasn’t crying. No matter what happened next, or even tomorrow, Rick wanted to remember her exactly like this.
* * *
JENNA WALKED INTO the gorgeous Mandarin Oriental hotel, glad to have Rick’s arm around her. It felt different, of course. She’d gotten used to Payton, and how they fit together. This was...unsettling. Because she felt comfortable. As if the difference suited her. Probably because she was tipsy. And pissed. And hurt down to her bones.
But that didn’t explain how she’d felt when he’d kissed her. It was... No. She didn’t want to think too much about it. Or the dancing, which had been like a scene from a romantic comedy.
Someone else’s romance.
But it was the kissing that made her head spin. The last time she’d kissed anyone but Payton was almost five years ago.
No. She stopped herself again. Put on the brakes. Thinking was simply out of the question. It would only bring more tears, which hadn’t helped thus far. And wouldn’t be fair to Rick. He was being a sweetheart while still managing to look like Danger Bond.
His concern for her wasn’t just because he was a nice guy. Clearly, taking care of her helped him avoid thinking about Faith and that diamond ring in his pocket. Not that she didn’t appreciate his kindness, but they were both running as fast as they could to outpace the midnight that had come and gone.
“Isn’t it late for a party?” she asked, glancing around the stunning lobby, tastefully decorated with white lights, red and white poinsettias and a Christmas tree that had to be fifteen feet tall. “Won’t it be over?”
“Nope. They’ll keep refreshing the buffet all night, until around five in the morning, when they’ll bring out breakfast.”
“I like this hotel,” she said, trying for a more cheery disposition. “If breakfast includes waffles, I’m not leaving.”
Rick led her straight to the elevator and two things popped into her head. Despite the unusual circumstance, he was still a stranger. And here she was blithely following his lead...to his room, for all she knew.
They stepped into a waiting car and as the door slid closed she asked, “Are you staying here?”
Rick smiled. “Nope. There really is a party.”
“Oh, good.” She stared at the flashing red numbers as they passed each floor. “Are we crashing it?”
“Is that a problem?” he asked, humor in his eyes.
Any other night? Yes. Tonight? Jenna shook her head. “None whatsoever.”
With a wicked grin he leaned over, and she held her breath, certain he was about to kiss her. But the elevator stopped and as the door opened he straightened, leaving her breathless and disappointed. Why? It wasn’t like her. Everything from midnight on wasn’t her.
Sure, Rick was attractive. The second she and Mindy had seen him they’d both reverted to dreamy-eyed teens.
Thinking back to those lascivious jokes about Rick had her blushing as they walked toward the banquet room. Of course neither she nor her silliness had caused the night’s events to unfold but how weird was it that things had ended up like this? “You okay?” he asked, and there was his arm again, around her shoulders, steadying her.
She nodded, finally accepting that nothing would feel like her regular life in the foreseeable future. It would either be too wonderful to be real, or a punch to the gut when she thought about Payton.
She wished she could be more like Rick. He was hurting, too, only he didn’t appear to be dwelling on it.
He seemed to know exactly where the party was so maybe they weren’t crashers at all. Alone for a minute while he checked their coats, her gaze swept the room as she hoped to see a banner or anything that would tell her who was hosting the party. And there it was, a banner made of rectangles, most of them dark gray, and the lowercase i in cardinal red.
Rick’s alma mater. The suite was much larger than the Boston U room. And way more extravagant. The buffet was still stocked over an hour past midnight, and there were three bar stations, all staffed, none of them with horrible lines.
“Drink?” Rick asked. “Food?”
“Drink first,” she said. “I need to be a little fuzzier than I am right now.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Everything feels off for me, too. Like when you’re in a car accident. Or a tornado.”
“Yes.” she said, sighing, though the tornado reference did make her smile a little. “Of course you get it...you should have been engaged right now, and I’ve hardly been there for you.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. Maybe I’ll be loaded with regret tomorrow, but tonight I’m thinking I dodged a bullet.”
“Really?” How could that be possible? A man didn’t bring an engagement ring to a party without caring about the outcome. Or maybe men did. What did she know? She’d thought she’d never have to worry about Payton’s commitment to her. Then again, she wasn’t exactly a beacon of purity in this debacle. Kissing Rick the first time was forgivable, but all the kissing since? Wanting him to kiss her? If there could be any reconciliation at the end of this...thing, she’d have to own up to her own behavior, although she never would have been with Rick at all if Payton hadn’t—
She forced herself to breathe, to blink away any tears. “Still,” she said, “I’m very sorry. I hope there aren’t too many regrets.”
“I don’t think it’ll be too bad, although I’ve got a hell of a lot of questions.”
She nodded as she realized they were already in line for drinks but she had no recollection of walking there. “Payton isn’t... He’s this steady man. He’s always where he’s supposed to be. Doesn’t drink, except on special occasions, doesn’t gamble, doesn’t get high. He’s a goddamn rock. Reliable in every way. Always where... Oh, I said that already. But honestly, he’s the one I’d call if something like tonight happened to me.”
Rick studied her for a long moment. “I’m not like him. Not that you couldn’t call me to help out in a jam. But when I’m not working I’m most definitely not a rock. In fact, I climb them. I chase tornadoes and skydive, too. On the plus side, I try to be where I’m expected, I’m not much of a drinker, with the obvious exception of New Year’s Eve. And you should probably know that punching Payton is still really high on my bucket list.”
Jenna knew he was kidding, but if the circumstances called for a punch, she had no doubt he could pull it off, which was not just cool, but sexy as hell.
Yet another reminder that this was not her life.
4
IN BETWEEN SPOTTING Rick at the BU party and actually meeting him, Jenna’s imagination had gone wild. Now that she’d spent time with him, it was clear she hadn’t given him enough credit. He most definitely was a steely-eyed badass. But he’d also made her laugh, made her smile. Been there for her.
“Forget him,” she said. “Forget Faith. What are we drinking?”
“Usually, I’m good for a beer or two, but tonight, I’m a Scotch man. And you?”
“White Russian. Heavy on the white. I’m a lightweight and I always go for the girlie drinks.”
“I know plenty of guys who drink White Russians.”
“Liar.”
“Fine. I don’t know them personally. But I’m sure I’m right.”
She smiled. Again. A small miracle. “Why do I get the impression you say that a lot?”
“What, that I’m right?”
She nodded. “My guess is that you are. A lot.”
“What makes you say that?” Rick was studying her again. It should have been intrusive and uncomfortable. It wasn’t. “Except for the train wreck at midnight and the alarmingly amazing kissing, you don’t know much about me.”