Her excitement is contagious and because I’ve known her and her fiancé, Adam, for so many years, my happiness exudes. “Congratulations again.”
“Thank you for letting me stay home this weekend. You’ll be great and don’t be nervous. It’s just a rah-rah go get’em presentation and cocktail party. The rest of the time is all yours.”
“You know how much I hate these kinds of events.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Your company’s success speaks for itself.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.”
“Drive safely and squeeze in some fun.”
I laugh. “You know I’ll try. Bye.” When we hang up, I turn on some music and let the miles drift behind me.
After a stop for gas half-way and a coffee later, I enter the glistening city in the desert. Pulling up to my hotel, I valet my car and take my own luggage to my room after checking in. I like this hotel because of the amenities, but the men aren’t bad to look at either—a little edgy, a lot sexy—lucky for this single girl.
I spend a couple of hours checking emails and work on a proposal before I realize the time and need to get ready for the night. It’s Vegas, so I mix business with some sexy. I pull on a black fitted skirt that hits mid-thigh, an emerald green silk camisole with spaghetti straps, and a short black jacket. I slip on my favorite new pair of stilettos and after one last check of my makeup and hair, I head out.
The meet and greet isn’t long, but I slip out at one point to use the restroom. As I’m walking back toward the ballroom, I’m drawn to a man standing with a group of people nearby. His magnetism captures me. He might just be the best looking man I’ve ever seen—tall, dark hair, strong jaw leading me up to seductive eyes aimed at me. His head tilts and for a split second in time, everyone else disappears. I break the connection by looking away, everything feeling too intense in the moment. When he laughs, I add that to his ongoing list of great attributes.
When I pass, the feel of his gaze landing heavy on my backside warms my body. With my hand on the door, I pause, wanting to look back so badly. I resist the urge, open the door, and return to the party. The presentation portion of the evening is interesting. Despite that, my thoughts repeatedly drift back to the hot guy in the corridor—fitted jeans, black shirt, leather wristband. Damn I’m weak to a leather wristband.
I’m mentally brought back to the presentation when my company is recognized as one to watch. The acknowledgement is nice, and it feels good to be among my peers.
The dinner becomes more of a party as everyone wanders around instead of taking their seats. I’m not hungry and need to psych myself up to mingle. Tracy is awesome in these types of situations. Me, not so much.
The ballroom is dimly lit, I’m guessing to set the ambiance, but since this is business, I can do without the romance. I head straight for the bar just like everyone else—one big cattle call to the liquor to make the rest of the night a little more bearable.
“I usually hate these things,” I hear from the guy behind me. When I look over my shoulder, he gives me a half-smile—half-friendly, half-creepy. “But they don’t usually have attractive women either.”
I roll my eyes while turning my back on him and his cheesy pick-up line.
“I’m sorry. That was bad. I know,” he says with a weird nasally laugh.
His breath hits my neck and I jerk back. “Do you mind? Ever hear of personal space?”
“Sorry. You’re just really pretty.” He shrugs as if that makes everything better. “Your beauty is making me stupid.”
“You think?” Big mistake.
He actually takes my sarcastic comment as a conversation opener. “Yes, I do. But I can’t be the first to be dumbfounded by your beauty.”
Standing on my tiptoes to see how many more people are in front of me, I exhale, disappointed by the long line. One person in line would have been too many at this point. “Excuse me,” I say and slip out of line. I find the table with my name tag on it, set my purse down, and take off my jacket. This hotel ballroom is crowded and too warm.
Saved by a friendly face, I see Cara, a marketing strategist I know from L.A. Weaving between the tables, I sit down in a chair next to her. With her eyes focused on the paperwork in front of her, I ask, “Working during the party?”
She looks up, smiling when she sees me. Opening her arms, she leans in and hugs me. “Holli, it’s so good to see you.”
I went with a different company than hers for a campaign a while back and glad she’s not holding it against me. “Good to see you again.”