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'Wow, you're a talented designer.'
To her horror, Frida's bottom lip wobbled as she blinked frantically, on the verge of tears. 'Pity Bram doesn't think so.' She sniffed, and plucked at a chiffon layer in her lap. 'He said it looked like a bottle of orange soda exploded all over me.'
Britt glared at Bram, paunchy, balding, and florid, as he slapped Nick on the back, while his beautiful wife fought tears. Dumb-ass.
Searching for a diplomatic answer, Britt finally said, 'Bram's a great businessman but maybe his fashion sense isn't up to par?'
Frida dashed her tears away with an angry swipe, a smile twitching at her mouth. 'He also said I need liposuction and another facelift.'
Outraged, Britt abandoned all sense of politeness. 'Guys are jerks.'
However, when her gaze returned to Nick, drawn by the magnetic power he exuded by being in a room, she knew her statement wasn't entirely true. Not all guys.
'You can say that again.'
'Guys are jerks,’ Britt repeated.
Frida chuckled and she joined in, wondering how an attractive young woman could hook up with an overbearing ass like Bram. It all came down to money and, once again, she thanked her lucky stars she'd escaped that world and all it stood for.
'Aren't you the lucky one? Here comes your delicious husband.' Frida jumped up and smoothed her dress, tears forgotten as she batted her eyelashes at Nick. 'Nice to see you, Nick.'
Nick nodded, his gaze fixed on Britt rather than the eye-catching figure sashaying away in a fiery dress, earning him more brownie points than she could count.
He sat beside her, his aftershave teasing her to lean closer, to fill her senses with it, as she had earlier when she'd lost herself in the wonder of his kiss.
'I don't like it when women natter in corners. They're usually planning trouble for us mere males.' His frown didn't work when accompanied by a slow, sexy smile that notched up the heat between them in a second.
'Safety in numbers, I guess.'
Leaning towards her, he crooked his finger. 'Looks to me like numbers are dwindling and you know what that means?'
'What?'
'It means we'll have to spike the band's drinks so we get rid of the rest of the revellers pronto.' He trailed a fingertip down her cheek, making her skin pebble. ‘Soon can’t come quick enough to get you alone.’
She laughed while her heart stopped leaping and settled with a resounding thud. Because at that moment, she knew.
Earlier, he’d promised they’d take this all the way soon and by Nick’s loaded stare as locked gazes with her, his promised 'soon' had arrived. With his bow tie askew, his hair rumpled, and eyes blazing with an emotion she dare not analyse, she had as much chance of not falling in love with Nick again as flying solo back to London.
And the knowledge he still held that kind of power over her scared her beyond belief.
'How much longer?' She needed him to hold her, to erase her thoughts, to banish the yearning to be with him. Surely they could have sex tonight to assuage the tension strumming between them and that wouldn’t complicate matters?
Sensing her eagerness, he slid an arm around her waist and cuddled her close.
'I'll get the band to announce this is the final song. How does that sound?’
'Perfect.'
'Don't move. I'll be right back.'
He feathered a kiss across her lips before striding away, leaving her to deal with her newly awakened feelings and how much they terrified her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Britt paced the kitchen, waiting for Nick to escort the last reveller off the property.
She shouldn't be this nervous.
