Page 51 of Heartless As Puck

I groaned. “I don’t want to know.”

A waitress came past, carrying a refill tray destined for one of the tables, and Jesse stole a pastry from it and batted his eyelashes when she side-eyed him.

“Keep it in your pants,” I hissed at him. “Our job tonight is not to make a scene. Let’s keep it PG.”

“I won’t do anything more than flirt,” he assured me, as if that alone wasn’t enough to get him into trouble.

Robertson appeared in front of us, clad in a suit that cost more than mine and shoes that I suspected were imported straight from Italy.

He waved his hands at us. “Mingle. Talk to people. Make us look good.”

With a quick exchange of grimaces, we broke apart and went in different directions. Jane and I found ourselves in a group that included a couple of guys from the Milwaukee NHL team, who were in the city for a game tomorrow. They smirked at us as if they knew something we didn’t, and it set my teeth on edge.

Another member of the group, one of the charity’s managers, was telling us about their selection process for the children who applied to participate in the program, so I tried to focus on her, making noises at the appropriate times.

When she finished and opened the floor to questions, I was surprised that Jane was the first to speak up, although based on the way her hand shook as she raised her glass to her lips, it wasn’t easy for her.

“Does the charity accept both lump sum payments and ongoing commitments or is it one of the other?” she asked.

“We accept both.” The manager smiled at her, obviously grateful for the softball question. “Ongoing commitments give us a degree of certainty, but we’re aware that lump sum payments are easier for some people, and we’re always pleased to receive them.”

Someone else asked another question and another. Once we’d run out, the manager moved on.

Jane tilted her face up to me. “I’m going to get another drink. Would you like one too?”

“I’ll have water, please.”

She moved away and, at that moment, one of the Milwaukee players, Herdacre, sidled over and nudged me with his elbow.

“How long have you been banging Alec Wright’s sister? And how the hell did you see past her boring outfits and realize what she was hiding underneath?” He whistled. “She has a great body.”

A spark of irritation heated my gut. There was no need to be crass. Although, oddly enough, that wasn’t the only thing that bothered me. I was also irritated with him for noticing the woman who was supposed to be mine.

Well, as far as anyone else knew, anyway.

“Do you role play boss and assistant?” he asked with another not-so-subtle elbow nudge.

I stepped away and pivoted so I was facing him. “Don’t talk about her like that,” I growled, only just resisting the urge to shove him.

Not now. This isn’t the time.

“She deserves your respect, and if you can’t give her that, then keep her name out of your fucking mouth.”

He held his hands up and backed away, staring at me as if I were a rabid dog. “Calm down. I’m not about to make a move on your girl.”

“You shouldn’t talk about any woman that way. I—” I cut off, horror dawning as I realized that Jane was returning and alongside her—potentially close enough to hear us—was a familiar woman, tapping rapidly on her phone.

Long, blonde hair. An upturned nose. A heart-shaped face that should have been sweet but was instead twisted with scorn.

Rebecca Jansen.

Fuck.

I swallowed the rest of my sentence, taking my glass from Jane and urging her away from Rebecca.

Had they been speaking, or was Rebecca just hovering near her like a shark that smelled blood in the water?

“What’s wrong?” Jane asked.