Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,15

“Of course, it is. But don’t you worry your pretty little head about work. I’m good at everything I do, and your father and Mariano Shipping are no match for my talent.” By some miracle, I held back my eye roll when he winked. “And Verana, I do mean I’m good at everything.”

Ew.

His smile grew, and I realized he took my shocked silence as awe rather than speechless disgust. As if in slow motion, his hand moved across the table, and I jerked my own into my lap, knocking my fork off my plate. The chime of it hitting the china sounded like the warning bell clanging in my head to get the fuck away from that table.

I pulled my lips back into a smile I was sure looked more like a grimace, but it wasn’t getting any better than that. “Excuse me,” I said, scooting my chair back. “I need to use the restroom.”

It took everything I had to continue to the back and not bolt for the doors and the freedom I desperately wanted from this night. Hiding away in the stall, I took several deep breaths, wondering how long it was acceptable to hide in the restroom before it started to look like I had stomach issues.

Knowing I’d reached my limit, I begrudgingly left the stall and ran cold water over my wrists, looking for any reason to not return to the table.

Mama always said it took time to fall in love, and that father was arrogant too, but tonight I’d reached my limit. And Camden wasn’t even the only issue waiting for me. Freaking Nicholas Rush.

God, what if he came over and introduced himself?

What if he pieced together who I was in my connection to Camden? If he thought I was a trashy woman before, seeing me on a date with a man when I’d almost mounted him in the lobby, I could only imagine what he would think.

“Fuck.”

I needed to get out of there. At that moment, I didn’t care if Camden thought I had diarrhea; if it meant escaping, then so be it.

Two giggling women walked in, breaking me from the staring match I was having with myself in the mirror.

With one last deep breath, I pushed open the bathroom door and headed back.

Like Deja vu, I looked down to close the latch on my purse and bumped into a moving wall.

“Shit. I’m so sorry,” I muttered immediately.

Unlike last time, the contents of my bag didn’t scatter across the floor.

However, very much like last time, I looked up into familiar dark eyes.

“Shit.”

“You said that already.” His words rumbled across my skin, mixing with the electric currents his warm hands sent down my arms from where they held me steady. “This seems to happen a lot to you. Running into men. Or is it just me?”

“Hardly.” I tried to make my words hard and filled with disdain, but they came out breathy and annoyed at best. More annoyed with my body for the way it reacted to his simple touch and the spicy, woodsy scent of his cologne. I wanted to close my eyes, lean in, and breathe as deep as I could to make the scent part of me.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Pulling my shoulders back, I lifted my chin, ignoring the way his eyes dipped down my body. “Besides, again, you bumped into me last time. Probably all the drinking on the job,” I added.

“Excuse me,” a woman said behind him, wanting to get through. He stepped closer, and I backed up until I hit the wall, the dim lights of the restaurant fading to nothing, his body a dark shadow closing in.

One hand moved to the wall beside my head, and his eyes scanned my face, his jaw ticking under the thick scruff. I tried to stand tall, but all I wanted to do was melt under the heat of his stare.

What was he doing? What was happening here?

I licked at my dry lips, and his growl vibrated in the space between us.

“Nicholas.” His name rushed from lips past my panting breaths. My lungs working overtime. Panicked at wanting more. Panicked at getting out.

His lips curled on a silent snarl, and within a blink, it was all gone. He stood back and shoved his hands into his pockets, nothing but a professional who happened to also look down on me and question my morals.

“How do you know Camden Conti?” he asked, his voice hard enough to bring me out of