"I thought it would look good on you. I can admit when I'm wrong." She pushed another drink at me, and I shook my head. "If you won't drink, eat something."
My stomach growled at the word eat. I was hungry. Famished, actually. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and the thought of buffalo wings made my mouth water.
I waved the waitress/bartender/whatever the hell she was over and ordered two dozen. The wings arrived soon after. Thick red sauce dripped from each boneless delicacy. I ate the first one slowly, the tangy flavor exploding on my tongue. The rest, well, I shoveled them in like a Hoover. Mel tried to steal one, but in my starved haze, I stabbed her hand with my fork. The men at our table cheered me on.
"Maybe you've had enough, Naomi," Kera said, grinning. "You've got sauce around your lips."
Cheeks reddening, I rubbed my napkin over my mouth. A man chose that moment to scoot in beside me. "What's your name, sugar?" he asked.
Why did men insist on calling women by food endearments? Sugar. Sweet cakes. Honey pie. Richard the Bastard had called me by other women's names. Royce called me sweetheart, as if I actually held a special place in his heart, so it meant something when he did it. I think my inner Tigress would have preferred Sex Goddess of Wet Dreams, though. That had a nice ring to it.
I cast a glance in my new admirer's direction. "You may call me Your Highness," I said. "Or Empress Beauty."
He chuckled. I wasn't kidding.
"I love a woman with a healthy appetite." He leaned into me, pretending he couldn't speak over the loud music. "The way you ate those wings, well, it turned me on. You're not going to run to the bathroom and throw them up, are you? Some women do that."
I studied his face and frowned. He was cute, with brown hair and big puppy-dog brown eyes. He was a little older than most of the other people in the bar, I noticed, which screamed midlife crisis. Suspicious, I peeked at his left hand. His fingers were wrapped around a beer and the beer was resting on the tabletop. Sure enough, his fourth finger possessed the telltale white band left by a ring, where the skin around that symbol of lifelong commitment had tanned. Either he was recently divorced or he'd removed his ring for tonight.
My inner Tigress suddenly roared to life, demanding that I claw out the man's stomach and present it to the women at my table for consumption. Ah, she'd become vicious. I liked that.
"Where have you been?" I muttered to her.
Midlife Crisis heard me and assumed I'd been speaking to him. "I've been waiting for you, sugar."
"You married?" I asked him innocently.
He had the audacity to stare me dead-on and say, "Never wanted to take the plunge. I guess I just never met the right woman." His voice dipped as low and seductive as he could make it. "You?"
"I haven't met the right woman, either."
He blinked, but then his lips stretched wide in a grin. "You like women? Well don't worry, I'm open-minded. I'm all about equality."
"I'm not sleeping with you," I snapped.
"No, she's not," a deep, rich, familiar voice said.
I spun in my seat, my eyes going wide, my heart racing.
"Royce," Colin said, relief heavy in his tone. "About time you got here."
Royce shot Midlife Crisis a pointed stare. "If you want to live, I suggest you leave."
Midlife paled and scampered away.
Royce was here. Actually here. Shock and pleasure wound through me, tightening around every limb, cell and hollow of my body. Richard had never come home early for anything, had never acted eager to see me.
I stood, my knees unsteady. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you in Florida?"
His arm wrapped around my waist, as strong and warm as I remembered. He pulled me into his side and kissed my temple. "I came back early. Colin called me and told me you were coming here. Since I love the music," he said dryly, "I decided to come, too."
"The music, hmm." I bit my lip, wanting to prompt him for more of an admission. I couldn't help it; I loved his sweetness and I wanted him more in that moment than I ever had before. "That's all?"
His eyes flared with heat and fire and possessiveness. "Maybe the real reason is I missed you like hell."
I leaned more snugly against him and breathed in his