your shirt.”
He made a dismissive sound and flicked his fingers in the air, never taking his eyes off hers.
She found herself smiling in return. “You’re really not mad?”
“It’s a shirt. No big deal.” He offered her his hand. “I’m Rhys, by the way.”
“Charlie,” she said, shaking his hand. His fingers were long and strong, the nails beautifully manicured.
“Short for Charlotte?”
She nodded. “But I’ve always been Charlie.”
He was still holding her hand. She knew she should pull it free, but she was too busy staring into his face.
“Why don’t you join me and my friends.”
She glanced over his shoulder and realized that their whole interaction was being witnessed by a group of eight people.
She threw them a self-conscious smile. “I can’t. I’m having friend with my dinner,” she said. Then she registered what she’d said. “I mean, I’m having dinner with my friend.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile deepened. Normally she’d be embarrassed by her gaucheness, but there was something about the way he looked at her that short-circuited all her usual responses.
“Right. He’s probably going to come after me with an elephant gun if I hold you up much longer, huh?”
“It’s a she. And she’s probably thinking I’ve twisted my ankle in these shoes. Which I almost did.”
“Then I’ll let you go,” he said, his fingers sliding from hers. “But maybe I’ll see you later. We’re going to be here awhile.”
She had no idea what to say to the blatant invitation in his eyes. She’d never had a man look at her like that in her life. Although she could definitely get used to it, especially if they all had intense dark eyes and olive skin and broad, strong chests.
“Um. Maybe.” She took a step backward. “Sorry about your shirt. Again.”
“Forget about it. I already have.”
She nodded and smiled and finally forced herself to walk away from the magnetic pull of his regard.
“Wow,” she whispered to herself as she wove through the crowd.
So that was what it was like to be the absolute focus of a handsome, devastating man’s attention. Heady, a little overwhelming and a lot exciting.
She glanced over her shoulder as she stepped down into the reception area. Her eyes met his and she realized he’d been watching her walk away. As though he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She lifted her hand and gave him the smallest of finger waves. He nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment. The urge to walk back and take him up on his offer of a drink was almost impossible to ignore.
Um, hello? Remember Gina? Earth calling Charlie…
Charlie forced herself to keep moving. The more distance she put between herself and Rhys-the-superhot, the more sane she felt. For a moment there, she’d bought into Gina’s fantasy of who she was. Which was plain crazy.
“There you are,” Gina said as Charlie returned to the table. “I was about to send out a Saint Bernard with a little barrel of whiskey strapped to his neck. What happened to you?”
“I nearly broke my ankle in these shoes of yours, for starters,” Charlie said. “Plus, I gave some poor guy a bath in his own wine.”
“No way!”
“Way.”
Gina pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop herself from laughing.
“Go ahead and laugh,” Charlie said resignedly.
“Give me your tally first. How many men looked at you?”
Charlie turned her head and gazed along the length of the restaurant. She could see the bar from here, but not Rhys’s dark head. “Um, I’m not sure. I lost count,” she said distractedly.
“You lost count. I rest my case.”
The waiter arrived with their meals before Charlie could respond. She used the interruption to change the subject.
The champagne kept flowing as they ate, although Charlie was old enough and wise enough not to drink too much. Still, there was no denying that she was feeling very relaxed by the time she and Gina had polished off a dessert platter.
“Okay. Where to next?” Gina said as she licked the last smear of chocolate sauce off her spoon.
Charlie let her gaze slide to the bar again. Was Rhys still there? And if he was, would he still want to buy her a drink? Or had he already met some other non-wine-spilling woman who knew how to respond when a handsome man looked at her with approval?
“What about a drink at the bar?” she heard herself say.
Gina shrugged. “Sure, babe. It’s your night. Let’s go.”
What are you doing? What do you think is going to happen if you go to the bar? Have