Nikki’s stomach growled and she glanced around, looking for a waiter carrying a plate of hors d’oeuvres. She needed crackers, chips...something. The music was pounding and the beat was intoxicating, yet she stifled a yawn. To say she was tired from a few nights of only getting three to four hours of sleep had to be the understatement of the year. She shook her head and blew out a breath, determined that she would enjoy the night and keep to the plan. She glanced around to see if the object of said plan was in attendance.
She felt a rush of disappointment at the same time that her stomach growled again. She needed to eat something quickly and shake off the fatigue from a demanding day.
Exhausted, she’d rushed to work hoping it would be a light day at MagHard Interior Design, the company she worked for on a part-time basis. After learning that Tony was going to be in after lunch, she’d concluded that she was going to have to work twice as hard. In half the time. She’d swallowed down an angry sigh of irritation. She’d do what she had to do, since there was a deadline assigned to their project.
That didn’t mean she had to like it. She’d muttered and complained to no one in particular but done the work in the end, barely able to keep a pleasant disposition as she did so. Since she wanted to get hired as a designer with the company and transfer out of the accounting department, she needed to be seen as reliable.
Absently she continued her search for some type of sustenance from one of the floating waiters. “Where’s a food platter when you need one?” she grumbled.
She felt a frown creep on her face and quickly erased it, vowing to stay calm. She was here to have fun. Just chill, relax and enjoy. No stress...and possibly get a little...sex.
Nikki blushed as the thought crossed her mind, but she firmed her spine and tossed her hair back over a shoulder.
She did a quick check around to see if anyone was watching her talk to herself and drink like a soldier on leave. The talking to herself was her normal routine, but the drinking wasn’t, outside of the occasional glass at bedtime to help her relax enough to go to sleep.
She finished off the drink and felt warmth in her belly soothe the grumbling. Food would have to wait, she thought.
When a waiter glided by her, balancing a smoky mirrored platter topped with filled glasses on his shoulder, Nikki snagged a second flute quickly and, with a small smile, placed the empty one in its place.
Her glance ran over him as she took a sip and lifted a brow at his reaction.
The tall, blond, handsome young waiter smiled back at her, offering a dazzling display of his pearly whites...and nearly crashed into another waiter who was also staring at Nikki.
In direct contrast to his blond counterpart, this one was dark, the color of espresso with light brown eyes and a smile that nearly made her drop the glass of wine. The man looked so good.
Hmm, hmm, hmm...fine, fine, to-the-nth-degree fine, she thought, running her gaze over him from head to toe. From the top of his jet-black, hip-length locs, secured at the back of his head with a leather wrap, to his muscled body that the uniform in no way hid, he was superb.
“Hmm. Lord have mercy,” she said, a smile growing on her face.
It grew until her face ached, her confidence boosted to the max by the attention and near collision of the two handsome waiters.
Not only had her confidence increased from the near accident, but she knew some of her coworkers had noticed as well, and that made her feel good. Damn good, Nikki thought, and ran her fingers through her curls.
She took another sip of the sparkling drink, then began to feel the mellowing effect caused by the subtle but potent champagne. This has to be champagne, she thought.
She ran a hand over her hip, smoothing the booty-hugging, designer-knockoff dress down over her slim but curvy thighs, the hem stopping several inches from her knee.
Although the dress was a knockoff, she knew it not only looked like the real deal, but she was rocking the hell out of it.
Nikki smoothed the dress down again. The move was completely conscious. The hem of the dress hit her midthigh, and although she knew she looked good in it, she was still, truth be told, just the smallest bit uncomfortable, as it wasn’t her normal modus operandi, so to speak, when she dressed.
When she felt her hands inching toward the hem again, she stopped herself before she started tugging it farther down.
Mental-check time: she had come to the party to have fun, be sexy and, if only for one night, operate under a different set of rules. The sort of rules where she threw caution to the wind and let her hair down, both literally and figuratively.
She found a tall table with an available bar stool, so she took a seat. Glancing around, she noticed George from accounting, who was eyeing her boobs like they were manna from heaven.
The creep. She suppressed a shiver.
Nikki knew he eyed any woman under the age of seventy like that. In fact, last week she’d caught his creepy ass eyeing Ms. Burke, the elderly housekeeper who cleaned the offices during the evening.
She shuddered and ignored him, barely hiding her laugh when his wife caught him staring, and without missing a beat in her conversation, reached a hand out and slapped him upside his head.
Although George’s wife missed full-on connection, her hand—which was probably as large as any man’s, since she stood six feet tall in stocking feet—glanced the side of his face as he ducked the blow.
Shamed, his pale face flamed with color as he swiftly rushed toward the bar to refill his drink. His wife continued to talk with one of the ladies from accounting as though the incident had never occurred.
Nikki shifted her focus and turned around to survey the room.
She remembered the rules. Her rules, unique ones she’d decided would dictate her actions and deeds tonight.
In other words, she planned to not only have fun, but she was going to do something...or at least attempt to do something she’d never done before.
Pick up a man.
But not just any man, she thought, tapping the table with her nails. She was going to be a different creature than she normally was. If only for one night.
She turned around to check out the growing crowd at the office party. Although this was her second year with MagHard Interior Design, this was the first time she’d attended their office party, and what an event it was.
She swayed slightly to the beat as she analyzed the guests, casually, so that just in case anyone was watching her, they weren’t aware that she was...looking...for someone.
Fred and Ginger were just a few feet away, heads down, faces close together deep in conversation.
She covered her face and giggled...really, she needed to quit calling the pair Fred and Ginger, but everyone in the company did after the last holiday party. She had just started and hadn’t felt comfortable attending, but she’d been privy to the gossip for weeks afterward.
That party had been small, much smaller than this year’s extravagant affair, and had taken place in the office. Fred and Ginger, aka Bill and Esther, had both gotten so drunk they’d started dancing around the office, cranking up the music on the small iPod player, performing various numbers. From John Travolta’s moves in Saturday Night Fever to a painful-to-watch rendition of Dirty Dancing, the two had danced as though there was no tomorrow.
Their last dance had, unfortunately, been their last performance of the night. Ginger had leaped onto the desk and slid into a full split, dress above her thick thighs, a smug expression on her round face...a feat that Nikki had to give praise to the woman for, as Ginger was by no means a small woman.
Demonstrating surprising agility, she’d gotten to