“See? Chopped liver again,” Mac joked as he took his seat. Grace slid her hand beneath the table and an arrested expression crossed Mac’s handsome face.
“Still feeling like chopped liver?” Grace asked in a sultry tone.
“N-no, not exactly,” Mac said, his eyes finding Grace’s substantial cleavage.
“Settle, children. Don’t make me go find the fire hose,” Claudia warned them.
Lately she’d found herself feeling like a spinster aunt with two sets of lovebirds twittering around her constantly. Most of the time she was too busy to regret her lack of a love life, but when she saw a fine specimen of manhood such as Leandro dressed up in all his finery, she couldn’t help remembering that there were definite perks to having a man in her life.
Sex being the major perk on her mind right this minute as she watched Leandro weave his way through the tables. For a big man, he moved with surprising grace. And even though she’d made a few cracks about his Greek nose, it suited him. It was a man’s nose—a take-no-prisoners kind of nose.
Realizing that she was staring, Claudia concentrated on unfolding her napkin and spreading it across her lap.
Off-limits, she reminded herself. But perhaps a timely reminder that it had been a while since she’d caught up with either Harry or Simon, her two bed buddies. Although last time she’d seen him, Harry had been all doe-eyed over a woman in his office. One of the hazards of bed buddies—sometimes they fell in love with someone and left a girl stranded.
Sliding her slim-lined cell phone from her small clutch purse, Claudia punched in a quick text message to Simon. If he was free tonight, there was no reason why he couldn’t meet her at the hotel after the ceremony. Instead of spending the night on her own, ricocheting around the lavish suite the production company had provided for the duration of the convention, she and Simon could see how many rooms they could christen.
Her finger hovering over the Send key, Claudia glanced up and was caught in the magnetic darkness of Leandro’s gaze. His table was the one across from hers, and he was seated facing her. She’d be looking at him all night. At those shoulders. Those firm, full lips. And he’d be looking right back at her, his eyes full of heat and curiosity and challenge.
Her finger descended on the Send key, and she sent a prayer to the goddess that Simon was sitting at home twiddling his thumbs tonight. If she had any luck, he’d be twiddling something a lot more interesting later this evening.
Feeling distinctly jittery, she fidgeted with her silverware and wineglass and pretended she was listening to what her friends were saying on either side of her while she waited for her old lover to respond.
It had been a few months since she’d scratched the particular itch that was bugging her tonight, she realized as she did a mental calendar check. How had that happened? No wonder she was feeling like a cat on a hot tin roof. She was well overdue for a good roll in the hay.
Her phone beeped in her purse and she almost leaped on it. Her breath hissed out between her teeth as she saw Simon’s response: Can’t make it. Wish me luck—just got engaged! S.
Good Lord. Claudia stared at the screen for a full minute, feeling as though someone had pulled the rug out from under her. First Harry, now Simon. She really was a hard-up spinster. Automatically she sent a text back, offering her congratulations and best wishes. Simon was a nice guy. She really did wish him well.
She was so distracted, she didn’t notice the waiter leaning close to pour her wine, and her glass was full before she could protest. Grace solved the problem by placing her hand over her own glass, then swapping with Claudia’s full one when the waiter had moved on.
“Thanks,” Claudia said, reaching for her water glass.
“No problem,” Grace said. “Relax, Claud—if we win it’s great, if we lose it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Okay. I’m not quite sure how the logic of that works, but I’ll try to go with it,” Claudia said.
She was nervous about the stupid award. That was probably half the reason why her stomach was tied up in knots. As for being sexually frustrated…well, it wasn’t like she was going to lose control and start humping Leandro Mandalor’s leg or anything, was it? She could survive one evening of being attracted to a handsome man without taking a one-way trip to Desperado-ville.
“Ladies and gentleman, please take your seats if you haven’t already. We’re thrilled to have you all here this evening to celebrate the twenty-third annual People’s Vote Awards,” a smooth voice announced over the speakers.
Claudia sat up straighter. Grace and Sadie grabbed one of her hands each.
“Two hours, a million speeches, and too much wine from now, it will all be over,” Grace said.
“We’re going to win,” Sadie said.
“Definitely we’re going to win,” Dylan agreed.
Claudia forced a smile. Suddenly she felt twelve years old again, standing in school assembly, waiting to hear her name called for the academic achievement awards. It was stupid to place so much weight on something that was essentially meaningless in her day-to-day life. She earned a good salary, the show was rating well, she had great friends. This award wouldn’t add or subtract from her life in any way.
But she was still ridiculously excited and nervous and apprehensive.
Against her will, her gaze found Leandro at his table. He was watching her, but she’d already known that. Lifting his champagne flute, he mouthed the words, “Good Luck,” to her. She inclined her head in regal acknowledgment.
May the best woman win.
LEANDRO SPUN his wineglass around and around on the white linen tablecloth and tried to keep his eyes from wandering to Claudia Dostis again. It was useless, however—she looked spectacular in a deep red velvet evening gown, and he was powerless to stop himself from seeking out the deeply shadowed V between her breasts. Idly he wondered if she was worried about one of her girls accidentally popping out to say “hello” during the evening—her dress was seriously cut almost down to her belly button. She must be using a hell of a lot of Hollywood tape, he figured. But it didn’t stop him fantasizing about the neckline of her top gaping or sliding open a fraction more. Just enough for him to see some nipple. One would be enough. For some reason, he’d developed something of a preoccupation regarding her nipples since she’d set foot in the room. He wanted to know what they looked like—whether they were small and pouty or large and swollen—what color they were, how they would feel beneath his hands, in his mouth, against his tongue. What sort of noises she’d make when he sucked on them, thumbed them, bit them.
Just your garden-variety obsession, really. One that had kept him in his seat for most of the evening, concealing the kind of hard-on he hadn’t enjoyed since senior high.
The bummer was, he wasn’t ever going to find out the answer to all those sensual conundrums. Claudia’s nipples would remain her little secret, for a host of good reasons he’d already gone over in his suite upstairs. Damn it.
A round of applause cut across his thoughts and he automatically brought his hands together. Dragging his eyes from the scarlet vixen across the way, he ran a finger down the awards list for the evening. One more announcement, and then they were up. He felt in his pocket to see if the speech he’d written earlier was still there, then surreptitiously used the back of his spoon to check that he didn’t have spinach stuck in his teeth.
When he glanced back at Claudia, she was smoothing on fresh lipstick and patting her sleek, shiny bob into place.
A waste of good makeup, he thought wryly. Sure hope she’s a good loser.
CLAUDIA SAT on the very edge of her chair, her hands hidden beneath the table as she clutched her speech between