Taste for Trouble (47 page)
“Oh
my God,” Will said, alarm snuffing out jealousy in a sudden rush. James was
happy, and Will was happy for him. Truly. But there was a limit to what Fate
could ask of a guy. Wasn’t there? “You’re going to do this now?”
Bel
said, “Ring?”
James
shoved a hand into his pocket, came up with a pretty velvet box and held it out
to her. “Ring.” He looked a little sick, Will noted faintly. That made him feel
better. Marginally. “For you.”
She
reached for the box and set it on the flat of her hand, unopened. “What kind of
ring?” she asked. She looked a little faint herself.
“The
kind you put on your finger,” James said. “Open it.”
“No,
I mean, what does it mean?”
“Mean?”
Bel
swallowed audibly. “Is it a friendship ring? A promise ring? An
I-really-like-you-a lot-so-merry-Christmas ring?”
He
snatched the box off her palm and wrenched it open. “It’s a goddamn diamond
solitaire,” he snapped. “The I-love-you-for-the-rest-of-my-life,
I-might-barf-if-you-don’t-put-it-on-soon kind, okay? The
marry me
kind. Is
that clear enough for you?”
Bel
launched herself into his arms while he was still scowling. “Crystal,” she
said, and kissed him with an open-mouthed invitation that had Will spinning
hastily away from them.
“Well!
Congrats, you two. I’m just going to—” They didn’t hear him. He didn’t care. He
located the exit and punched through it with a sigh of relief.
And
mowed down Audrey Bing in the hallway.
He
stood there like a complete fool and watched her go down in a glorious swirl of
moonlight hair and movie-star curves. She landed on her world-class rump in the
hall, and stared up at him, her violet eyes wide and startled. Then they
narrowed with dislike. Her beauty was, as usual, a short-armed punch to the
solar plexus and Will’s mouth went desert-dry.
Unfortunately,
it didn’t go silent.
“Hey,
Audrey.” He heard his own voice with a sort of horrified surprise. “Fancy
running into you here.”
There
was a knowing smirk in his voice, he noted with a sinking dismay. As if he were
subtly accusing her of lurking in hallways in the hopes that she might
accidentally-on-purpose plaster herself up against him.
It
was an automatic thing at this point, he knew. Some kind of knee-jerk defense
mechanism his desperate nervous system had dreamed up to neutralize that
disabling blast of sexual awareness Audrey Bing always wrenched from him. To an
extent, it worked. She hated him, deeply and truly. Only a self-destructive ass
would make a move—a doomed move—on a woman who’d rather see his head on a spike
than his hand on her knee.
Good
thing you’re not a self-destructive ass...oh, wait.
Shut
it, Bob.
He
sucked in a whistling breath, aware even now of his pulse thundering, of the
way the very air between their bodies seemed super-charged and thick with
danger. Or something. He pulled a slow hand down his face and forced the breath
out of his lungs.
“Jesus,
Audrey, I’m sorry.” He held out a hand to the woman still glaring at him from
the floor. “Are you all right?”
“I’m
fine.” She ignored his hand and came to her feet with a fluid grace that made
his pulse beat in his ears. Was he blushing? Oh, God, he thought he might be. He
swallowed, conscious of his stupid, knobby throat working. She brushed off her
jeans and glared at him.
“Listen,”
he said with strained calm. No time like the present. “Do you have a minute? I’d
like to talk—”
She
brushed past him and disappeared into the kitchen set, presumably to find Bel
or James or whoever she’d come here to find. Certainly not him.
She
couldn’t avoid him forever, he thought grimly. Just like he couldn’t avoid her.
Wouldn’t
avoid her. Wouldn’t allow himself the luxury. No, he’d damaged
Audrey Bing. And he was by God going to fix her. Whether she wanted him to or
not.
TALENT FOR TROUBLE, coming
soon!
Susan Sey lives and writes in
St. Paul, Minnesota, with her wonderful husband, their two charming children
and a whole lot of snow. In addition to producing smart, sexy contemporary
romances on an annual basis, Susan is also the proud owner of a filthy house, a
broken oven and a cranky van whose off-and-on relationship with the check
engine light is driving her crackers.
She loves ice cream, her
family and happy endings, though not necessarily in that order. She does not
enjoy laundry, failure or mowing the lawn, but rises to the occasion as
necessary.
If you enjoyed this book,
please consider spreading the word by giving it a positive
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. She would be eternally grateful, and might even celebrate by doing an
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