“Hey, Kiki.” Declan peered at the contents on her tray. “This looks interesting. Wait, let me guess. Shrimp and avocado with…” He seemed to be thinking hard. “Chutney?”
“He’s good,” Kiki said to me.
“Maybe.” I had no choice but to play along. “But what kind of chutney is it?”
“Something light-colored so…apricot?”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Nope.”
“Mango?”
“Ding ding ding! Mr. James gets five points for guessing what’s on the tray. Would you like to guess what’s on Gordie’s tray for a fifty?” I motioned to Gordie to join us.
“Sure.” Declan seemed to be enjoying the little game and it kept me from being alone with him.
Mr. Flavin was paying good money for the spread tonight so there were artisan hors d’oeuvres with ingredients that went beyond little wieners and mini quiches.
“Would you like to try one?” Gordie asked politely.
“No, he wants to guess what’s in it,” I said, holding out a cocktail napkin containing puff pastry and brie.
Declan inspected it carefully, squinting a little. “Hmm. Well, obviously, puff pastry and brie.”
“Yes, but what else besides the brie?” I asked.
“Chopped mushrooms,” he said firmly. “But I can’t tell what those other little pieces are. Do I get to taste it? I mean, if there’s cinnamon or cayenne pepper or something else in there, it’s almost impossible to tell by looking at it.”
“All right.” I pretended to relent and we all chuckled as Declan took a slow bite.
“What’s happening here?” Marla came over, stage-whispering to us. “Other guests need—”
“Shh!” Kiki held up a hand. “Declan is guessing what’s in everything. There’s fifty points on the line.”
Marla looked like she was about to protest but Declan met her gaze. “Definitely garlic and mushrooms.”
Marla nodded, somehow getting caught up in the game after a look from Declan. And I was painfully aware of how that worked with this guy. He was pretty irresistible, though I was doing my best.
“Apples?” He frowned a little, popping the rest of it in his mouth.
“And? One more major thing.” Now Marla was completely in the spirit of things.
“Nuts,” Declan murmured. “Walnut or pecan.”
“Well, if there’s fifty points on the line—I can’t tell you.”
We all waited.
“Pecans,” he said finally. “Garlic, mushrooms, apples, pecans and brie inside puff pastry.”
“He’s good,” Marla said. “But the night is still young and there’s a lot more food coming out. But the three of you have work to do.”
“What’s on that tray over there?” Declan asked, turning.
“That’s a hundred-point question,” Marla said, heading back toward the kitchen.
Kiki and Gordie took off after her and I looked at Declan wistfully.
“Unfortunately, I have to go.”
“I understand. But will you talk to me later?” He paused. “Please?”
How the hell was I supposed to say no to that? So I nodded. “All right.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
I felt his eyes on me as I moved away and didn’t dare look back because it felt like I’d promised him more than just food and a conversation.
* * *
The party was wild. It was supposed to be an upscale but casual affair to allow maximum conversation opportunities over food and drinks. I discovered that record industry people liked to drink, though, and as the evening wore on, things got louder and rowdier. I did my best to keep track of Declan but he was always surrounded by people and though our eyes met every time I was near, he was pulled from one group to another and while I had to keep replenishing my trays.
He was always watching, though, and it was a little unnerving because he was so damn sexy. And famous. I didn’t understand his interest at all, no matter how exciting it was.
“It’s okay to have sex for the sake of having sex,” Kiki whispered to me at one point, when I’d expressed my disbelief. “Why can’t you get naked with a hot rocker for one night?”
“Because I already did and this would be a second night and I don’t understand why he would want to.”
“Because you’re sexy and sweet and beautiful—the whole damn package. He’s probably imagining you feeding him those bacon things while you guys do the deed.”
“You’re seriously deranged.” I shook my head, laughing.
“Go slip him your number or something.” Kiki handed me another tray of champagne flutes.
I wasn’t the kind of woman who’d just slip a guy her number. Not even a gorgeous famous one like Declan, whom I’d already slept with. I wanted to, because I’d never had sex as good as the sex we’d had, but I’d grown up with an alcoholic mother, a younger brother who was an addict, and a father who’d succumbed to alcoholism in the last five years too. I’d had to grow up long before other kids my age, so I rarely threw caution to the wind, and that was exactly what sleeping with Declan again would be.
I’d been okay with a one-night stand but two nights could be dangerous for me. I wasn’t the casual sex type, so doing this again would set me up for feeling things I didn’t have time to feel. I’d been saving for culinary school since I’d graduated high school, and though my brother’s stint in rehab had set me back a few years, I was getting close again. There was no time for romance in my life.
Not that he was offering romance.
“Hello, beautiful.” I’d been so lost in thought, I hadn’t realized Declan was standing next to me as I gathered up empty glasses and plates from a table.
I looked up and there it was again—that look. The one that reminded me exactly what it was like when he was inside of me. How it felt to have his undivided attention for a little while.
Dammit.
I didn’t have time for these kinds of fantasies.
“I have to work,” I said abruptly, though it came out soft and breathy instead of the firm way I’d planned to say it.
“When do you get off work?”
“M-midnight.” Why was I stuttering? I was not some virginal schoolgirl.
“Then what happens?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“It was a one-time thing!” I protested under my breath.
“Is that a rule?” he asked, leaning against the wall. “One and done?”
“It’s not a rule. It’s just…” I huffed out a breath. “You’re really impossible, you know that?”
“If it wasn’t good, and you didn’t give what we did the other night a second thought, just say so and I’ll walk away.”
I sighed. “You know I can’t say that.”
“Then why are you so determined to deny us something we both want?”
“Because I’m working.”
“But you’ll get off soon.”
“Bri, can you stay late?” Marla came over to us looking frazzled. “We’re supposed to be done at eleven but Mr. Flavin wants a couple of you to stay late and keep serving champagne and whatever appetizers are left. You don’t have to pack up or anything. I’ll send a crew in the morning to do all that. And you can get an Uber home. I’ll cover it. He’ll pay double time, too.”