After a few moments, the door to the accessible toilet swung open.
“Play your cards right and I’ll let you fuck me later,” a woman purred, her words slithering from behind the broad, hard physique of a tall man dressed in a fitted pink shirt and snug grey trousers.
Shannon’s eyes darted up, and the joy that had filled her just moments ago vanished into the charged air.
Her breath caught in her throat as she froze, her heart beating wildly against her ribs.
Jamie.
38
Shannon
A woman followed Jamie as he prowled out of the small space.
Reality swamped her chest, pain ripping her heart apart. Shattered pieces of hope caught fire, burning away any possibility of ever being with Jamie again.
Damn, he looked so good with his dress shirt sleeves rolled up, the cotton tight over the muscles she once traced with trembling fingers, every inch etched in her mind.
Not looking up, he swaggered into the corridor, checked his phone as if nothing had happened, and took a moment to drain his drink.
Shannon wanted to run, but her legs wouldn’t obey as she watched every confident move he made, unsure if fury or desire powered the dizziness sweeping through her.
Her pulse thrummed, her throat tight, as jealousy and longing mixed into a volatile, unspoken tension.
After a beat, he looked up, and everything stopped.
The glass in his hand wobbled, but his eyes—those beautiful amber eyes—locked onto hers.
His self-assured grin faltered, a shock of recognition changing his expression.
“Shannon…” he said her name, soft but charged, full of an intimacy that sent her heart skittering.
He took a step toward her, his gaze drinking her in. “You’re here. You look fucking amazing, love.”
Her breath hitched. And in that moment, every emotion, every question, every ounce of pain, collided.
The desperate need to have his lips on hers matched the wrongful impulse to slap his handsome face. However, those perfect lips of his had touched the woman behind him.
The pounding rhythm of her heart drowned out the distant chatter of people in the corridor, the clinking of glasses, and a man’s voice booming over the loudspeaker, announcing the next race.
All of it blurred into white noise as her gaze held his.
“Who are you here with?” The familiar scent of his cologne triggered a rush of anger, longing and confusion, all swirling into one electric storm.
Shannon opened her mouth to answer, to shout, to beg him for something,anything.
But she swallowed the words. Resentment bubbled up, though she knew deep down this wasn’t betrayal because they weren’t even together. And never had been.
Still, the sting burned, a bitter reminder of what she’d pushed away.
She hated how easily he’d picked up with someone else, yet his full attention drilled into her rather than the other woman. Jealousy coiled inside her, more painful than she ever imagined possible.
Behind him, Miss Fancy Pants re-applied her lipstick, oblivious to the stake she’s wedged in Shannon’s heart.
The woman’s floral bodice lifted her breasts, her thighs exposed in a short dress that made Shannon resent the bruises she wore even more.
A tremble in her hands followed a wobble to her knees, then her clutch slipped. When it landed, loose coins scattered across the floor, rolling to a stop at Jamie’s feet.
