“Oliver, remember.” His mouth brushed a tendril of her hair, smelled the cinnamon and vanilla of her skin, the temptation of her blood beneath.
“I think it’s your turn to ask me a question, Oliver,” she husked softly.
And then suddenly a voice burst in. “Clare, there you are, we’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
They jumped apart. Oliver cursed softly under his breath.
It was Saul’s wife, a pretty fae woman, and clearly, she was half cut. She teetered over on her high heels and grabbed Clare by the arm, dragging her back toward the French doors.
“We’re about to do the conga and everyone wants you there.”
“Oh no, no. Really,” Clare demurred. The pretty fae pouted and tugged harder.
“Please, hon, I’m the only female in the line-up,” she wheedled.
Clare shrugged, casting Oliver a look from under her lashes that he read as “Save me.” But tempting though it was, cold hard logic won out. Commanding her to stay would lead to gossip and speculation. It could potentially do Clare harm, and that was the last thing he wanted.
What you really want, you cannot have.
He’d already opened up way too much. Time to draw a line in the sand.
“Go,” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “You will have more fun.”
Her eyes flared for a moment, with hurt maybe.
“I was about to take my leave and head home,” he drawled. “Go back inside and enjoy yourself.”
She thinned her lips then, her face blanking in that way of hers, like she really didn’t think much of him at all.
He watched her until she was lost in the throng.
Then he turned his back on the merriment and drained his whiskey glass.
CHAPTER 5
Damn. He must have left already.
Clare tried to stifle the roil of disappointment in her gut. She’d escaped that stupid conga line as soon as she could. Every single person, even lovely Harriet, had drunk way too much and all Clare could think as the line shimmied up and down the room was how silly she felt, and how much she wanted to be back out on the balcony, continuing the conversation with her boss.
You wanted so much more than a conversation.
And now, she’d searched the whole venue, run back to the balcony, only to find it empty. She looked around the bar, but there were only a handful of her hardened drinking colleagues, guffawing at the bar. She even went and lurked outside the cloakrooms for a while in the hope he was in there. Finally, she went and peeped in the dining room, but it was empty except for waiters clearing away the dishes.
Dejectedly, she walked back toward the busy events room, where everyone was still dancing to the band of cheery goblins singing bad covers of popular monster songs.
Tomas, a centaur who she knew had a crush on her, came galloping over with a lascivious look on his face, and she spun onher heels and practically sprinted out of the room. Sighing, she went to grab her coat from the cloakroom.
All the time, she second guessed herself.
How had she read it all so wrong? No, she couldn’t have mistaken the chemistry between them, it had been sizzling hot, and yet… it was like he closed down, and suddenly lost interest in her as soon as Harriet appeared.
She felt like a kid whose party had gone badly wrong.
Grabbing her jacket and purse, she went out the front of the hotel to call a cab. At least she could relive the evening at home in her bed, dream of what could have been.
Just forget it.
Tightening her lips, she decided to walk home to ameliorate the pent-up sexual tension bubbling inside her.
