"He was laughing at me," she said, "not lusting for me." But the protest sounded false even to her own ears. There'd been a definite zing between them. But that didn't mean Shel was going to do anything about it. And even if she was inclined to pull on that thread, she honestly didn't know what to do or how to do it.
"Well, he's not laughing now," Celia said. "That's some serious lust in those eyes."
"You should go talk to him," Hannah said.
A shock of terror cut straight through Shelby. "Are you insane?"
"Hannah's right," Celia said. "You should."
Shelby tried to shake her head, but it came off as more of a trembling chin wiggle. "No way. Really. No. Freaking. Way."
"Oh, come on, Shelby. He's obviously interested." Hannah nudged her shoulder. "I'll go with you if you want. He's by the bar. We could go order a drink. Strike up a conversation."
"A drink? Another drink and I'll float away. In fact, I need the ladies' room." The combination of alcohol and nerves actually made the need rather urgent, and her stomach began to roil. "Oh, God," she said, clapping her hand over her mouth as she stood and stumbled toward the back of the bar.
"Oh, hell," she heard Hannah say, followed by the scrape of a chair. Then her friend was at her side, and they were hurrying to the restroom, and Shelby was fighting the ridiculous urge to laugh, because this never happened to her. And as mortifying as the whole thing was, she was really and truly having one heck of a good time.
They reached the restroom, and Shelby pushed the door. It was lighter than she expected, and it slammed in, banging against the back wall and making Shelby jump and someone inside the bathroom yelp. She caught Hannah's eye, and they both started laughing like loons.
"Come on," Hannah said, hooking an arm around Shelby's waist and leading her inside. Shelby stumbled, then looked up at Hannah as her head swam. "The floor is moving," she announced, suddenly realizing how much she'd had to drink. She hadn't felt it when she'd been sitting down. But now that she was up and moving ... whoa, Nellie.
She drew in a breath, but the extra oxygen didn't help much. She lifted her head, stared down all four of Hannah's eyes, and said as slowly and clearly as she could manage, "I totally blame you."
From across the small room, she heard a little gasp, followed by, "Shelby?"
Shelby blinked, then tried to focus on the pretty blonde standing by the sink. It took a second, and then it hit her, and Shelby grinned so wide it almost hurt. "Brooke Hamlin!" She stumbled toward the other woman, then threw her arms out and engulfed her in a hug.
Shelby had worked on the Hamlin family's taxes since before she took the CPA exam. Technically, her former boss was Judge Hamlin's accountant, but Shel had done the heavy lifting and had met everyone in the family on more than one occasion.
In fact, she and Brooke were close to the same age and had met for lunch once or twice after tax season was over.
Now, Shelby added an extra squeeze to her boisterous hug. "Isn't this the best party?" she said, not remembering that Brooke wasn't actually at their party until she responded with a dubious, "Um, yeah?"
Beside them, Hannah laughed as she thrust out her hand for Brooke to shake. "Hannah," she said in introduction. "Also known as Shelby's babysitter."
"Like hell," Shelby retorted, fully intending to explain why she didn't need a babysitter. Unfortunately, some Pinot Punch came up with her words, and so she clapped her hand over her mouth and stumbled toward the open stall, then locked the door behind her before crouching down as her stomach betrayed her.
She stayed on her haunches, breathing through her mouth just in case her stomach decided to go another round. Outside the stall, she heard Brooke and Hannah talking, and she rolled her eyes at Brooke's comment that there must have been an alien invasion because, "That's not Shelby."
"Isn't it awesome?" Hannah asked, her voice positively giddy. "We're here for a friend's bachelorette party, and I told Shel she had to let her hair down."
"You're evil," Shel called from the stall, then chuckled at Hannah's immediate retort of, "But you love me!"
While Hannah and Brooke continued to talk, Shel gathered herself, finally emerging when she was sure that she and the punch left in her stomach had come to an understanding. "Whoa," she said, heading for the sink and the dispenser of complimentary mouthwash. "I feel better."
And she did, too. The room was spinning less, and her head felt much more clear. Once she swished and spit, she felt positively human.
Hannah's lips twitched, and Shelby pointed an accusatory finger at her, but Hannah just hid her laugh behind a fake cough before turning to Brooke and asking if she'd like to join them.
"No, thanks. I need to get going."
"You sure?" Shelby pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Because it's really so awesome to see you."
"You, too," Brooke said, and from the way she laughed, Shel was sure that Brooke thought she was still drunk. Which maybe she was. A little, anyway.
"Come on," Brooke added. "I'll walk out with you, at least."
They traipsed out together, moving through the crowd toward the front corner where the laughing, drinking group of bachelorette party-goers now waved at Shelby and Hannah, urging them to hurry back because the bartender, Cam, had delivered two more pitchers of that deliciously dangerous punch.
Of course, the shortest way back was to walk parallel to the bar, and that put her right in front of the group of men with whom Mr. Hottie had been hanging.
Shelby told herself she shouldn't look, but she couldn't help it, and the next thing she knew, she was bumping into Brooke as she reached for Hannah's arm and pulled her to a stop. "He's still there," she whispered, shooting a surreptitious glance toward Mr. Hottie. "Do you think he's--oh, shit. He's looking this way."
Those eyes. He'd just completely nailed her with those gorgeous eyes. And, yes, Shelby was still a little loaded, but she felt the impact of that look all the way down to her toes. And she was pretty sure it wasn't because of the alcohol.
"Just go talk to him." Hannah gave her a little shove, but Shelby wasn't about to budge. "He's obviously noticed you. And you have so noticed him."
"Who?" Brooke asked, and Shelby whipped around to face her, mortified that someone other than Hannah had witnessed her moment of lust.
"Him," Hannah said, but before she could lift a finger to point, Shelby yanked her arm down, almost losing her balance in the process. Four-inch heels and Pinot Punch were not a safe combination.
"Don't point! The cute guy right there," she told Brooke. "With the short hair and the The best mornings have Wood T-shirt."
Then Brooke did the unthinkable. She raised her hand and actually waved at the guy.
"Oh. My. God." Shelby wanted to melt into the floor right then. Was Brooke insane? "Why are you waving at him?"
Brooke shrugged, totally nonplussed. "He's a friend. His name's Nolan Wood. And the tacky shirt is the name of his show. Mornings With Wood. He does crazy ass commentary for one of the local radio stations."
"You know him?"
"Casually. He was going out with a friend."
"Oh." A disconcerting wave of disappointment crashed over Shelby. Ridiculous, since it wasn't as if she intended to go out with the guy. He just happened to be very pleasant to look at.
"He's single now, I think," Brooke continued, her tiny smile suggesting that she understood Shel's disappointment. Except, of course, that Shel hadn't been disappointed.
Really.
"Just go," Hannah urged before turning to Brooke. "I keep telling her to go introduce herself and say hi."
Brooke looked from Hannah to Shelby. "I can introduce you."
She said more after that, but those four little words had taken up all the space in Shelby's brain, and she didn't hear anything else until Hannah gave her a little shove in the direction of the men.
"Yes. Perfect. Go."
"But--"
"Go," Hannah repeated as the band playing on the stage at the othe
r side of the room ended their set and people started to shuffle toward the bar.
"We'll all go," Brooke said, beginning to thread her way through the increasing crowd. Shelby followed for a bit, but then her nerves got the better of her and she held back, despite Hannah's persistent urging.
After a moment, Brooke paused, turned around, and then headed back toward Shelby and Hannah with an amused smile playing at her lips.
"I can't believe you were going to walk right over to him," Shelby said.
"Well, I thought I was going with you," Brooke replied. She said something else, too, but a rowdy frat boy shouting at his friend blocked all but Brooke's last words. "He doesn't bite."
"At least not unless you ask him to," Hannah quipped.
"I really can't," Shelby said. "I mean isn't it..." She shook her head and drew a deep breath. "I'm not usually so bold. Are you?" she demanded, wishing she could get into Brooke's head. The other woman seemed so confident.
"Me?"
Shelby nodded. "Yeah. Would you ever throw caution to the wind like that?"
Brooke's expression turned wistful. And maybe a little sad. "I have," she said. "I did."
"Oh." Shelby and Hannah exchanged glances. "What happened?"
Brooke blinked. "I fell in love," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
"Careful," Hannah teased. "You might scare her off."
Brooke shook her head, as if clearing her thoughts, then smiled at Shel. "Go talk to him." She started to raise her hand to signal Mr. Hottie, but then she froze. For a moment, she simply stood there, and Shelby finally realized that she was staring at a good-looking bearded man holding a highball glass.
She turned back to Shelby and Hannah, her expression a little shell-shocked. "I--I forgot something in the ladies' room. Y'all go on ahead. Nolan's a really nice guy. Just introduce yourself."
"What--" Shelby began, but Brooke hurried away before she could finish the question, and Shelby was left standing beside Hannah, more than a little baffled.
"What was that about?" Hannah asked, but Shelby could only shrug.
"Come on. Celia's probably wondering what we're doing."
"Oh, no," Hannah said, grabbing Shelby's wrist. "Just because you lost your wingman does not mean you have to abandon your mission."
Shelby blinked, her mind too fuzzy to make sense of Hannah's words.
"I mean go," Hannah said. "You're a gorgeous, smart, interesting woman fueled by liquid courage. There is no reason why you can't walk up to the guy, smile at him, and ask if he wants to buy you a drink."
"But--"
Hannah put her hand on her hip and stared Shelby down. "But what?"
Shelby had intended to point out that she really didn't need another drink. Instead, she shook her head. "Nothing."
She swallowed, then glanced toward the guy. Nolan. Brooke said his name was Nolan. He'd shifted to make room for the newcomers at the bar, so he was no longer looking her direction. But as if he felt her eyes on him, he tilted his head a bit to the side. And then, very slowly, he looked over his shoulder.
Zing!
His eyes found hers immediately, and in that instant, she forgot how to breathe. Her chest tightened, and her skin prickled from the electricity arcing between them. And for one breathless, wonderful moment, she lost herself in the fantasy of his touch. His hands on her waist. His breath on her neck. His lips at her mouth.
Good grief, she really was drunk.
The thought slammed against her, and she took an involuntary step backward. And it was only when she stumbled on those damn four-inch heels that she realized he'd moved from his place at the bar to right in front of her. He reached out, one hand taking her elbow and the other sliding around her waist to keep her from falling. As if she hadn't fallen hard already.
"I've got you," he said, his rich, low voice as intimate as a caress.
Some tiny sober corner of her mind pointed out that Hannah had slipped back to the party. That Shelby was alone with Nolan. That Nolan was holding her close, probably feeling her heartbeat.
That this was her chance--and she'd damn sure never get another one.
She drew in a trembling breath as she gathered her courage, searching for the perfect words for this perfect moment.
"I'm sorry," she blurted, as intellect and moxie both failed her completely. "But you really need to let me go."
Chapter Four
Nolan leaned against the bar, a longneck in one hand and his eyes on his dark-haired paradox.
A regular at The Fix, he'd come tonight to wash away the bad taste that had been lingering on his tongue ever since Connor had briefed him on the news that Lauren was in town. The beer hadn't made a dent, but the girl ... wowza.
It wasn't every day that a woman captured Nolan's attention so completely.
And it really wasn't every day that a woman ran from him. On the contrary, ever since the station had put his face on a few billboards and Connor had set up the live streaming on his social media accounts, not a day went by that he wasn't propositioned.
Nice for his ego--except when it wasn't. Because Nolan knew damn well that those women only wanted a piece of his celebrity, however minor and local it might be.
That, and his cock.
Not this girl, though...
She, apparently, didn't want him at all. Despite spending much of the evening stealing glances at him and blushing a pretty shade of pink.
The girl was a paradox, that was for sure. And one he desperately wanted to solve.
"Earth to Nolan. You still with us, man?"
Nolan glanced over at Reece Walker, who'd sidled up beside him, a beer of his own in his hand. "You know that girl?" He nodded toward the dark-haired paradox. Considering Reece managed the bar, if anyone recognized her, it would probably be Reece.
Reece ran his hand over his shaved scalp as he studied the scene. "Sorry. Haven't seen her in here before." He tilted his head back, indicating the bartender. "You ask Cameron?"
Nolan nodded. "No luck there, either. He's seen a few of the girls once or twice, but not the one in the aqua glasses." He took a sip of beer, then swallowed. "That's okay," he added, shooting his friend a wry glance. "I have my ways."
Reece chuckled, but didn't comment. Nolan figured that was for the best. He'd known Reece most of his adult life, ever since Nolan's stepsister Amanda had shared a dorm room with Jenna Montgomery, one of Reece's best friends. And after so many years, Reece knew Nolan just a little too well.
"By the way," Reece asked, "did Jenna talk to you about doing some shout-outs for The Fix on your show?"
Nolan nodded. "Just in passing. We planned for her to come to the studio sometime this week to talk details and review some sound effects for the spots. But Amanda filled me in when I saw her at Mom and Huey's on Sunday."
Jenna had been in a rush when she'd explained that the bar was in a financial crisis and that they could really use his help getting the word out about some new promotions and events they had going on to try to increase revenue. He'd told her to count him in for whatever they needed, and they'd planned to talk more seriously at the KIKX studio.
Then, when Amanda had told him the details about what Jen wanted him to promote, he'd laughed so hard, he'd almost spit out the Scotch and soda his stepfather had made him as a pre-dinner cocktail.
"And you're sure it's cool?" Reece pressed. "With the station? With you? We could really use the publicity for the bar and the contest."
"Are you kidding? It's like an avalanche of comedy gold. Guys strutting shirtless across a stage to be in a calendar. Hell, yes, I'm in."
"Good. Just remember the idea is to draw the customers in, not scare them off."
Nolan held up a hand in the Boy Scout salute. "I promise to treat the whole thing with the respect it deserves."
Reece rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should enter the contest. That really would be funny."
"Nice. Very nice."
Reece just clapped him on the back, thanked him f
or helping out, then told Cam to comp his drinks. Sometimes, it really was good to have friends.
At the moment, though, he was wishing that his dark-haired paradox didn't have quite so many. She was still surrounded by bachelorette party-goers who showed no signs of slowing down, despite the fact that it was almost midnight on a work night.
He frowned, cursing the gaggle of girls. He wanted to get her alone. He wanted to taste those lips. Hell, he wanted to ask her why she'd bolted.
He set his empty bottle aside, then signaled to Cam for another. As he waited, he leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest as he considered the problem. Hell, maybe he should just walk away. Maybe she wasn't interested in him at all.
But then she turned, her eyes finding him before darting away again, as if he was her guilty little secret. He bit back a self-satisfied grin. Because he'd figured something out. She wasn't playing hard to get. She was hard to get.
And that was all Nolan needed to know.
Fighting a grin, he turned around to take the fresh bottle from Cameron, then he put in a brand new order, too. A little bit of ammunition for his spur of the moment plan.
A few minutes later, he watched as one of the waitresses approached the dark-haired woman with a tall glass full of ice, a clear liquid, and a twist of lime. His paradox frowned, clearly confused, then listened as the waitress pointed in Nolan's general direction. Then his paradox's brow furrowed and she pointed to her friends and their cluster of tables, now littered with a slew of drained glasses and half-empty Pinot Punch pitchers.
He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew she was protesting that she'd had enough to drink already. And when he saw the perfect lips on that gorgeous wide mouth form the words, "I can't," it was almost as if he could hear her sweet, sexy purr.
Her blonde friend came to her side just as the waitress was explaining something. He saw his paradox frown, clearly confused, and then he saw her friend's smile widen in what could only be pure, devious delight.
Then his paradox turned his direction, and when their eyes met, he was struck with a wave of such pure desire that he almost put a stop to his whole ridiculous plan right then. It had been one hell of a long time since he'd craved a woman this much, and he wasn't much sure he liked the feeling.
Then again, maybe he liked it too much.