“Charlie Windsor,” he said, extending his hand.
The use of the Prince of Wales name did not register anywhere in the pretty blonde’s head, judging by her blank expression. She flipped her hair to one side before putting her hand in his, and blatantly trailed her fingers slowly across his palm. “It’s a pleasure, Charlie,” she said with a wink. “Are you with FG and B?”
“In a manner of speaking . . . they are associated with our firm,” he said, smiling as she skimmed his palm again.
“I’m not with them, either,” she said, now stirring her martini with the olive. “I’m an associate. They like to invite us to these things to remind us what we’re missing by not working at their firm.”
“And are you missing this?”
She shrugged a little as she looked around. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I can’t stand the thought of having to sleep with one of the toads who run the place. So . . . did you come alone?” she asked, moving, almost imperceptibly, closer to him.
“Yes, actually,” Flynn said, sipping his coffee. “My fiancée is in London.”
“Tsk, tsk, Charlie! Partying alone and so far from home!” she playfully admonished him, and looked up at him through a pair of very thick and long false eyelashes. “That’s really very naughty of you.”
She smiled saucily, and honestly, Flynn felt his wanker give him a bit of a nudge. What was he to do? He was a man after all, and a man who, regrettably, had not had any sort of carnal relations in quite some time, and the sort of smile she was pointing at him now was designed to catch his attention. There was plenty of time for surveillance work, wasn’t there? Surely he didn’t have to be on the clock 24/7. Flynn smiled wickedly. “It is quite naughty, isn’t it? I really ought to be punished for it. What do you suppose my punishment should be?”
“Ooh, I don’t know,” she purred, licking at that damn olive again. “Do you like spankings?”
“Adore them,” he said, and grinned, a little lopsidedly, as he moved closer to Marlene . . . but a movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye, and he turned his head before he could stop himself, still smiling—
And saw Rachel standing there in an apron, gaping at him. For a moment, she didn’t move, but then she suddenly turned away and disappeared into the crowd.
Blast it, this wasn’t very good then, was it?
From Rachel’s perspective, it was disastrous. She wanted to die, right there, in the middle of that fancy house with all those fancy skinny beautiful people around her—let them deal with that while they wore their stupid pilgrim hats. She could just imagine the scene, all gathered around her, cocktails in hand, peering down with looks of horror. “Do you think the poor thing is dead?” one would ask—
“Excuse me, miss? I’d like a scotch and water, neat,” a man said.
Rachel snapped out of it, nodded curtly to the man, and walked to the bar, asked Mike for a scotch and water, neat. He poured the drink, looking at Rachel the whole time. “You all right, kid? You look a little flushed,” he said.
“Do I?” she asked, absently putting a hand to her face. Which was flaming, naturally, because even though Flynn was the jerk, she was the one who felt like a moron. And here she was in a skirt that was literally exploding off her and a stupid apron, of all things! Not exactly the sexy image she wanted to put out there. Mike was still looking at her, however, and she quickly shook her head. “Nah, I’m fine. Just one too many turkeys in here.”
He laughed, handed her the drink. “Come see me if you need a little pick-me-up,” he said with a wink. “I’ve got access to all kinds of good booze.”
She smiled, put the drink on her tray, turned around—and almost collided with Flynn.
He had the presence of mind to jump back, and once he was assured she wasn’t going to pour a drink all over him, he relaxed and smiled “Rachel?”
Think, you idiot! her mind screamed. “Oh!” she said, looking very surprised. “Flynn? Is that you?”
“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”
Well, that was obvious. What, he hadn’t thought she’d be invited to some posh party in the swankest part of town? Even to serve drinks? Perhaps she had failed to mention that she was dead flat broke and on the verge of selling her blood to buy food.
“Yep,” she said, a little loudly. “I’m here!” And she laughed . . . unfortunately, it came out more like a horse’s whinny.
He smiled, seemed to wait for her to say more.
She was not going to say more, because she knew what it would be, something completely pathetic like, Why didn’t you call me? And as she had no desire to make an even bigger fool of herself, she smiled brightly, said, “Okay! Good to see you!” and stepped around him and tried to waddle off.
“Wait!” he said, before she could take a step, and of course she couldn’t help herself. Rachel turned around.