It was a lie, of course. My hair clung to my sweat-damp temples and neck in a sticky tangle. I didn’t care. The music raged on, songs sliding into each other.
I reveled in the utter sensuality of the venue and the shameless drive for casual sex that everyone seemed to exude. I was pressed between a couple—the girlfriend at my back and her boyfriend at my front—when I spotted someone I knew. He must have seen me first, because he was already working his way toward me.
“Martin!” I yelled, breaking out of my bump-and-grind sandwich. In the past, I’d only crossed paths with Stanton’s nephew during the holidays. We’d met up once since I moved to New York, but I hoped we would eventually see each other more.
“Eva, hi!” He caught me up in a hug, then pulled back to check me out. “You look fantastic. How are you?”
“Let’s get a drink!” I shouted, feeling too parched to hold a conversation at the decibel level required in the crowd.
Grabbing my hand, he led me out of the crush and I pointed to my table. The moment we sat down, the waitress was there with another vodka and cranberry.
It’d been that way all night, although I’d noted that my drinks were getting darker as the hours progressed, a sure sign that the vodka-to-cranberry ratio was slowly becoming more cranberry than not. I knew that was deliberate and was suitably impressed by Gideon’s ability to carry his instructions from club to club. Since no one was stopping me from supplementing with shots, I didn’t mind too much.
“So,” I began, taking a welcome sip before rolling the icy-cold tumbler across my forehead. “How have you been?”
“Great.” He grinned, looking quite handsome in a camel-hued V-neck T-shirt and black jeans. His dark hair wasn’t nearly the length of Gideon’s, but it fell attractively across his forehead, framing eyes that I knew were green although no one would be able to tell in the club’s lighting. “How’s the ad biz treating you?”
“I love my job!”
He laughed at my enthusiasm. “If only we could all say that.”
“I thought you liked working with Stanton.”
“I do. Like the money, too. Can’t say I love the job, though.”
The waitress brought his scotch on the rocks, and we clinked glasses.
“Who are you here with?” I asked him.
“A couple friends”—he looked around—“who are lost in the jungle. You?”
“Same.” I caught Lacey’s eye on the dance floor and she gave me two thumbs up. “Are you seeing anyone, Martin?”
His smile widened. “No.”
“You like blondes?”
“Are you hitting on me?”
“Not quite.” I raised my brows at Lacey and jerked my head toward Martin. She looked surprised for a minute, then grinned and rushed over.
I introduced them and felt pretty good about the way they hit it off. Martin was always fun and charming, and Lacey was vivacious and attractive in a unique way—more charismatic than beautiful.
Megumi made her way back over and we did another round of shots before Martin asked Lacey to dance.
“You got any other hot guys in your pocket?” Megumi asked, as the couple melted away.
I was wishing I had my smartphone in my pocket. “You’re miserable, girl.”
She looked at me for a long minute. Then her lips twisted. “I’m drunk.”
“That, too. Want another shot?”
“Why not?”
We did a shot each, polishing them off just as Shawna came back with Lacey, Martin, and his two friends, Kurt and Andre. Kurt was gorgeous, with sandy brown hair, square jaw, and cocky smile. Andre was cute, too, with a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes and shoulder-length dreadlocks. He focused on Megumi, which cheered her right up.
Our expanded group was roaring with laughter in no time.
“And when Kurt came back from the bathroom,” Martin finished his story, “he sacked the whole restaurant.”
Andre and Martin started howling. Kurt threw limes at them.