Cordie had deliberately been crazy busy all week so she wouldn’t have time to think about Aiden. Once she was on the road, she could cry her way to Boston if she wanted, even though her father wouldn’t approve of that behavior. Crying upset him, and whenever he saw tears, he would tell her to man up, which, all things considered, didn’t make a lick of sense.
There were a few good things she could concentrate on. The students she was tutoring suddenly figured it out. At first she could almost see the confusing chemistry problems tumbling around in their minds, and when things actually clicked, she felt a rush similar to euphoria. That “got it” moment was the reason she became a teacher. She would still be doing her job at St. Matthew’s if it weren’t for Aiden, but she was desperate not to follow in her father’s footsteps and long for someone she couldn’t have. Life was too short to waste, and she was ready for a fresh start.
“Why aren’t you in the shower?” Regan stood in the doorway of the kitchen with her hands on her hips. Her hair and makeup were done, and she wore her robe. “You’re not ready.”
“You’re not ready,” Cordie countered.
“All I have to do is put on my dress. Hurry up, Cordie. You’re going to have fun tonight.”
Cordie rinsed her glass and put it in the dishwasher. “How do you know I’ll have fun?”
Regan shrugged. “No one’s going to try to kill you. That’ll be fun.”
“There is that,” she said.
“You’ve got grease on your face.”
“I know.” Jayden had popped the hood and wanted her to look at the engine and check the connections. “I’m getting in the shower,” she promised and hurried up the stairs.
She wasn’t in the mood to pretend to be happy and smile and make inane conversation, but she was going to do exactly that, and no one, not even her best friends, would know her heart was breaking.
The sapphire blue gown she’d worn in Sydney had been cleaned and was hanging in the closet. Unfortunately, Miss Marie wasn’t there to oversee Cordie’s makeup and hair. She smiled thinking about the bossy woman and hoped one day she’d see her again.
After she’d dried her hair, she put on a little makeup—nothing as artful as Miss Marie’s work, but at least she looked more like herself. She left her hair down because the only other option she had was a ponytail, and she didn’t think that would be appropriate. When she was ready, she stood in front of a full-length mirror to check that everything was tucked in. Miss Marie was right, she decided; the gown was the exact color of her eyes.
Regan and Alec were waiting for her in the foyer. Regan was fixing Alec’s tie. They both turned as she came down the stairs.
“You look beautiful,” Regan said.
“You look beautiful, too, Regan,” she replied. It wasn’t an idle compliment. The deep burgundy gown was stunning on her friend.
Cordie was quiet on the way to the country club where the charity ball was being held. She sat in the backseat watching Alec tug on his collar.
Regan noticed. “Twice a year, Alec. You only have to wear a tux twice a year, so suck it up.”
Her husband laughed. “Suck it up?”
The mood lightened, and by the time they walked into the country club, they were all ready to have a good time.
The club was one of Chicago’s older establishments, but it had recently been remodeled, and the ballroom had been expanded to nearly twice the original size. It was beautifully appointed in a contemporary design. Two-story-high windows overlooked the lake and golf course. Crystal chandeliers shaped like glistening waterfalls hung from the ceiling and cast a soft light on the guests who mingled on the dance floor in the center of the room. Round tables decked out in white linens and gleaming crystal and silver lined the perimeter.
The band was tuning their instruments on the stage at the far end of the dance floor. Quite a crowd had shown up, and the laughter and champagne were flowing. It was a festive occasion, Cordie reminded herself, and time for her to stop being melancholy and get with it.
Alec found their table. Cordie thought she would sit and watch the couples dance, but that didn’t happen. As soon as the music started, she was pulled onto the dance floor by one of the most aggravating men. His name was Elliott, and he had chased after her all through college. He didn’t know how to take no for an answer, and like a pesky rash, he wouldn’t go away no matter how many times she tried to excuse herself. Forcing a smile, she tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but the romantic song the band was playing kept intruding.
The music finally ended. She stepped away from her partner and, politely refusing another dance, turned to go back to the table. She suddenly froze. Aiden was there, in the doorway talking to Jack and Sophie. Aiden in a tuxedo—there wasn’t anything in the world that could take her breath away like Aiden in a tuxedo. She stood in the center of the dance floor, all alone, watching him. Her mind was telling her to turn around and walk—or run—but her legs weren’t cooperating. She had thought she’d be able to get out of town without seeing him again. It had actually become a hope.
No such luck.
She could do this, she told herself. She would thank him yet again for taking such good care of her, kiss him on the cheek, and run like lightning. It seemed like a good plan of action until she reevaluated. Being a coward wasn’t such a bad thing, was it? Maybe she should just run now.
The music began—another romantic song, of course—and Elliott was back asking for one more dance. Before she could answer him, Aiden was there telling him no and taking her into his arms. Pressing his body to hers, he glided her away.
One dance. She could do one dance. Then she’d run.
“How is your arm?” he asked.
“Good. It’s good.”
He pulled her closer. “I’ve missed you.”
“You’ll get over it.”
His reaction was puzzling. He laughed and released his hold so he could look in her eyes. “You know what else I miss?”
“No, what?”
She was totally unprepared for his answer. “The sounds you make when I’m inside you.”
“Oh God . . .”
“And when you’re begging me to let you come—”
Her hand covered his mouth. “Stop talking like that,” she whispered. “People will hear.”
Her blush delighted him. “You know what else I miss?”
She buried her face in his chest. “Don’t you dare say it . . .”
“I miss the way your nails dig into my back, and I miss the way you say my name when you’re writhing in my arms.”
She groaned. “Please stop.”
He couldn’t resist. “I’ve never heard you say that.”
Her knees were going to buckle. Fortunately, he was holding her up. She realized she needed to get the upper hand.
“We have established that you like sex. I don’t need to hear any more reasons why.”
“I like sex with you. No, that’s not right. I love sex with you.”
She tried to push away from him. “You like skinny blondes,” she blurted.
“I . . . what?”
“You like skinny blondes.”
He was looking at her as though he thought she’d lost her mind, and she was beginning to think she had.
“I’m leaving for Boston in the morning,” she said.
“No.”
They were swaying to the music now, unaware that the band had stopped playing.