by all of this? Was this mere seduction? Or a gesture of kindness? Her heart thudded so fast she thought she might faint.
He strode forward from the throng of people and pulled her into a quick hug. ‘I changed my mind about the party once we got to talking,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘I thought it would be more fun to have a party for you.’
Her fingers touched his smooth jacket briefly, the contact with his body far too brief. He pulled back and looked at her for a split second, a shot of truth in his gaze—serious, sweet sincerity.
So all the things he’d asked her about hadn’t been for Lauren, but for her? No wonder he’d wanted to know which mousse she’d preferred. She blinked rapidly, emotion slamming into her. Pleasure, disbelief, gratitude, confusion.
She went cold again—and hot. She wanted this, she appreciated this, she did. But part of her wanted to escape as well. Part of her wanted to be alone.
Okay, not alone. She wanted to be with Brad.
Brad had lost all ability to move the moment he saw her. For a snatched moment of time his heart had stopped, his muscles froze solid, his brain shut down completely. When his system started again, it sped straight to a higher rate than usual. Adrenalin coursed through his veins and desire shot straight to his groin. Yeah, that was the part of him most affected. He drew a deep breath and forced his body to relax. Mya had made it more than clear it wasn’t happening. And that was fine. He was man enough to handle rejection. Except she didn’t look as if she was saying ‘no’ now. Her green eyes were wide and as fixed on him as his were on her. He’d known all along she was attracted to him, but determined not to have a hot affair. He could respect that. He was a man, not an animal, and all this tonight really hadn’t been about trying to make it happen. Only now he finally saw it—the surrender in her eyes, the seduction.
The yes.
She was in that dress. That damn beautiful pink prom dress, with her breasts cupped high and ribbons trailing down her bare back. His attempt to hold back his body’s reaction began to falter. When she looked at him like that? His muscles bunched, rigid with the urge to push her three steps back to the wall and screw her ‘til she screamed. Nothing sophisticated, nothing smooth. Just a wild-animal moment to assuage the white-hot lust consuming him.
But they were in a roomful of people and that wasn’t the show he had planned for them. And it wasn’t what she truly wanted either. She had her other priorities and he could respect them, right?
The only way he’d get through the night alive was to stay away from her and focus on his host duties. He’d been crazy taking this on, on top of his overfull caseload. He’d challenge Mya for her ‘world’s most busy’ title. But he’d done it. And that look on her face had been worth it. Now he could only hope she appreciated the other things he had planned for the evening. But jumping her wasn’t on that list.
Mya was aware of Lauren watching her so she forced her gaze off Brad’s tall frame as he disappeared back into the throng. ‘This is unbelievable.’ She smiled at her best friend.
‘So good.’ Lauren grabbed her hand. ‘Come on, I heard a rumour about crazy cocktails.’
They were there—listed on a chalk-board with Jonny standing behind the bar rolling his eyes over the contents. Mya grinned and ordered the only alcohol-free option—she needed to keep her wits about her.
A crowd formed around her—friends she hadn’t seen or been able to have fun with in ages, workmates with whom she’d never been able to just hang out. Conversation was fast and snatched and fun, and she tried so hard not to keep watch for Brad. She was determined to enjoy this—the first party ever thrown for her.
But an hour or so into it, the lights suddenly dimmed dramatically.
‘What’s happening?’ Mya leaned close to Lauren as the music switched so suddenly nothing but fierce drumming hit max volume.
‘I have no idea.’
Mya stared transfixed as about twenty black-clad figures swooped in, suddenly clearing a path through the crowds and pushing giant black boxes around the floor. The drums continued while the shadows put some kind of construction together.
Brad, looking sexier than a man had any right to be, was suddenly lit up from an overhead spotlight and appeared taller than ever. She realised those black-clad figures had created a small stage of sorts that extended down the middle of the room. Mya, like everyone else in the place, was stunned into immobility.
‘If you don’t mind, everyone, there’s something we need to do tonight.’ Brad’s voice boomed out. He had a microphone?
The black cloths that had been covering the windows behind him dropped, revealing two giant screens. The spotlight went off Brad while on screen an old-style countdown reel played. The guests joined in counting down. As they got to one the entire bar went pitch-black.
In the pregnant pause, Mya leaned in to Lauren. ‘When did he set this up?’
‘You’re asking me?’ Lauren giggled. ‘He didn’t let me in on this bit. I just had to get you here.’
‘You know we’re here to celebrate Mya’s birthday tonight. But the thing that you and I all know, but that Mya doesn’t quite believe yet, is that not only is she an amazing academic and gifted cocktail creator, she’s also an artist. And so for tonight, we’re turning this place into an art gallery and seeing what other marvellous things Mya has done.’
‘He’s what?’ Mya asked, clapping her hand over her mouth to hold back the shriek.
Now she understood what the stage really was—a runway. And walking along the runway now were models. Slim, gorgeous girls in black bikinis and boots, modelling her hats, her accessories, her dresses that she’d created in her teen years and in the first couple of years at university. Where the hell had he got them all from?
She turned to Lauren, who held her hands up in the classic ‘don’t shoot’ pose and shook her head at the same time.
She glanced at Brad and couldn’t contain the crow of delighted laughter. Naturally he’d found a way to get bikini-clad women on the scene. The crowd cheered and clapped, and she couldn’t blame them as the leggy beauties strutted the length and Brad gave a running commentary on each item.
‘There was a time in Mya’s life when we all looked forward to seeing what it was she was wearing—the accessories, the clothes, sometimes the shoes.’
Everybody laughed as a picture of silver-marker-decorated gumboots flashed up on the screens.
‘She moved into this world of recycled clothing, making new from the old, turning someone else’s rubbish into art for herself. Maximalist, statement clothing. More than clothing. It was wearable art.’
Mya gazed at both stage and screen, her heart swelling. He’d created a multimedia display—a live modelling show interspersed with images from the past flashing up on those giant screens and a soundtrack made up of her fave teen beats. She pressed her freezing palm to her hot forehead. All those DJ picks he’d texted her. The really cheesy ones she’d sent back. He’d made a music mashup and photo montage, and it was all so embarrassing and wonderful at the same time.
‘Of course, she designed for men as well,’ Brad said as the tempo of music changed.
Oh, my. Mya’s jaw dropped and she gripped Lauren’s hand, giggling now. Because she’d never designed anything for a guy. But there was an extremely buff guy up there now in nothing but black boxers and some sort of butchered baseball cap. She hadn’t designed it for a man, though one could wear it, of course, but it had just been for the fun of it. And the tie that was now being displayed by another guy with very little else on, that had been her school tie that she’d redecorated in a rebellious fit one day. But that mega-buff guy in nothing but black boxers really knew how to show it off.
‘So come on, everyone, give it up for Multifaceted Mya.’
Oh, no, someone had switched the lights on her. Literally shone the light on her, and some gorgeous thing came down to where she sat with Lauren. It was the buff guy with the cap. Nothing but the boxers and the cap. Mya looked over at Brad and saw
his mouth twitching with amusement as he spoke.
‘While Mya makes her way to the runway, here are a couple of stills from the collection where we can see her talent at her best.’
Mya froze on her seat. He couldn’t be serious—she had to walk up there? And OMG there were huge photos of her up on those screens?
The black-clad male model extended his hand to her. She had no choice but to take her turn down the damn runway with the hot stuff at her side.
‘Let’s face it,’ Brad concluded. ‘The lady has an abundance of talent.’
Everyone in the place was on their feet and cheering.
Mya looked at Brad and saw his smile. Tender, a little mocking—self-mocking perhaps—but genuine. It pierced straight through the last thin layer of defence she had left and exposed her to the full glare of his attraction. In every cell, all the way to her toes it hit—how gorgeous he was.
He wasn’t just sexy and funny and handsome. He was nice, thoughtful and caring. It was a side of him she’d never wanted to acknowledge. She’d preferred to keep him in the slutski spoilt-man stereotype. Mr Superficial Playboy. That was the easy way out. But the truth was he was utterly outrageous, utterly unashamed and yet utterly kind.
The lights came back on, and Lauren came up as the bar music resumed.
‘It was all her idea.’ Brad curved his arm around Lauren’s shoulders and drew her close.
‘That’s not true.’ Lauren shook her head firmly.
‘Lauren found everything.’ Brad gave his sister a sharp look.
‘He came up with it when we were playing tennis at the club the other week.’
‘It was supposed to be a party for you,’ Mya said, too shaky inside to look at Brad at this moment.
‘I don’t need a party.’ Lauren shrugged. ‘I go to parties all the time.’
‘I’m getting you back for your birthday,’ Mya promised.
Lauren just laughed as one of her boys claimed her for the dance floor.
‘How did you do all this?’ Mya asked Brad, her mouth dry and still not looking at him.
‘I had help,’ he confessed. ‘With the catwalk and the lighting and the music and stuff.’