But by far the biggest shock of the morning had been the change in Cassie—grounded, academically brilliant, IQ-off-the-charts Cassie—the person Gina had always relied upon to give her a no-nonsense, pragmatic perspective on her own sometimes volatile emotions. Cassie had actually emitted something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle when talking about her upcoming wedding. Since when had her friend become a giggler? What else could have caused that but the Tuck Effect?
So now she had conclusive proof. Great sex could lead to dementia. And while she found it unbearably sweet that Reese, and Amber, and Cassie had found men who they were prepared to change their lives for, risking getting a dose of that dementia wasn’t for Gina. She was a single girl, who loved living her life solo. Men were great in small doses, especially when you needed that special flesh-on-flesh endorphin fix, but they were not an option for the long haul. Not for her.
She didn’t want to compromise her life, to adjust her dreams, to shrink her own ambitions to fit somebody else’s. And while Carter had certainly proved he could hit her happy buttons with a great deal more style and panache than any other guy she’d ever dated, he had also been the only man ever to come close to making her want more than great sex an
d stimulating small talk. And while that had happened a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away—she wasn’t interested in a return journey.
‘Hey, earth to Gina?’ Cassie waved a hand in front of her face.
Gina’s head jerked, making her bobble the mimosa she’d forgotten she had in her hand. She saved it in the nick of time from splattering her dress.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but Amber was asking if you had a preference for gold or silver trim on your gown.’
‘Oh, right, yes, I think silver,’ she said off the top of her head, trying to remember what colour her gown was, while four pairs of eyes looked at her quizzically.
‘Where were you?’ Cassie asked, a small frown on her brow. ‘You looked several light years away.’
‘Nowhere in particular.’
‘I think I can take a wild guess.’ Reese refilled her glass. ‘You weren’t somewhere in the vicinity of the Mystery Studmuffin, were you?’
‘The mystery what?’ Marnie asked.
Damn. She should have been paying attention to the conversation instead of wasting time thinking about the mystery studmuffin she was never going to see again.
Heat seared Gina’s neck as Reese toasted her with her flute.
‘Bingo.’ Reese winked at Marnie. ‘The Mystery Studmuffin is the hot guy Gina was with last night—and this morning while she was supposed to be with us. All we know about him so far is that he isn’t an American, he’s a hot enough date to give Gina a genetic compulsion to terrible time-keeping...’
‘Her date can’t have caused it if it’s a genetic compulsion, no matter how hot he is,’ Cassie corrected her.
‘Point taken...’ Reese continued, undaunted. ‘But he is hot enough to make the Unflappable Miss Carrington blush. So on a hotness scale of one to ten, I’m guessing the Mystery Studmuffin goes all the way to eleven.’
Marnie and Amber both laughed, while the blush climbed into Gina’s cheeks.
‘So who is he?’ Reese teased. ‘Enquiring minds want to know every intimate detail.’
‘Well, enquiring minds can mind their own business,’ Gina replied, pretty sure the blush was about to reach her hairline. ‘Unlike you lot, I’m not into shag and share.’
‘Since when?’ Reese looked genuinely surprised.
‘Since I became a grown-up.’ She slapped her glass down on the table, the hot ball of resentment in her stomach only intensifying the guilty heat now scalding her scalp. ‘And stopped banging every guy that took my fancy. Not that anyone here would believe that of Gina the Unflappable Whore.’
Reese’s teasing smile disappeared as her jaw went slack, while the other women’s eyes popped to the size of dinner plates.
‘Gina, I’m sorry, I was only messing with you,’ Reese murmured, looking thoroughly crestfallen.
Gina hoisted her purse off the floor and stood. ‘I should go,’ she said stiffly, wanting to apologise for the petulant outburst, but not sure how to do it without making things worse. ‘I’m tired and it’s making me more of a bitch than usual.’
Reese jumped up to press a hand to her arm. ‘Please, Gina, don’t go. I feel awful. No one thinks you’re a whore.’
Gina caught Marnie’s eye, and the other woman blinked, her face ashen, clearly shaken by the mention of the word that had once torn them all apart.
You would though, if you knew who I was really with last night.
She patted Reese’s fingers, then gently disengaged them from her arm. ‘Really it’s okay. I was being ridiculously oversensitive. And I really do need to crash. I’ll speak to you in the week about...’ she lowered her voice to a whisper so only Reese could hear ‘...you know whose surprise party.’
‘All right, if you’re sure.’