His expression clears. “I get it,” he says, nodding sagely. “You saw the ex. What’s his name? Liam? You mentioned you heard he was back in town. You look freaked out.”
“I am not freaked out,” I say. That’s right. I’m a horrible person who has no qualms about lying to a good friend’s face.
“Ah. So there’s some other reason why you look so hot and bothered.”
“I don’t look hot and bothered.”
Let’s just say he seems less than convinced, which doesn’t help my foul mood. Thankfully, he doesn’t call me on it.
“So how’d it go?”
“Wasn’t good,” I mutter, then disappear behind a healthy few swallows of champagne. “But I’ll be fine.”
Oh, how I wish that were true.
I decide that now is not the time to mention what a jolt to my system it was to see Liam Wilder staring at me again after all these years. For one thing, he’s insanely gorgeous with his Viking vibe going on. Tall. Blond. He’s got all the muscles, shoulders and physical presence anyone could ever want or need. His piercing hazel eyes always possessed the unholy talent of reading exactly what I want and need. Physically and emotionally.
Imagine being young and naïve enough to give your heart to the first guy who gives you an orgasm. Imagine thinking that you’ve met your soul mate at the age of twenty. Now imagine the heartache when you realize that the guy couldn’t be trusted to water your plants while you’re on vacation for a week, much less to hold your heart in his clumsy hands. Now quadruple that heartache and you’ll have some small idea of how hurt I was when my relationship with Liam blew up in my face. On second thought, cancel that. Multiply that heartache by ten and you’ll have some idea how foolish I feel right now upon realizing that, despite the distance of all these years and despite all those painful lessons learned, I’m still attracted to him. Still intrigued by him.
“Where is he?” Eric asks.
I take a discreet glance around, but there’s no sign of Liam in the crowd. I order myself to be relieved rather than disappointed by his renewed absence.
“I don’t see him.”
“So no lingering feelings? You’ll be fine if you see him somewhere with a date?”
I open my mouth to say something breezy and unconcerned, but sudden immobility strikes at the thought of Liam showing up at, for example, Lincoln Center Jazz with someone beautiful and accomplished on his arm. I’m not kidding you when I say that the mere idea makes me want to find a baseball bat and start smashing things with it. Which is ridiculous, because Liam is not the sort of man who’d spend twelve years—or even ten minutes, frankly—pining after a lost love. You’ll have to trust me on that. I’m sure that Liam has been through dozens (hundreds?) of women since the two of us were together.
But I never had to see him with them. That’s the thing. And I don’t want to start now.
“Liam Wilder is a free agent. I couldn’t care less where he slings his dick these days.”
Eric narrows his eyes and considers me closely. “I’m almost convinced.”
“Oh my God,” I say, my heart sinking. “I’m totally screwed, aren’t I?”
“You’ll be okay,” he says, surprising me with a bracing kiss on the cheek. “You’ll get it figured out.”
“From your lips to God’s—” I say, breaking off when a tall man materializes at my side, looming.
It’s Liam, I realize with dismay and an unwelcome shiver of excitement.
“Hope this guy isn’t bothering you, Starlight,” he says, his flinty and speculative gaze swinging between me and Eric.
My simmering temper notches a little higher. I’m not sure how many more times this jackass is going to interrupt my evening, but I’m close to my limit. The unabashed amusement from Eric as his brows shoot up and he mouths Starlight? at me don’t help matters.
Worse, Liam is right there. Right at my hip, where I can smell that amazing scent, some clean combination of linen, soap and warm skin. My entire body seizes up with the rightness and simultaneous wrongness of standing there like this. A thousand lifetimes ago, it would have been the most natural thing in the world to ease closer to him. If I had, he wouldn’t have hesitated to sling a possessive arm around me.
“I told you not to call me Starlight,” I tell Liam, who looks supremely unconcerned by my ire as he sips his drink with one hand and slides his free hand into his pocket. “Second, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I need your help to handle a man who may or may not be bothering me.”
“Sorry. Liam Wilder,” Liam says, withdrawing that hand again and extending it to Eric. “Guess I can’t count on Mia to make the introductions. She’s always been rude like that.”
“I have not—” I begin hotly.
“Eric Carson,” Eric says, shaking hands with Liam and working hard to smother his startled laughter.
“Pleasure,” Liam tells him. “So are you and Mia…?” He points back and forth between me and Eric in the universal gesture that could mean anything from “hooking up” to “married.”
“My personal life is none of your business,” I tell Liam, my outrage growing exponentially by the second. “Anything that ever happened between us is ancient history. Don’t forget that.”
“Mia and I are not,” Eric tells him, neatly deflecting the laser strikes from my eyes. He seems charmed by Liam, which is galling but no surprise. Most people are. “My fiancé would take a dim view of me getting too close with a woman a couple of months before our wedding. He’s jealous like that.”
“Best wishes,” Liam says, now beaming as though Christmas has come early.
“Appreciate that. And speaking of my fiancé, I’d better give him a call and check in. Be back in a few.”
With that, Eric takes off, leaving me alone and vulnerable. The traitor.
“Now we can have a drink,” Liam says, sliding onto a barstool and patting the empty one next to it before signaling to the bartender. “More champagne for Mia. I’ll have a scotch and soda.”
“I’m not having a drink with you,” I snarl.
“Fine. You stand near that empty barstool and sip your drink while staring straight ahead. I’ll do the same. Just make sure you don’t accidentally turn your head in my direction.”
I hesitate, torn between my desire to never give this man an inch and my annoying urge to prolong this interlude with him and see what happens. My intimate lady parts, which have always felt as though they are humming with electricity in his presence, vote enthusiastically for the latter.
“Sit, Mia Nova,” he says quietly, patting that empty stool again as his smirk slowly recedes. “We’re ancient history. You said so yourself. What could happen?”
There’s one thing I should mention.
Liam Wilder, in addition to being a ridiculously handsome Viking god in need of a ship, has soulful eyes. The kind of eyes that pull you in deep and keep you there even though there is a dangerous place where sharks circle and one drop of emotional blood in the water will lead to a feeding frenzy and your swift obliteration. The kind of eyes that stare into all your dark corners and don’t flinch at what they see. The kind of eyes that block out everything else in the world.