Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(28)

Her ex has to lift his chin to look me in the eye. “Alex can speak for herself.”

“Normally, yes. But you haven’t shown a lot of patience for her viewpoint in the past. Or am I wrong about that? Maybe I’m a dick, but I’d never hit her.”

“Jesus,” he hisses as heads begin to turn. “That was a fluke.”

“A fluke?” Alex yips from behind me. “That’s just insulting. Did your hand find my face by accident?”

“Why don’t you just fluke off right now?” I say, taking a step closer to him, which forces him to take a step backward. “Did you know I hit guys for a living?”

His lip curls, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s dumb enough to punch me. But Alex was right. He’s here to impress, and there are too many people watching. After another beat of enraged silence, he turns his back and strides away from us and then right out of the party.

“Well. “ I dust my hands against each other. “That’s taken care of. Now let’s handle your thing.”

“Right. In a second.” Alex takes a sip of her drink, and I notice her hand is shaking.

“Hey!” I pull her against me. “Everything is fine. That went exactly like I expected.”

“I’m usually good in a fight, I swear.” She presses her face against my lapel. “But that man makes me so nervous.”

“We could just bail on this party,” I point out.

“No way.” She stands up straighter. Then she takes my glass out of my hand and maneuvers toward the bar. “Could you pour some gin into his drink?” she asks the bartender. “I think he deserves it.”

The guy grabs a bottle of Plymouth off the top shelf and tips it over my glass. “Well done, man. You won’t be hearing from him again. Drink’s on the house.”

“Thanks.” I grab a straw and stir up my cocktail. “I did fly five thousand miles to tell that guy off.”

Alex just shakes her head. “Ridiculous, right?”

“Nah, it was kind of fun. Now, who did you need to see?”

“He’s over there.” She takes my hand and squeezes it.

As her fingers close around mine, just for a second I feel like that kid on Martha’s Vineyard again—ready for trouble, and ready to follow Alex to the next adventure.





10





Alex





I have to admit that Eric’s caveman routine was kind of hot. If anyone finds out how much I enjoyed the sight of a man defending me, I’ll have to turn in my lady-boss card.

I’m blaming that on the pregnancy hormones, too, I decide as we maneuver through the crowd. There’s a dance floor in the center of the action, where quite a few couples move together to the music of a four-piece band.

“I thought this would be a sausage fest,” Eric says, his hand still in mine. “Do all tech conferences have dancing?”

“No,” I tell him with a glance over my shoulder. “But most tech conferences are in Vegas. This one is special. The wives and husbands like to come along to this one.”

“Ah. So I’m not the only arm candy here?” He frees his hand from mine, only to place it on the small of my back.

“Nope.” But you’re the hottest, I privately add. My hormones are dancing the foxtrot even before that hand slides to my waist.

“Alex Engels! So nice to see you.”

The executive’s voice lifts me out of my reverie and reminds me that I’m here to network. I stop and turn. It would be rude not to greet the CFO of a gaming company and his golfing buddy, the venture capitalist.

I put on my Corporate Leader face and greet these men by name. “Arnie! Roger. Great to see you.” Names and faces have always come easily to me. “This is my boyfriend, Eric Bayer.”

It’s funny how the lie just rolls off my tongue.

“Are you in tech, Eric?” the head of SumoChip asks him.

“Not a chance,” he says easily. “I’m a forward for the Brooklyn Bruisers hockey team.”

It’s almost ridiculous how quickly their faces light up. “Great season!” Arnie gushes. “Shame about game seven.”

“Wasn’t it, though?” Eric says with a sigh.

Then the three of them pick apart the hockey playoffs season while I sip my drink and plot out what I want to say to the head of this convention.

“We’re boring Alex with this sports talk,” Roger says eventually.

“I do own a basketball team,” I remind him. “But hockey was never my favorite sport.”

Eric grabs his chest in a mock expression of horror.

“Until now, Honeybunch,” I add, to the amusement of the tech executives.

Eric gives me a wry grin and slips his arm around my waist. “Thin ice, cutie.”

The other men think that’s hilarious. But finally, we’re free of them. “You play the boyfriend role well,” I whisper as I lead him across the space.

“Nothing to it,” he says. “You’d almost think I’d been somebody’s boyfriend before.”

“I’m sure you have been.”

He gives his head a single shake. “Not often. Nobody wants a guy who travels as much as I do. Even if they say they do, they don’t.”