The Trade(57)

This is different.

How do I approach someone without looking desperate and needy for attention?

If only there was dance music, I could twerk up to them with my full ass and give them a show. That’s one way to do it.

One unsophisticated way.

Nerves claw at my stomach, making my drink less than desirable right now. If only Monica was here, she’d be able to help me. She’d be the perfect wing-woman. I walk around the space, sticking close to the bar, trying to scout out the males in the room. There’s someone—

“What are you drinking?”

I quickly turn around to find a very attractive man with black hair slightly combed back with gel, deep brown eyes, so dark I can’t decipher between his pupil and his iris, and a linen shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. He has a lovely smile and is a few inches taller than I am. Perfect candidate.

Thank God, he approached me.

I tack on a smile and say, “Beach cocktail.” I glance at his tumbler and say, “Let me guess”—I make a show of looking him up and down—“you’re drinking a gremlin.”

“What?” He laughs and shakes his head. “Aren’t those green?”

Leaning close, I say, “I really have no idea. It was the first thing that came to my mind though.”

He swirls his drink and says, “Vodka and tonic.”

I snap my finger in disappointment. “That was my second guess. I wavered between the two.”

We’re standing near the bar, but on the other side where my group is so if I look over his shoulder, I can still see my people, just in case I need to squeeze away quickly.

The man with the beautiful eyes and long eyelashes casually leans his elbow on the bar and holds out his other arm while saying, “Nicholas, and you are?”

To be honest, I find walking up to men a hard thing to do, but Nicholas has made it quite easy. Not only did he start the conversation, but he hasn’t looked down at my chest once. That’s impressive.

I take his hand in mine and give it a quick shake. “Natalie.”

He smirks and says, “Nicholas and Natalie, it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

I push my hair behind my ear. “It does, easy to monogram things.”

“Our monogrammed throw pillows would make people jealous.”

“Easily.” I chuckle and take a sip of my drink. “So Nicholas, are you part of the conference that’s been going on?” I ask, just as my eyes shift to the side, falling briefly on Cory who has his eyes trained on me. Carson is still talking, but instead of being involved in the conversation like last time, Cory’s attention is zeroing in on my conversation. Eyes dark, brows narrowed, he looks like he’s about to chuck his beer bottle across the bar.

“Everything okay?” Nicholas asks, getting in my line of sight.

Shit.

Clearing my throat and shaking all Cory thoughts out of my head, I say, “Yes, sorry. For a second, I thought I forgot to turn off my curling iron,” I lie.

He chuckles and says, “Thank God, you didn’t. Isn’t that how Rachel Green burned down the apartment?”

My eyes widen in surprise and I correct him. “It was a straightener.”

“Ah, that’s right.”

“I’m impressed though that you brought up Friends.” He coyly takes a sip of his drink, so I ask, “What brings you to this lovely resort again?”

“Are you paying attention this time?” I smirk and nod. “Good. I’m here with the conference. I’m the owner of the business everyone is buzzing about.”

“And that business would be . . .”

“Ah, you’re not a part of the conference?”

I shake my head. “Nope, just poor vacation timing. Although, I must say, it hasn’t been bad. I think this is the first night where it truly seems packed.”

“Yeah, I think conference attendees are starting to get tired. I don’t blame them though. Talking about software for eight hours straight each day for a week is grueling.”

“Software, huh? Fascinating.”

He pokes me playfully in the side. “Why do I feel like you’re being sarcastic when you say that?”

“Maybe because I am?” I try to give him my best smile and it works, because he laughs and then sits up from the bar.

He nods toward the balcony and says, “Care to join me outside, where it’s less noisy?”

“That would be great,” I say.

He lends out his arm and I take it, feeling like a lady for the first time in a long time. Nicholas seems polished, sophisticated, and successful. Not to mention, he’s handsome and smells like an expensive man. This might have been a very, very good idea after all.

As I pass the bar, I catch Cory’s gaze one more time, his eyes tracking me over his shoulder until we pass them, and even though I shouldn’t feel guilty, not even in the slightest, there’s a tiny sliver deep within my bones that’s making me question if I’m making the right move.

Should I be over by Cory instead, trying to make awkward conversation with him? Talking about The Office, asking him if he’s going to be ready for the season when we return home, if he wants me to find him a new bagel place? Spending yet another night wishing I was the woman Cory wanted . . . if only for a night? Wishing he’d touch me because he couldn’t keep his hands off me? Wishing he’d kiss me like I’ve never been kissed before?