‘I’m not sure which of us you think is your friend, but either way, I’m pretty sure you’re mistaken.’ Conor’s hand brushes my right arm at the same time as Ryan reaches out to stroke my left. Goosebumps rip across my skin and it takes a second to realise what that hot pain searing my lower tummy is – hot, savage longing.
‘Oh, we’re much more than old friends, aren’t we, Sasha?’ Ryan leans close enough for me to inhale his intoxicating masculine scent before turning his attention to the man behind me. ‘What exactly are you two to each other again?’
Despite his close proximity, I can’t see Conor’s face, but from Ryan’s widespread grin I assume enough flashed across it to portray we haven’t been intimate. Not yet, anyway.
‘I thought as much.’
In some wild fantasy, being wedged between the only two men I’ve ever been attracted to might be next-level sexy, but in reality, I can’t bear the heat any longer. Slipping out from between them – one light, dependable and amusing, the other dark, dangerous, and exhilaratingly sexy – I cross the room and open a window. The crisp cold breeze cools my flushed face.
‘Seeing as you’re drinking my wine, the least you can do is get me another.’ I point to the glasses hanging from the ceiling rack above his head. By moving Ryan from Conor’s immediate vicinity, I’m hoping to shatter the tension that’s rippling between them in turbulent ominous waves.
Conor tuts. ‘If you’re playing waiter, you can pour me one, too.’
Seeing the opportunity for some sort of truce I leap on it. ‘Perhaps Ryan can help with the menu tasting, that’ll save you cooking anything else at this time of night, and it’ll save my waistline.’
Ryan mutters, ‘Your waistline looks perfect to me.’
Conor nods in reluctant agreement.
This is quickly shaping up to be one of the most surreal nights of my life. First Conor finally starts showing some initiative with his seductive feeding, then Ryan struts in all alpha wiping up the crumbs. Wait until Megan hears about this.
Ryan shares the burgundy liquid between three glasses, placing one on Conor’s work station. He hands me a fresh glass, brushing his lips over my original one, precisely where my lipstick mark stains it.
‘How’s the writing going?’ That at least should be a safe topic.
‘Surprisingly well. Something about this place inspires me. Or someone.’ The glint is back. So is the grin.
Conor snorts, busying himself with the next appetiser, giant tiger prawns on some sort of wafer-thin red cracker. I watch, impressed, as the minute details in the presentation blend decoratively together.
‘Did you book a band yet?’ Conor turns to me, his bright-blue eyes vivid with enthusiasm. Even with Ryan here trying to overshadow him, he’s still in great humour.
‘No, but I need to. To be honest, I hadn’t even planned on having a Christmas ball this year. Not after last year. It’s all for Chloe. She rarely ever comes home, so I want to make sure it’s the best Christmas ever.’
‘Where is Chloe?’ Ryan asks, like her absence only occurred to him.
‘Dubai,’ Conor and I say in unison.
‘She runs a successful event management company these days, breaking balls by day, and hearts by night.’ I shrug and take a sip of my wine.
‘Ha. She reminds me of Jayden. Well, he’s brokering record deals all day, but they definitely have the heart thing in common.’
‘Chloe has this one-date rule.’ I’m probably oversharing but it’s a relief to be talking about someone other than us.
‘And that is?’ Ryan arches an eyebrow.
‘They only get one date. Ever. No repeats. No matter how well it goes.’ I shrug.
‘And what about you?’ Ryan takes a step towards me, gauging my expression. ‘Do you ever do repeats?’
Despite my best intentions, my gaze falls to his lips. The memories steal the breath straight from my lungs and it’s an effort to remember why I’m supposed to fight this feeling.
‘Try this one.’ Conor saves me from having to answer. He hands me a succulent looking prawn. Dressed with a beetroot trim, it’s almost too pretty to eat.
‘What about Matt’s band? I’m pretty sure they’d love to perform at the ball if you’re stuck.’
‘Thanks, Conor, I might just take you up on that.’ Matt is Conor’s cousin and another gorgeous budding musician. He’s five years younger than Conor and an only child. Conor’s always looked out for him like a younger brother. It would be nice to give him the business. ‘Text me the number and I’ll ring him in the morning.’
It’ll be one more job I can tick from my ever-growing list.
