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Hard to Resist

Page 44

by Olivia Radwell

With Grandma still in Spain and so much happening at the hotel, I turned down the invitation weeks ago. Going alone didn’t feel right, and the Hartwell isn’t nominated for anything anyway. We never are.

“I wasn’t.”

I slide a finger beneath the seal and read the letter. Another hotel has canceled, leaving two empty seats for Saturday night. The organizers want to know if the Hartwell would like them.

I consider it. A night away from the hotel might do me good, and staying home in my pajamas would be a terrible way to spend Saturday. Then I notice where the awards are being held: Voss Central.

I almost set the letter aside, but there’s no reason to think Eric will be there. Voss owns the hotel, but that doesn’t mean he attends every event held in its ballroom. I’ve been going to these awards for fifteen years, and I’ve never seen him at one. He won’t be there this year either.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I tell Mia.

Her smile appears at once. “You’re going?”

“Yes. I just need to make sure Chloe’s free.”

After Mia leaves, I message Grandma with the good news: Voss has changed its plans.

Then I call Chloe and ask her to come to the awards with me. She agrees, and I add our names to the reply card. If I’m going to spend Saturday night in a ballroom full of hotel owners and executives, I want someone beside me who can make me laugh.

Chloe gave me a month to meet someone on my own before she starts meddling, and there should be plenty of single men at the awards. She’ll probably know half of them. Maybe I’ll find someone nice, uncomplicated, and completely unconnected to Voss. A few drinks and one enjoyable night might be exactly what I need to end this nine-month dry spell and get Eric out of my head.

15

RACHEL

By Saturday evening, almost every dress I own is spread across my bed. Shoes cover the floor, and Percy sits in the middle of the mess like an angry store manager. One paw pins down a black dress, and his tail flicks each time Chloe moves a shoe.

I hold another dress against me. “This one.”

“No.”

“You liked it ten minutes ago.”

“This is an important decision.” Chloe reaches across the bed and pulls a blue satin dress from beneath the pile. “Wear this.”

I hold it against me and turn toward the mirror. “It’s a bit…much.”

“Exactly. You said you wanted to meet someone,” Chloe reminds me. “You should look sexy.”

“I said I wanted to meet a man. I didn’t say I wanted to look as if I’d already agreed to go home with him.”

“You won’t.” She studies the dress again. “You’ll look like you might consider it if he asks.”

I laugh and step into the dress. It fits close through my waist and hips, then falls just below my knees. A narrow slit begins above my left knee, staying closed when I stand but showing more of my leg each time I move.

I turn to check the open back. “Alright. You were right.”

“I know.” Chloe steps away and smiles at my reflection.

She checks her own reflection. Her pale gold gown leaves one shoulder bare and falls to the floor, with a high slit that shows most of one leg when she walks. Her hair hangs in soft waves, and small gold earrings catch the bedroom light. She looks ready for a red carpet, not a hotel awards dinner.

I look her over. “Are you trying to find a man too?”

“No. I’m looking for clients.”

“At a hotel awards dinner?”

“Do you know how many rich, single men run hotels?”